Incommunicado

Sometimes something we count on as solid and secure is a facade. My other website, which connects to the public me, has been hosted for the last several years by a service whose website boasts photos of multiple, huge datacenters in impressive buildings in multiple cities. They promise bullet-proof uptime. They sell security and confidence and they delivered their product as promised until last week. Without warning, the lights went out. Promises of return to service by 7:00pm were made day after day. Then yesterday, on their support page, the truth came out. Some of their customers' websites had been farmed out to rented server space. The company providing that space had been acquired by another and drives containing websites were put on a truck (instead of in the promised airplane) and shipped across the country to live in different machines that no one bothered to find out were not compatible with said drives. Oh, and by the way, two of the servers hadn't even been owned by the acquired company but belonged to yet someone else. They were left behind in the move and the drives and data have not been recoverable. So, my website along with about 600 others was simply lost to the ether. Stuff happens. But the company I have been dealing with, the only one I knew existed until yesterday, is trying to slough blame off onto these other guys. It's infuriating! They offered two free months of service for my trouble, for which they got an earful. Yes, I can re-upload my site so I really only lost my log files and a bunch of email along with a weeks' frustration and email isolation. But it goes to show you that things are often not what they appear to be and you really can't count on anything of this world. And the worst part of all this is, it's a metaphor for my own character.

Where is she going?

Alternate title: I Wish I Had Said That

"...such vibrancy, such electricity...
she cracks open her soul a bit and allows you to peer in, and when she walks away, you want to follow."

-re: a famous actress by a friend of hers. Also dead-on true of my wife.

It's Out There

There's a world out there that's bigger than the one most people live in.

-Harley Davidson ad

A Gift

Yesterday, I received a small gift from someone I respect, admire, and love deeply. Just a little bookmark. It is inscribed, "It is never too late to be what you might have been" -George Eliot
It made my day.

Moth

beautiful little moth
so tiny
and so fragile
your simple mind is driven
by microscopic droplets of instinct
the world is so dark
and the flame so enticing
spectacular against the blackness
oh that you would just singe a wing
become enlightened to the truth
and set a straight course
away from the danger
toward safety and nourishment
but your wings are so small
they fly you in a crazy dance
flirting with the flame
this pass, very close
next pass
one touch
you will be consumed
an undetectable wisp of vapor
for a fraction of a second
and you are gone

Proof

You say you want some tangible proof to support my last post?
Okay, here you go:
As of this morning, the odometer on my motorcycle reads 76,946 miles.

City of Angels

Alternate title: Air Force

Warning: this post could blow you away.

You may have read every other word I have written and been tracking with me all the way. But now you may leave shaking your head and thinking I’m truly nuts. Or a would-be novelist. But I assure you, this happened to me. I have only ever shared this with three or four people. I just don’t think most are able to take it in. If you dare, read on and you shall see if you are one who can.

Some years ago I spent some time in a city on the other side of the world. A place few in my home country have ever heard of. It is the childhood home of one of the most evil leaders who ever lived. And it is a very dark town. The evil is palpable – it’s all around like a fog you can almost see. Evil owns this place. It is a stronghold.

I was traveling and working with a well-known Christian leader, known by many from afar as a righteous man, known by me from up-close as the real deal, a man who actually lived what he preached at great personal cost.

I was also working with another man. One who had been involved quite deeply in the occult before becoming a Christian. Several times in the past, this man had quietly made me aware that he could occasionally sense localized spiritual activity and presence. I know this sounds weird, but once in a restaurant in an Asian country, we passed a large idol that was part of the décor. He said, “there’s a demon in that thing.” And something in my much-less attuned soul knew that he was right.

Back to the dark city. Some very strange things happened there. I had some equipment stolen from right under my feet as I worked. There was a lot of confusion, a lot of a sense of someone intruding and trying to steal – like being at Piccadilly Circus in London with pick-pockets pressing in on you from all sides. You can just feel it. And it feels very bad. An awful sensation of violation.

As we left that city, my friend told me of some things he had seen there. He saw thousands of demons with glowing eyes covering the hillside. He had also seen four huge golden angels with swords drawn, standing watch over our leader friend and surrounding him wherever he went. My sensitive friend told me he actually asked one of these beings at its guard post one night why the theft of our equipment had been allowed? Why had these bad things been allowed to happen? The terse answer consisted of five words, “None of you were killed.”

Some days later, I asked my friend with hesitation if he had seen any angels around me. His answer was short and without detail. “You have two white ones.”

I don’t know what you make of this. It strikes me at this point in time that the quantity of two is significant to me: a flight leader and a wingman. I take it that God has intended some purpose for my life that requires the secret service protection of two of these agents. I am thankful for that service and used to say so aloud to them on occasion. I have never heard or seen them myself. And I haven’t thought much about them for years. But I believe they have been on duty. I have been spared from various disasters from time to time and sensed that something had protected me. I don’t understand the mechanics of how God chooses to physically work in our lives and provide protection. But I absolutely know that he does or I would not be sitting here alive to think about it, let alone be doing so in the comfort of a home and family.

So, to my faithful, unseen soldiers, if reading blogs is in the purview of your many abilities, thank you once again. I know you care little or nothing about my gratitude or even my acknowledgement of your existence. Your only concern is the accomplishment of your mission and loyalty to Him who sent you. Nevertheless, thank you. Thank God for providing you to me. I solute you as comrades in arms as we face the fire fight we are about to walk into.


footnote: an unbelievable series of technical glitches delayed the posting of this entry. Something is going on here.

paradox

time to slow down and go fast

Let Go

If you love something, let it go.
If it comes back to you, it's yours.
If it doesn't, it never was.

-author unknown

Cross Hairs

X marks the spot
Cross Hairs
Chi
J e s u s
Be The Center

?

The rain seems to have stopped

Will we start to heal or bleed some more?

Oxymoron

Lines connecting boxes connecting triangles connecting circles
Cut and dried decision points break off in different directions
You cannot flow inside the proverbial box
Therefore, a flow chart isn't
One who would chart
Will not flow

To try is to end up with hands

Holding soggy cardboard

"There is no room inside a box..." -Kings X

I think I can see it. Up there ahead. And a bit above. It's moving and I'm out of sync. Can I reach it?

Messy Garden

Yikes

A tree is down across the path

What to do?

What's That Smell?

This is crazy. This freshly minted blog already feels like an old worn in pair of shoes. I guess it's because I have walked so many miles inside the blogs of others that I knew what it would feel like. It's really very comfortable. My OC is really kicking in. The upside of my roller coaster existence is actually quite pleasant. I enjoy this part of the ride. But I know it is hurtful to those around me. And to myself ultimately. So much is spewing so fast. Things are exploding out of me. Oh no, this was feeling so good. But it's a purge. Does all of this have the odor of vomit? Oh crap. I'm getting it all over everybody within range. I am so sorry.

Welcome Mat

I'm deeper into the garden than I've ever been

It's so much bigger than I ever knew

I like it here

I could get lost in here

I WANT to get lost in here and never leave

I thought I saw a welcome mat a ways back

But every once in a while I feel like a trespasser

And I get a little freaked out when no one is home

Obsessive compulsive? Ah, yeah...

Bright Blue
dark shadow
Bright Blue
dark shadow
is that you?

I thought I finally found you. I'm trying to catch up and keep up. When you slip over the horizon I get scared again. I'm straining to see you.

Color as symbol

Hope

Hope has to be the number one product of the United States of America. People clamor to enter our borders for it. We package it and sell it in soap bottles. Go diamond, yeah! Put a picture of a Mercedes on your refrigerator! The city of Hollywood manufactures and exports trainloads of the stuff and gluts the world with it. We have churches on every corner around here. They may not be as savvy as California, but they try various speils and ply their trade. With this massive gross national product, why is it so difficult to actually obtain a personal supply of this stuff? I don't have very much to spend. Guess I've wasted an awful lot on counterfeits. Let's see, what's left in my pocket? Okay, here you go. I'll take a penny's worth.

Dichotomies

There are two kinds of people: those who divide people into groups and those who don't.

Seriously,

There are two kinds of people: batch processors and continuous processors.

Also,

"flow chart" is an oxymoron.

The above may get unpacked here. Stay tuned...

I get it 

Thank you for moments of beauty amid chaos. 

Never leave your wingman 

Ways of a Wingman

Since about the time of World War I, military doctrine regarding the use of fighter aircraft has included the concept of the wingman. Airplanes were not designed as implements of war. Even their initial use by the military was for reconnaissance only. They were observation platforms serving to help leaders assess a battlefield. But it didn’t take long to discover the weaponry potential, mount up guns, and begin to shoot at each other using them. In a similar way, it didn’t take human beings long to discover the weaponry potential of their own thoughts and tongues and to begin to shoot at each other with those also. (And in very unliterary fashion, I tip my hand.)

It also didn’t take long for the military to realize that the back of an airplane was vulnerable. The guns pointed the other way. The pilot faced the other way and it was difficult to keep track of what was going on behind. And the tail surfaces were small yet essential to the control of the ship. Blast a big hole in the side of the fuselage or even a wing and as long as the underlying structure doesn’t snap, the pilot can probably still limp home. But take out the small rudder or the elevator in the tail, and the pilot looses control and heads for the ground in moments. The name of the game in aerial combat was, and is to this day, to get on the tail of your opponent. Shoot him where he is vulnerable and where he is least able to defend against you

Back to doctrine. The dawn patrol of the lone fighter pilot in WWI, out looking to spar with a Hun, soon gave way to the multi-element “flight.” The most common, and to this day default mode for most missions involving fighters is the flight of two. There is a leader and a wingman. This may start with rank in the lead and the junior officer on the wing, but that is initial formality. The lead and the wing may trade places numerous times during the mission, or from one mission to the next. The leader takes the responsibility of navigation. The wingman’s only navigation responsibility is to stay glued to the position immediately behind and offset to the side of the leader. The wingman’s responsibility is to “watch the back” of the leader. He is to defend the vulnerable tail of the leader as the leader goes about the business of navigating or attacking what is in front of him. The only time the wingman splits off from the leader is to engage an enemy attacking the leader, and he strives to return to his slot as soon as possible. The mantra of the fighter pilot is, “never leave your wingman.”

Flying in tight formation has inherent dangers. Precision control of an aircraft is a tricky three-dimensional dance. Doing this with a partner whose vital wing is but feet away from your own sometimes ends in a mid-air collision. Friendly fire without bullets. But the tight formation appears to the outside world as a single entity. The strength, offensive and defensive, is a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Not to mention the mystical beauty of two powerful machines, each capable of easily destroying the other, intentionally or unintentionally, moving through space in perfect synchronization. It’s a wonder to behold and a crowd pleasing staple of every airshow.

Another valuable function of the wingman is curious in this day of high technology. Even with the mind boggling advance of sensing and imaging devices aboard modern combat aircraft, nothing can replace human eyeballs. When an airplane is damaged, the pilot in the cockpit must assess the damage and its ramifications based on what his instruments say or what someone external to his vehicle can observe. Ground observation even while a pilot does a low fly-by of the tower, for example, has serious limitations for perceiving detail. The wingman, on the other hand, can sidle up close and scrutinize every inch of the leader’s machine from every angle. “Confirm, your right landing gear has not fully deployed. It will definitely collapse on landing.” In this case, the leader can prepare himself, will know how to adjust his landing technique to minimize the damage of the impending wreck, and has a much higher chance of survival.

The multi-element flight has redundancy. Occasionally, something malfunctions. A plane may have to abort a mission. Or perhaps in the heat of battle, a weapon fails. When there is a duplicate asset at hand, the redundant hardware can be brought to bear. Two instead of one provides this. A group of three or four increases the likelihood of mission accomplishment exponentially.

A more subtle strength of redundancy is back on the ground. A squadron will have duplicates of one type of aircraft. This allows the maintenance staff the advantage of being able to employ their expertise about one airplane for the good of the fleet. And all parts are interchangeable between machines. Sometimes one machine is sacrificed temporarily or permanently to provide parts for the others. The efficiency gain compared to each pilot using a different type of machine is obvious.

Much has been expressed in countless books, movies, and elsewhere regarding the bond of brothers in arms. Comradeship born of experiencing and surviving combat side by side has a strength and depth of value approached by little else in human experience. A manly embrace, tears, grasping shoulders and gazing into the depths of another’s eyes and seeing into his soul, and long moments of silence embodying bottomless depths of understanding, can only hint at the connection. Whether in victory or defeat, this kind of friendship is precious. It transcends the carnage of the fight. Limbs can be lost, lives broken beyond repair, loss can be overwhelming. But this kind of a friend will still be worth all of that. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man would lay down his life for his friend.” We need more wingmen. God help me to be one.

Dangerously flying through the night, the wind all around me. 

Dangerous Activity

The navy has a philosophy regarding any specific dangerous activity. An individual should either avoid it, or do it a lot. Landing a multi-million dollar jet aircraft on a moving ship with great risk to the hardware, to the multi-million dollar education invested in the mind and body of the pilot, and to all the other people on the ship is not something they want many people to do. It is actually a ridiculous undertaking and were it not for the great value to the defense of our country and the projection of strength, would be utter folly. It allows for a necessary power that could not exist otherwise. I’m coming to realize that there are people in this world who are called to dangerous relationships. They are chosen by God, gifted by Him, and developed under His care to do things that most human beings should absolutely avoid. Trying to land a plane on a ship for most of the pilots in the world, let alone the average person, would guarantee a bloody disaster. But for those few very special chosen ones, they must do this a lot. They must continually hone and nurture the skill so it doesn’t get rusty. They must practice day in and day out during the sunny days and calm seas. For occasionally, late at night with the rain slashing and the wind howling, the deck pitching violently, that pilot will have to get that aircraft down safely. Even the most experienced will approach in a terrified sweat. All will be at risk. Death and destruction will be ready to pounce. All the skill and experience will be called on and will be strained to the breaking. And indeed, the breaking may happen. Thank God for those people who bear the burden of the defense our country. Thank God for those others who bear the burden of defending souls from the storms of evil poised to attack.

Diamond in Dirt

I have a pair of glasses
Sometimes I forget where I left them
And have to search around in the blurriness to find them again
When I have them on
I can see you
You are a Diamond
The most precious jewel I have ever seen
And you are sitting in a world of dirt
I want a setting of finest gold for you
You deserve no less
I am sorry you are a naked stone
I am sorry for the dirt touching you

Ice Cracking

Spring is finally here
The winter past was brutal
On my daily runs through it
Ice sickle daggers ran through me
Chilling to the marrow
Sharp shards coursing through the slush within my veins
But the light of a longer day is penetrating
And slowly, the heat from that light radiates

The frozen river looks peaceful
A winter wonderland
It might even make a Currier and Ives scene to be envied by those who pass by
Or at least a pleasant postcard image
Nothing moves
There is a solidness
You can walk on it and feel secure, though cold
Deep below, pressed hard between the bottom of the ice and the bed of the river
A small amount of liquid moves
The fish cling to life in this narrow zone
It’s no way for even a fish to live

The day is sunny, but still very cold
And still very still
BANG!
CRACK!
Look around! What is THAT?
Nothing moves
What a violent sound accompanied by stillness
The sound and the scene don’t go together
CRACK!
Oh my!

The glacier looked massive and solid
Completely unassailable
Unchanged for countless centuries
But a massive piece of the edge, big as a mountain
Suddenly calves off and falls in slow motion toward the sea below
We watch from what seemed like a safe distance
But the impact on the calm sea is enormous
The traumatized water flies in a wall high into the air
Drops spray and fall all around
The tsunami wave heads out in all directions from the impact zone
Our boat braces for the secondary impact
Will we be able to ride it out?
Our world is rocking
A wet wall washes over our decks
Banging everything against everything else
Cargo we had tied down tightly washes overboard
We may capsize
We could be pushed to the bottom

CRACK! BANG!
A chunk of the glacier around my heart breaks and falls off
BOOM!
The same sun does it’s work and a piece explodes off of yours

The lovely scene isn’t so pretty anymore
The floes in the river bang into each other with violence
The jagged slabs collide and pile up all over each other
making the surface look like the aftermath of war
But movement has finally started
The river begins to flow once again
It will be imperceptible for some time
But summer will surely come
The jagged surface will transform
Into a far more beautiful spectacle
The smooth, azure surface of the calm deep of the river
Will flow in unified grace
And satisfy the parched soil of the banks
Nourishing the tender sprouts of new growth

Hang on, my love
Hang on, my friend
Hang on, myself
None can fight this giant wave
Hold your breath
Until it passes over us
Keep the faith
On the backside of the wave
There will be calmness again
If we survive
And the radiance will continue to warm our bones

8 Pond

The 8 Pond

Thurs., March 24, 2005

My wife had an encounter with God on a road not far from here. A spray painted 8 on the edge of the pavement adjacent to a dam containing a large pond was central to this experience. She had been praying by the side of this pond and when leaving, spied the 8 on the road. I won’t go into the significance of the symbol here. It is deep. Suffice to say, this was a touchstone for her and, indeed, for a few others close to her. Yesterday while she was at work, I found the 8 myself. Actually, I had taken her to this pond years ago. I had found it soon after we had moved into the area. We went there to sit together several times. That had not happened in years. But then the day before yesterday finally happened. And then yesterday. And the world is a different place.

We have to sell our house and move. The story is long, but suffice to say we must downsize. We have been looking for many counties around, trying to find a suitable spot to live. Nothing seems even close to being right. Recently, we have discovered that, because of my wife’s two part-time jobs, we really need to live close to the area where we already are. But the chances of finding something we can afford around here are slim. And it seems that every time one of us sees something that looks like it might work, the other has red flags about it for one reason or another. I have been asking God to point us to the right place. To make it clear where we are to be. Several times in the past I have been granted specific signs that verified a choice. I have been wanting one in this situation.

Yesterday, a crazy idea entered my mind. Maybe I could buy the pond for her. We need a new place to live. I’ve wanted to find some property where we could do exactly as we wanted. (Which would be a less-is-more proposition, but that's another story.) What more significant place could there possibly be around here? It would be amazing to live on this spot.

On my third visit to the 8 Pond in two days, I reconnoitered the western shore. I walked the western property line and on into the land behind. I checked out the high ground. Earlier in the day I had checked the county records online and saw the property boundaries, the assessed value, etc. The pond sits on the western third of a 25 acre plot. Mmmm. Maybe the owner would be interested in getting some cash in hand while still retaining most of the land. Perhaps a 5 acre triangle on the western shore of the pond could be our new home. It will take a miracle. One like the Doe River Gorge guys had bestowed on them when they bought a $4.5 million property for $400,000.00. Yes, 10 cents on the dollar I think we might be able to swing.

I had arrived about a half hour before the sun completely set. As darkness fell, I was tromping around on the the ideal spot to put a house. I asked, “Lord, could this be the place you have prepared for us? Could this very spot be the place for a home my wander-weary wife could truly call her own?” I dropped to my knees in the pine needles. “Lord, if this is what you have for us, I claim it. I don’t presume, I don’t even ask for it. But if you want this for us, I will take it from You.” I opened my eyes, looked up, and just above the top of the treeline over on the eastern shore of the pond, a full moon was rising. The brightest, fullest moon I have seen in years. The trees were illuminated and the light was all around me. I was startled. At this point in time, the moon is also dripping with symbolism in our lives. Could this be my answer already? I don’t know. But if a house stands on that spot sometime in the future, I will surely know then that I have seen God’s sign with my own eyes.

to the gut

A mini journal

Mon., March 21, 2005
Guile. Vitriol. Accusation.

Tues., March 22, 2005
The music stopped

Wed., March 23
Visionation Day!
The scales fell off my eyes.
Oops, forgot the Prozac.
Manic explosion!

What A Find

I met my wife last night. I have awoken this morning to the most amazing day of my life. I am being pounded by feelings from all directions. I am seeing meanings in symbols that are brilliantly flashing to light all around me. So much is now making sense. And I am awestruck by the beauty of this person whose outward appearance is stunning at first and enchanting soon after. But what is on the outside is but a faint glimmer of the beauty that wells up from within. I am infatuated. But more than that I am swimming around in the goodness, the wisdom, and the sparkling wonderfulness of this female whom God has somehow, beyond my wildest dreams, decided to give to me. I am humbled and stunned because I am so unworthy of such a gift. If I had made something so precious, I would have found someone much more deserving and able to cherish and nurture it. But she is mine and I weep with joy and at the same time for my weakness.

The woman I refer to is not the one I am going to marry. She is the one I married 24 years ago. Most of the time since, I have been chasing her around the house, trying to get her attention. Trying to get her to give to me. To consume her on my need for a feel-good fix. That is, I chased her when I wasn’t out trying to accomplish things, pursue personal hobbies, or have meaningful connections with other people. All of that distraction and my failure to truly hear and understand her made most of my chasing annoying. I rarely caught her. And when I did, she soon slipped through my fingers and was once again out of reach behind the wall I had unwittingly been building, brick by brick, for years.

What I really desperately wanted and needed, but didn’t know it, was a state of being called intimacy. This is a secret and deeply sacred connection of souls that is more intoxicating and addictive than the most powerful narcotic. If our culture were to discover this, it would be the biggest sensation of all time in the media, movies, music, and advertising. It would be on every billboard and in every TV show. We would not be able to get through a day without being inundated by it. The government would no doubt make it a controlled substance because its effects would be so powerful.

Part and parcel with intimacy is the concept of wholeness. Wholeness is a related state of being where all the parts of a person are seeing the light of day and meshing together smoothly. Wholeness will allow you to be. To just BE. To not have to fill each moment striving to accomplish, to entertain one’s self, or to consume food, drink, drug, image, sound, flesh, or whatever else brings pleasure by the moment. No, instead of renting peace for your soul, you own it. You can sit still and just be alive. No anxiety over what is not being checked off a to-do list. No worry about how much money is in the bank. No concern whatever over whether I’m attractive enough, clever enough, funny enough, good enough. I can just sit and not move a muscle. Not try to untangle the knots from the ropes of my life. Not even really think a thought. Just BE in a moment and know that that particular moment has been spent well and has been completely worthwhile.

Something I have noticed about wholeness is how startlingly integrating it is. The things we tend to compartmentalize because of their personal nature and shame about the sinfulness of our true inner selves all homogenize into the whole. My wife, in whom there is absolutely no guile, has surprised herself when looking back on her writing in that she would describe things using sexual language which were not at all sexual. And she was not thinking sexually about them at all. It’s just that with her, the intertwining of things as ephemeral as ideas is integrated into a continuum which includes her sexuality. It is all part of the whole and flows in the same current of being.

Above I speculated that if intimacy was ever truly discovered by our society, it would be everywhere. But what is everywhere? Sex is everywhere. But sex without intimacy is really not sexual. That sounds ridiculous, but makes sense if terms are given their full meaning. Sex without intimacy is a momentary physical high from a shot of dopamine. One might as well stick a needle in an arm and shoot up. The only difference is that a gland in your body does the shooting for you. Every moment leading up to orgasm and those immediately after are emotionally dry and one-dimensional. Speaking of one-dimensional, masturbating while looking at an image on a flat piece of paper or computer screen is the quintessential embodiment of what I am talking about. For Christians and morally enlightened people, there is also a permeating stain of guilt that gets all over everything. There is no depth of meaning. It’s like trying to take a bath in a puddle. It’s a cheap imitation of truly feeling good. Wholeness, on the other hand, is a state of feeling good all the time. Not perpetual orgasm, but peace. Sexual experience changes from a consumer item to be devoured like a hamburger to a component of the overall flow of intimacy. It becomes a crowning jewel to a relationship that has tremendous value and gives deep satisfaction in all the other moments that have nothing to do with sex. Indeed, if for some reason, such as an unthinkable accident, a person is paralyzed and unable to be sexual, it really wouldn’t matter. It would be a tragic loss, but would have no effect on intimacy, the true nature of the relationship. As Steve Martin’s character in “the jerk” said, “Well that takes the pressure off!”

Well, I had to tell you about my new wife. She will be home from work soon. I need to be about finding out what’s under the next rock I find in the garden of her soul.

Grace and Beauty

Grace and beauty
Line and form
Subtlety of curve
And suppleness of filling
The fineness of your hair
The radiance of your smile
Catching the scent of you passing by

Awash in the warmth of you in the room
The wisdom deep inside enlightens my world
Your wordless smile looks up at me
As I hold my treasure
in my arms

Home without you
Is a sideways place
Too cold, too quiet
Too dead, too hungry
The air drains away
I hold my breath ‘til you return
You walk in and joy comes again

Pulled back
to the surface
I inhale your presence again
Sublime and precious
And live another day

The Future

From up here
I can see the past
I cannot see the future
Sometimes this seems a curse
But I think most often it's a blessing.
The future seems scary, But maybe my fears
won't come to pass. If I knew they were going to,
it would no longer be scary. It would be terror
beyond measure. I'll take scary.
Right now I'm really nervous.
Couldn't sleep all night. Tried, then gave up.
Reading, thinking, praying, writing.
The dark night of the soul is also the long night of the soul.
What will happen on the morn? I don't know.
I think
I pray
I plan
I strive to do the right thing.
To figure out what that right thing is.
To assess my motives and check my heart.
I so want to do it in the right frame of mind and heart.
How can I know about this? How do I control my emotions?
My words? My anger? My agony?
Why is
this all so
complex?
I'm so
tired.
I wish
I could
Sleep
Under
this
tree

The Black Dog

(A portal into the dark night of the soul. Enter at your own risk.)

The black dog is on me again
Sinking his teeth into me
Why is it hard to move?
Oh, those chains on the ankles again
The tunnel vision
I’d be scared if this wasn’t so familiar
So I should be more scared than ever
One of these times may be the last
How have I survived this long?
Who am I anyway?
What value to anyone, really?
Once I thought I had something to offer
But it’s all used up
Or maybe was never there
Whatever, my hands are empty now
And hope is inversely proportional to age
The sparkle still comes to the eyes
The voice still lights up
But it’s when someone else is in the room
Or on the other end of the line
The secret email account slaps me in the face
The buffoon is outside in the dark and doesn’t know it
How charmingly comical
I so enjoy bringing mirth to others
I hope I’m an interesting specimen
Squished here on the microscope slide
“Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there”
I try, but my soul is impaled on it
I can’t be rid of it
So I squirm
But the more I squirm, the more it hurts
So just accept the status quo
Try to push the needle from the annoyance end of the scale
To the tolerated long-time acquaintance end of the scale
Don’t expect the gauge to read anything else
Belching diesels have different gauges than jet engines have
Go through the motions
Be the live-in handy man
Fix the broken junk of our lives
Find joy in a tool that whorks
Wen it does
Stir things up and they just get worse
Response is always opposite what I seek
And in the end it always comes back to me anyway
I’m always at fault
And I’m always sorry I brought it up
So don’t bring it up
Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness
Where are my matches?
Oh, here! Good!
strike
strike
strike
strike
strike
soggy mess
can’t see much
everything is blurry
sure is cold
damn it all

Many Years Ago

Coercivity uncoerced
Poles of the same stripe repulsing
How odd
Northern boy, Southern girl
Worlds apart
Cultures clash
Iron strikes iron
Sparks fly
Deep mineral mystery
Essence of attraction
Draws from afar
Once moving the attraction grows
Exponential force soon cannot be denied
There is no turning back
There is no turning away
Poles collide with impact
That jars the worlds of both
Old and new symbols
On the left and right
Holding tight now with both hands
Connection made
Kinetic energy equalized
Stability satisfied
Magnetism!

Only One

Too many things that I never use
Too many channels bringing bad news
Too much information being simulcast
How much of all this is going to last?

Only one life and it soon will pass
Is there something that will always last?
Only one way through all ages past
Only one

Too far to travel, too late to start
Too much distraction choking my heart
Too much to do, not enough time
The sun will go down, then what will shine?

There’s only one who deserves all I am
Only one chance the wide gulf to span
Nothing is new under the sun
Only one

Prodigal

I’m off to find my way
I’m headed out the door
I’m gonna get my piece
I know there’s so much more
The good life waits for me.
What am I waiting for?
Don’t want to hang around at home
I want a life that is my own

Just flash a roll of cash
the girls will come around
Get some of that feel-good stuff
just lay your money down
But when the dollar's gone
will anyone be found?
When your life is at the end
Then how will you buy a friend?

At the start it’s so much fun to roam
But sooner or later you’ll end up alone
Then you’ll just want to find your way back home
To find your way back home

The world will always call to you
"come run off and play"
Responsibility waits for another day
But in the end it’s always you who has to pay
Don’t bother saving for a rainy day
They’ll step on you to get their way

Drifting out in the world
it’s such a big bad place
Everybody wants something
they’re always in your face
What was it that my father said as he waved good-bye?
A tear was falling from his eye
He said. ‘I’ll love you ‘till the day I die.”

Cast Your Dreams

Cast your dreams into the sea of God’s grace
They may sink to the bottom, they may float in place
They may sail away to parts unknown
Some of them may arrive back home
Cast your dreams into the sea of God’s grace

There are things I want to do and see
Things I want to know and be
Some for the Kingdom, some just for me
Some for the sake of my family
I can only have it all, if I give it all away
I can only truly live, if I die to self today

There are things we want to have and give
There is love we want to share and live
Will you be willing to open your hands
And pour out your hopes far away from land
If your desire is His, if you give Him every part
He can bring into your life the desires of you heart

Eccl. 11:1 Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.

Bittersweet

When we are young and our life is at the start
We tend to seek perfection in matters of the heart
We want the happy ever after, the fun, the joy, the sweet
But often plans are compromised and goals left incomplete
The hard times come, sometimes bitter defeat
The good we find is often bittersweet

You fall in love and marry, expecting such a treat
You think that you can live on love and never have to eat
But good and bad and happy-sad can blend to tones of grey
The joy, the pain, the loss, the gain, the hard work and the play
To live together is no easy feat
And loving her can be bittersweet

If all I want is sweet and never seize the day complete
Most of life will pass me by
There is so much to gain from the joy that's mixed with pain
So much of life is bittersweet
Give me a taste for bittersweet

A little baby girl saw the light begin to shine
But just one struggling hour was all she knew of time
Her name was all that we could give her, we had to let her go
Ten perfect little fingers, ten perfect little toes
Good-bye to little hands and little feet
A fleeting, life-long taste of bittersweet

A pretty, green-eyed lady, but she is not your wife
You know that you could love her in another life
And something makes you think that she might feel the way you do
But at home is one who is your own who needs you to be true
You pray for strength your promises to keep
And knowing her becomes bittersweet

If all I want is sweet and never seize the day complete
Most of life will pass me by
There is so much to gain from the joy that's mixed with pain
So much of life is bittersweet
Give me a taste for bittersweet

A wise one walked through most of life with no one by his side
But then he came upon a love from which he could not hide
He knew she had a hurt that they both knew would not heal
But gladly he embraced the terms required of the deal
The pain to come made present joy complete
He drained the cup and savored bittersweet

His life was in the autumn season, his colors blazing bright
And suddenly God took him in the middle of the night
The solid hardwood fell before the winter limbs were bare
So long before we thought he would he ran up heaven's stair
But downward flowed a supernatural calm
And loosing him became a healing balm
Smoldering embers burst aflame with heat
A devastating gain of bittersweet

So much of life is bittersweet

Broken Feathers

Broken feathers fall from the sky
We’re looking up and wondering why
Our best and our brightest with courage to spare
Consider the cost and then take to the air
Knowing today could hold a terrible blow
The unforgiving earth is always waiting below
Experience is blank if your answer’s always “no”

A box of hope and balsa wood wings
To let it soar free with no strings
With weeks of care and a critical eye
And days of waiting for slow glue to dry
Delicate wings with gossamer glow
The wind can be a fickle friend you know
But to see it fly you have to let it go

Form and function, an artful machine
With lines and symmetry, balanced and clean
A joy to behold when the work is all through
But outside beckons a huge sky of blue
Wheels lift from the ground on bright wings that gleam
Cleverly outwitting gravity’s scheme
The heart is pounding as reality meets dream

Terminal velocity
Choose your life philosophy
Pull on your boots or just sit in a chair
The thrill of the rush and the depths of despair
Stay on the ground and you may never cry
But God be with those who determine to try
We’d rather die than to miss our chance to fly


(A song written the morning the shuttle Columbia broke up over the western United States. Stunned, I picked up my guitar for a bit of comfort as I stared at the TV. A haunting melody slipped out through my fingers onto the strings. These words came soon after.)

Catching Up

This blog is new, but I'm not new to writing. Getting my thoughts out through my fingers has been an important part of my processing my stuff for a long time. A lot of it is lost to the ether. But some I still have tucked in files here and there. I plan to post some of this just because I want to. Don't ask me why. I really don't have an answer. But I offer this explanation here because if you are looking for a time continuum, you won't see one here for a while. Eventually, I expect, my writing will start flowing along with real time and then there will be a discernible progression. But for now, I'm afraid confusion will reign. Sorry. Don't try to figure out the order of things. At least for a while. As if you care. As if anybody is even reading this.

Takeoff

It takes me a while to catch up. Blogging has become a big part of my world, but I have avoided having one of my own like I avoided getting a palm pilot for years. It just seemed it was going to add complication to my life. I have been an avid commenter elsewhere. There are a few blogs that I drop in on daily. Something different and profound has been taking place through these connections. So, here I go. The blogosphere will not be denied. It took me about a week to become fully dependent on the palm when I finally got one. I am an excessive-compulsive personality type. This blog will probably become another addiction. A good one, I hope.

The thing that finally pulled me over the edge is a wrestling with the concept of anonymity. In all other dealing on the internet, I have never wanted to hide behind it. My identity is out there and you can look me up and find me if you want. I stand for what I stand for and what I say I will stand behind. Unfortunately, in the subcultures in which I find I must live, I would get into trouble in one way or another if I expressed some of what I want to say sometimes. For example: I don't cuss. Cussing is completely innappropriate in my world and I never verbalized a four-letter word in my life until well into adulthood, and then only in the deepest depths of despair with a precious few in my innermost world. But they are in my head on occassion, as much as I'm embarrassed to admit. I've always believed that a man's control of his tongue speaks volumes about the control he has over all other areas of his life. But a swear word may slip out through my fingers, onto this keyboard, and into the open on occasion. That's the kind of thing I don't want to have to worry about. I've decided to make my peace with anonymity. I wish it didn't have to be. But I am looking forward to getting out what is deep inside without fear. If somehow you figure out my true identity, I guess that's all right. I am doing this in pursuit of truth. But I reserve the right to hedge on truth in this one instance: if you ask me in my real life if this is my blog, I will probably deny it.

I enjoy flying alone. What is here is for me. You don't have to read any of it. But if you'd like to come along for the ride, welcome aboard.