This is what happens when people walk away from me.
From the shortly possessed, constantly exchanged trenches of World War I with myriads of dead and dying boys lying between to the atomic fallout of World War II Japan with shadows permanently scarred on the ground being the only evidence that a human being once stood there.
From the gulag work camps of 1930's Soviet Union to the concentration camps of 1940's Germany.
From the napalm scorched rainforests of Vietnam to the killing fields of Cambodia.
From the seemingly endless flatlands of Somalia to the dry, dusty deserts of the Sudan soaked in blood.
From the government induced persecution of Chairman Mao's regime to government guided missiles striking Afghan villages.
This is what happens when my compassion and love leave a place.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The surface of the brackish, brown water is smooth as turquoise sea glass
Convincingly covering up the ecosystem that lies beneath-betrayed only by an occasional shimmering, silver mullet jumping in an attempt to escape its pursuer and prolong its life another day.
Salt is filling my nostrils and covering my skin like leprosy.
The gnarled mangrove trees are effectively blocking out any vestige of civilization or society and hiding stories beneath their roots of a simpler, slower time.
A time when one lived wisely by gathering enough food for the day from the toil of his own hands and did not have the perpetual worry of credit card and car payments hanging overhead as a result of greed, indulgence and uncontrolled, unchecked desires.
Convincingly covering up the ecosystem that lies beneath-betrayed only by an occasional shimmering, silver mullet jumping in an attempt to escape its pursuer and prolong its life another day.
Salt is filling my nostrils and covering my skin like leprosy.
The gnarled mangrove trees are effectively blocking out any vestige of civilization or society and hiding stories beneath their roots of a simpler, slower time.
A time when one lived wisely by gathering enough food for the day from the toil of his own hands and did not have the perpetual worry of credit card and car payments hanging overhead as a result of greed, indulgence and uncontrolled, unchecked desires.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Forgiven
Occasionally seeking to do what is right
Continually being waylaid by temptation
Constantly being covered by grace.
Continually being waylaid by temptation
Constantly being covered by grace.
To Live Is To Fly
Won't say I love you babe.
Won't say I need you babe.
But I'm going to get you babe
and I will not do you wrong.
Living's mostly wasting time
and I waste my share of mine
but it never feels too good
so let's not take too long.
You're as soft as glass and I'm a gentle man
we got the sky to talk about
and the world to lie upon.
Days up and down they come
like rain on a conga drum
forget most, remember some
but don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
nothing is too much to bear
where you been is good and gone
all you keep's the getting there.
To live is to fly low and high
so shake the dust off of your wings
and the sleep out of your eyes.
It's goodbye to all my friends.
It's time to go again.
Think of all the poetry
and the pickin' down the line.
I'll miss the system here
the bottom's low and the treble's clear
but it don't pay to think too much
on the things you leave behind.
I may be gone but I won't be long
I'll be bringing back the melody
and the rhythm that I find.
We all got holes to fill
and them holes are all that's real
some fall on you like a storm
sometimes you dig your own.
But choice is yours to make
time is yours to take
some dive into the sea
some toil upon the stone.
To live is to fly low and high
so shake the dust off of your wings
the sleep out of your eyes.
-Townes Van Zandt
Won't say I need you babe.
But I'm going to get you babe
and I will not do you wrong.
Living's mostly wasting time
and I waste my share of mine
but it never feels too good
so let's not take too long.
You're as soft as glass and I'm a gentle man
we got the sky to talk about
and the world to lie upon.
Days up and down they come
like rain on a conga drum
forget most, remember some
but don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
nothing is too much to bear
where you been is good and gone
all you keep's the getting there.
To live is to fly low and high
so shake the dust off of your wings
and the sleep out of your eyes.
It's goodbye to all my friends.
It's time to go again.
Think of all the poetry
and the pickin' down the line.
I'll miss the system here
the bottom's low and the treble's clear
but it don't pay to think too much
on the things you leave behind.
I may be gone but I won't be long
I'll be bringing back the melody
and the rhythm that I find.
We all got holes to fill
and them holes are all that's real
some fall on you like a storm
sometimes you dig your own.
But choice is yours to make
time is yours to take
some dive into the sea
some toil upon the stone.
To live is to fly low and high
so shake the dust off of your wings
the sleep out of your eyes.
-Townes Van Zandt
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Grandpa
His hands are wrinkled,
fingers bent and pointing in ten different directions:
evidence of a lifetime of toil
from 6th grade until his 80's.
There wasn't anything in the world that could stop him from accomplishing what was necessary, whether that meant making sure the cows were milked or painting one of the hundreds of homes he was asked to paint.
He was given a choice, he'd tell you.
Way back when the majority of the pages to be written about his life were blank and held in the right hand instead of complete and held in the left.
The decision he had to make was to continue to go to school or to help his father work on the family farm.
His adolescent mind originally came to the conclusion that it would be best to work on the farm, what with all the girls chasing him around and bothering him at school.
It only took about a week, however, before questions as to the wisdom of his choice began to creep into his wondering mind.
He informed his dad that he had changed his mind and that he wanted to go back to school.
Upon hearing this, his father told him,
"No, son. You've made your decision and now you've got to stick with it."
With that one statement the path of his life was irrevocably set. Any aspirations he might have had were funneled into work on the farm and the eventual raising of his six children.
As a result of that one decision made so many years ago, he has lived his entire life within a 10 mile radius of the house in which he was born.
He was forced to develop a strong personality and iron self will with the line of work that he was in.
When he set his mind to a task, there wasn't a thing that he couldn't conquer.
As with many men of his generation becoming more elderly, the realization and idea that they are now increasingly unable to adequately care for themselves is a bitter pill to swallow.
So it is with my grandfather.
The swollen, strong hands that show the markings of manual labor are now unable to possess items which are rightfully his.
Hands that have been betrayed by a mind that has not aged as well.
fingers bent and pointing in ten different directions:
evidence of a lifetime of toil
from 6th grade until his 80's.
There wasn't anything in the world that could stop him from accomplishing what was necessary, whether that meant making sure the cows were milked or painting one of the hundreds of homes he was asked to paint.
He was given a choice, he'd tell you.
Way back when the majority of the pages to be written about his life were blank and held in the right hand instead of complete and held in the left.
The decision he had to make was to continue to go to school or to help his father work on the family farm.
His adolescent mind originally came to the conclusion that it would be best to work on the farm, what with all the girls chasing him around and bothering him at school.
It only took about a week, however, before questions as to the wisdom of his choice began to creep into his wondering mind.
He informed his dad that he had changed his mind and that he wanted to go back to school.
Upon hearing this, his father told him,
"No, son. You've made your decision and now you've got to stick with it."
With that one statement the path of his life was irrevocably set. Any aspirations he might have had were funneled into work on the farm and the eventual raising of his six children.
As a result of that one decision made so many years ago, he has lived his entire life within a 10 mile radius of the house in which he was born.
He was forced to develop a strong personality and iron self will with the line of work that he was in.
When he set his mind to a task, there wasn't a thing that he couldn't conquer.
As with many men of his generation becoming more elderly, the realization and idea that they are now increasingly unable to adequately care for themselves is a bitter pill to swallow.
So it is with my grandfather.
The swollen, strong hands that show the markings of manual labor are now unable to possess items which are rightfully his.
Hands that have been betrayed by a mind that has not aged as well.
Friday, November 28, 2008
This night, after crawling into bed, I picked up my trusty copy of My Utmost For His Highest for the first time in nearly a week. I was planning on reading a bit and then catching some shut eye in preparation of a Saturday spent inside grading papers and writing lesson plans. However, after reading the excerpt for this 28th day of November I felt compelled to do something I haven't done in several months which is to blog. I was reassured of God's grace after this passage and therefore I am posting it so others may benefit as well. Anyway, here are the words of Oswald Chambers as only he can express.
The Bounty of the Destitute
"The Gospel of the grace of God awakens an intense longing in human souls and an equally intense resentment, because the revelation which it brings is not palatable. There is a certain pride in man that will give and give, but to come and accept is another thing. I will give myself in consecration, I will do anything, but do not humiliate me to the level of the most hell-deserving sinner and tell me that all I have to do is to accept the gift of salvation through Jesus Christ.
We have to realize that we cannot earn or win anything from God; we must either receive it as a gift or do without it. The greatest blessing spiritually is the knowledge that we are destitute; until we get there Our Lord is powerless. He can do nothing for us if we think we are sufficient of ourselves; we have to enter into His Kingdom through the door of destitution. As long as we are rich, possessed of anything in the way of pride or independence, God cannot do anything for us. It is only when we get hungry spiritually that we receive the Holy Spirit. The gift of the essential nature of God is made effectual in us by the Holy Spirit; He imparts to us the quickening life of Jesus, which puts "the beyond" within, and immediately "the beyond" has come within, it rises up to "the above," and we are lifted into the domain where Jesus lives."
The Bounty of the Destitute
"The Gospel of the grace of God awakens an intense longing in human souls and an equally intense resentment, because the revelation which it brings is not palatable. There is a certain pride in man that will give and give, but to come and accept is another thing. I will give myself in consecration, I will do anything, but do not humiliate me to the level of the most hell-deserving sinner and tell me that all I have to do is to accept the gift of salvation through Jesus Christ.
We have to realize that we cannot earn or win anything from God; we must either receive it as a gift or do without it. The greatest blessing spiritually is the knowledge that we are destitute; until we get there Our Lord is powerless. He can do nothing for us if we think we are sufficient of ourselves; we have to enter into His Kingdom through the door of destitution. As long as we are rich, possessed of anything in the way of pride or independence, God cannot do anything for us. It is only when we get hungry spiritually that we receive the Holy Spirit. The gift of the essential nature of God is made effectual in us by the Holy Spirit; He imparts to us the quickening life of Jesus, which puts "the beyond" within, and immediately "the beyond" has come within, it rises up to "the above," and we are lifted into the domain where Jesus lives."
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Commonalities of Man
This past weekend I had the good fortune of being blessed with a 3 day weekend.
On Saturday, I took advantage of the wonderful warm weather and strung my hammock up at Paradise, right next to the Flagler Museum. I was minding my own business while reading Call of the Wild and simply enjoying the day.
After about half an hour an elderly couple strolled up to eat lunch on one of the benches facing downtown West Palm Beach and the Intracoastal. We exchanged pleasantries in passing. The man commented on how it appeared that I had a nice rig set up while his wife stated that I appeared to be quite comfortable. I replied in the affirmative to both of their statements. Indeed, it is a nice rig and I was, in fact, relaxed nearly to the point of nodding off. We shot the breeze a bit longer before they had their lunch at which point I continued reading.
While lying there in the hammock, I came to the realization that both I and the elderly man likely were jealous of each other's respective position. On one hand, the elderly man sees his bygone youth and freedom; something that he will never be able to capture again in his lifetime. On the other hand, I see a couple who still enjoys being together after who knows how many years. They have a lifetime full of memories and are hopefully to the point where they are completely one with each other.
This situation also reminded me of the first verse of Old Man, a great Neil Young song from the album Harvest.
Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like
you were.
Old man, look at my life-twenty four and
there's so much more.
Live alone in a paradise that makes me think
of two.
On Saturday, I took advantage of the wonderful warm weather and strung my hammock up at Paradise, right next to the Flagler Museum. I was minding my own business while reading Call of the Wild and simply enjoying the day.
After about half an hour an elderly couple strolled up to eat lunch on one of the benches facing downtown West Palm Beach and the Intracoastal. We exchanged pleasantries in passing. The man commented on how it appeared that I had a nice rig set up while his wife stated that I appeared to be quite comfortable. I replied in the affirmative to both of their statements. Indeed, it is a nice rig and I was, in fact, relaxed nearly to the point of nodding off. We shot the breeze a bit longer before they had their lunch at which point I continued reading.
While lying there in the hammock, I came to the realization that both I and the elderly man likely were jealous of each other's respective position. On one hand, the elderly man sees his bygone youth and freedom; something that he will never be able to capture again in his lifetime. On the other hand, I see a couple who still enjoys being together after who knows how many years. They have a lifetime full of memories and are hopefully to the point where they are completely one with each other.
This situation also reminded me of the first verse of Old Man, a great Neil Young song from the album Harvest.
Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like
you were.
Old man, look at my life-twenty four and
there's so much more.
Live alone in a paradise that makes me think
of two.
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