Homeless

I want to be normal, really I do. I've been struggling with comparison, looking at myself & not being quite satisfied with the collection of flesh & blood & thoughts & emotions & personality & experiences & random collection of stuff that makes up 'me'... i've been comparing myself too much with others.. Mostly it's that stuff of being Adam in the garden, feeling my nakedness & shame & that I walk from relationship & love & stand there going, "I was naked & afraid & so I'm hiding myself"... It's not hiding 'cause I'm so ashamed of who I am, it's hiding 'cause I'm afraid I won't be loved for being me...

& yeah, so I've been sort of trying to relax with this. For the most part it's been semi, psuedo-working... OK, so it works once in a while. Every so often, I'm cool & collected & feeling pretty happy & together. Other moments I'm comparing myself to others & either trying to be normal or extraordinary, or extraordinarily normal, or normally extraordinary, or some combination of impressiveness without weirdness that will make me look like a sane individual... someone who the world around could be friends with & sort of think is not off his rocker...

& part of this effort has been not writing. It hasn't been that hard. I've been busy, haven't had much to say, in general & specifically not for public consumption... But yeah, it's meant a hiatus from writing & posting things on the blog. 'Specially 'cause people read the blog & worry....

So yeah, again, overall there's been some really great moments over the last week or so where I've felt pretty comfortable being me. Even comfortable around people... Even went through a really low day feeling totally useless & like an oxygen thief (stealing air other people could be using) &, oh, managed to counsel myself off the ledge quite effectively & then ended up in a place where I felt 'useful' not in the sense that I did something grand, but just that I was me & God maybe borrowed my tongue for a while or maybe it was just that being me was/is actually a really good thing.

Anyhow. today at work, I had a good day. I was up super early (in a 7AM - super early for me anyhow). Managed to keep my spirits high even amongst all the BS & stupidity & managed to be sort of useful & productive & feel like I wasn't totally stealing my paycheck & managed to surf past tiredness & boredom to actually keep a flow of activity through the day....

...I felt normal... well, kind of...

I started the day ripping a bunch of music onto the computer to listen to. Started the day with Eminem's "Loose yourself". It's one of Em's tunes that I actually really like & listening to it today I felt again the desperation of

"You better lose yourself in the music, the moment You own it, you better never let it go You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo " - Eminem

and this song carried me through the majority of the morning. On the outside, I'm quiet, mild mannered engineer wandering the halls or sitting at my cube. Inside, I'm screaming the lyrics... feeling like this wild eyed, half crazed rapper with hungry kids, late on the rent, knowing that his families future depends on getting that one lyric right, seizing that one moment of being lost in the moment... feeling the desperation of life burning a hole through my chest, feeling the pressure of that one moment, that one shot, feeling the sand slipping through the hourglass knowing that there's only one life that I'm given & wanting to seize each moment & drink it deep...

This, by the way, makes it hard to not throw something at management & run into the sunlight to escape the 9-5..

...but I behaved &, after lunch settled back into being a good little worker bee without too much interruption. At the end of the day, I'm listening to Matisyahu's "Youth" & rediscovering the album after Rebekah & Nicoleta played me a track from it.... at the end of my work day, I end up listening to "Jerusalem" over & over again....

Jerusalem, if I forget you,
fire not gonna come from me tongue.
Jerusalem, if I forget you,
let my right hand forget what it's supposed to do.

In the ancient days, we will return with no delay
Picking up the bounty and the spoils on our way
We've been traveling from state to state
And them don't understand what they say
3,000 years with no place to be
And they want me to give up my milk and honey
Don't you see, it's not about the land or the sea
Not the country but the dwelling of his majesty

Rebuild the temple and the crown of glory
Years gone by, about sixty
Burn in the oven in this century
And the gas tried to choke, but it couldn't choke me
I will not lie down, I will not fall asleep
They come overseas, yes they're trying to be free
Erase the demons out of our memory
Change your name and your identity
Afraid of the truth and our dark history
Why is everybody always chasing we
Cut off the roots of your family tree
Don't you know that's not the way to be

[chorus]

Caught up in these ways, and the worlds gone craze
Don't you know it's just a phase
Case of the Simon says
If I forget the truth then my words won't penetrate
Babylon burning in the place, can't see through the haze
Chop down all of them dirty ways,
That's the price that you pay for selling lies to the youth
No way, not ok, oh no way, not ok, hey
Aint no one gonna break my stride
Aint no one gonna pull me down
Oh no, I got to keep on moving
Stay alive

[chorus]

And again, in the middle of my happy, productive day, my heart is captured again. I can't read my note's 'cause there are tears in my eyes. I start aching for a home I haven't seen yet, Jerusalem old & new whisper to me & call me as one of her sons to remember her stones & the dust of the city... my heart starts to pray for the peace of Jerusalem, 3000 years of struggle & conflict weighing on me. Isaac, Ishmael, their battle still raging through the centuries, promises of blessing for each & relationship with their true Father, the God of Abraham....

...and yeah, maybe this is a good thing that in a moment I'm in this zone of aching, groaning for kingdom, for peace, for reconciliation, for the plans of God & the kingdom of God to be made manifest... but I feel like a freak. I thought about writing something on facebook - updating my status to "kirk is praying for Jerusalem", or "Kirk is thinking about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict" or "Kirk is homesick for the old/new Jerusalem" & I stopped myself 'cause I'm thinking people are going to come with the white jackets if I'm not careful about my self expression in public forums...

...and so my 'normal' work day ends as it began - calm on the outside, aching, craving, groaning, screaming on the inside... and somehow locked in prayer that comes in bursts of petition, and long stretches of soul-ache...

Finally home, I settle back into normality. Supper, some TV, start mowing the lawn. An hour & a half later, the jungle is tamed & the lawn is now at levels acceptable for the neighborhood beautification group, the nazis that worry about how tall your grass is & how many dandilions you have. I don't really know my neighbors, to my shame, but I feel fear of their impressions of my messed up little lawn...

Exhausted, I rest in the tub for a while, then flip on the computer to surf the web for a bit & decide to thrown on Tiffany's latest album. yes, Tiffany, the chick singer from the 80's. She's still producing music, to her credit. Albums are maybe not the most noteworthy, but they don't suck. They're pretty good actually. Honest truth is that I had a crush on her when I was 15 (she was 16) & so I buy her albums as they come out, partly to follow her career, partly supporting her career as someone from my generation still pursing her dreams, partly as penance or something for silly teenage crushes.

I'm half listening to the album while doing other stuff & worrying about how to fit things into my week, when I'm interrupted by this song:

Streets of Gold - by Tommy Wright

He stands on a street with a jar at his feet and his arms stretched t'ward the sky
God's word in his grip, there's a song on his lips I would not be denied
Winos walking past see the change in his glass and the devil takes control
They commit their sin for a half pint of gin to help fight off the cold
They laugh & they joke, tugged his old tattered coat saying preacher pray for me
Satan made us his slaves, can three whores be saved? Will Jesus set us free?

He prays Father please forgive them, oh they know not what they do
If there's no more room in heaven for these forgotten few
Lord, give this beggar's mansion to these lost wandering souls
and when I get to heaven, I'll sleep on the streets of gold

He lays down his head on the mission's last bed as they turn out the front porch light
There's a knock at the door, is there room for one more? I'm sorry not tonight
But he gives up his place for the sidewalk on 8th where the angels take his soul

to a mansion so fair built for many to share there by those streets of gold
He prays Father please forgive them for they know not what they do
If there's no more room in heaven for these forgotten few
Lord, give this beggar's mansion to these lost wandering souls
and when I get to heaven, I'll sleep on the streets of gold

And I'm broken open. I'm choking on sobs as I think about being homeless in heaven, about Paul going, "I'd rather choose hell if it would mean one soul of Israel makes it into glory", about the heart of sacrifice & how it's my heart, too... and i question my home in the suburbs & my normal, safe life & I question how much I give & yet just pray for those who are outside & who don't have & i know that it's kind of OK, too... that God's got this heart of mine & there's plenty of room for sacrifice to come, plenty of spaces to lose myself in the moment... I think of Zephaniah 3:12 that I read long ago & seemed to misinterpret (maybe) that there would be 'poor' people in heaven & that somehow this shows the true beauty of God's people that we are made to minister & we are never left in this place where we don't have opportunity to show love, to give, to serve, to care for those who are in need... Reading it now, I maybe don't see the context of 'heaven' at first glance, but I do see why Jesus tells us that the poor will be always with us (Deut 15:11, Matt 26:11, Mark 14:7, John 12:8). We all need. We all have things to give. The best parts of humanity are when we give with a liberal heart...

...and so yeah, again, in the 'safety' of my suburban house, I'm caught with this desperation, this call to love & action. What do I do about it? Well tonight, I write this stuff & I sleep. Is this good or bad? It just is... tomorrow the sands start flowing again for another 24 hours & we see what gets fit into the moment... as I live the tension between grabbing for each instance & trying to have the faith that God has numbered my days & will give me as many as I need to accomplish his puposes.....

But yeah, part of me is getting more tempted to say @*&# normal.... maybe I should just settle in to being weird.

Sword thoughts

"I give hope to Men," "I keep none for myself,"
- Aragorn in "Return of the King"

Random trivia off of IMDB:
"The last words exchanged by Elrond and Aragorn are "I give hope to Men," "I keep none for myself," are taken from Appendix A, in which the Elvish translation of those lines (Onen i-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim) are the final words of Aragorn's mother, Gilraen. Estel, meaning hope, was also the name given to Aragorn before his true heritage is revealed to him."

Ended up watching part of the 'Return of the King' tonight with new friends Rebekah & Nicoleta. Funny/odd stuff: felt a strong urge to make it downstairs to watch with them before the movie passed the part where Aragorn receives Anduril, the reforged Narsil (the sword I own is a replica of Narsil)..... so I feel tugged to go down & I'm sitting down in the chair as Elrond is presenting the reforged sword to Aragorn....

the other odd bit is that the quote above was rattling around in my brain earlier in the week & I couldn't remember where it was from.... now I know & so it makes me wonder of what awakenings, what significance this may hold in my life...

another odd bit is that I actually had the sword in the trunk of the car today. packed it in the car to bring to the community house with the possibility of bringing it out in some symbolic gesture of fighting the spiritual oppression that they seem to have been facing over the last number of weeks. The sword didn't make it out of the car, but the fact that it was there was interesting & made me wonder if maybe it's God fighting for my soul more than me trying to get Him to battle for others....

Have been thinking of Ezekiel's dry bone vision lately.... & seeing Aragorn walk through the halls of the dead & raise a vast army from the dry bones spoke volumes to me tonight...

...again, don't know what this means, but it felt very significant.... so thought I'd note it here.

Flush....(gurgle, gurgle)...what else do you do with crap?

OK, so this is not really for you (the unseen audience), this is for me.

My head has felt really full today & I’m worried again (as a typical hypochondriac) that I’m losing my mind or going to suffer some mental breakdown. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, or that my body is finally starting to catch up from lack of sleep (been pushing too hard & burning the candle at both ends in Calgary & now that I’m at my folks for the long weekend, I’m catching up on some rest)… but my head has been going a million miles an hour this weekend & it actually kind of hurts. I’ve been trying to read & my eyes won’t focus well on the page as the tyranny of thoughts just keeps flooding my head….. I’ve tried painting, but that’s not cutting it. Part of it is that I’ve got a bunch of ‘projects’ on the go (about 10 G.I. Joe figures) & I sort of need to fix their eyes to be able to progress the figures & I’m trying to do it too quickly & just making a royal mess & the eyes are looking worse & worse & I’m just frustrated with that, too….

…so yeah, that’s not helping relieve the pressure behind my eyes… & I’m randomly snapping at my family. I want to be heard, but want to be left alone… I sort of have nothing to say unless it’s a whole great litany of long rambling thoughts about what I’m thinking through & I sort of feel like no one needs to or wants to take the time to hear all of my crap & so yeah, that’s why I’m turning to this, the written word, to try to put it all down & at least then it feels like I’m sort of ‘heard’, by the page at least, ultimately by the divine as He listens to me try to still my thoughts… (He’s been hearing the cacophony of my thoughts lately & the random whine of prayer asking Him to make it stop, or to fight for people, or to help make sense of things….)

So yeah, random thing to start: I long to be heard. Most of us do, most of us don’t feel heard, don’t feel like people really listen & understand… I don’t or at least not so much. I am likely heard & understood far more than I think, but this is an area of my life that I sort of guard…. I have these ways of testing the waters with people to see how much they want to listen. The more attentive they are, the more the guard comes down… but I find I don’t share so much with a lot of people ‘cause well, they’re either not interested or don’t have the time to listen – all of which is fine… but it just means that people don’t hear my stories so much unless they want to sit down & listen to the longwinded rambles… I have a pretty select group of people that I feel take the time to hear me & yeah, it’s maybe too bad for them ‘cause then I feel like I talk too much & spill out too much info….

… but I haven’t had a chance to unload in a while… & so that’s maybe part of my issues….

So what’s bothering me? A chunk of it is community house/urban monastery ([um]) stuff. The [um] is working through defining purpose, trying to come to a ‘rule of life’ that guides this new monasticism. This has also brought up a lot of other issues amongst the house asking for things like ‘greater commitment’ & ‘being intentional’. Some of it has sounded good, some of it has sounded like putting chains on ourselves; trying to give ourselves rules to work by, which just feels more death like to me… other friends talk of a ‘rhythm of life’ & it’s amazing how one word can make such a difference. Rule of life speaks to me of rigidity, structure, order - it’s been described to me as a framework to help things grow, but it feels like a set of rules that removes our thinking – we do what the ‘rule’ says & follow the directives or the ‘life-police’ will come & hunt you down for your lack of commitment to the rule. It just feels like it robs the free choice & I already scheme of how to break & bend the rules before we’ve even decided on what the ‘rule’ is… ‘Rhythm of life’ on the other hand, sounds so freeing, it’s something I can dance to… sure it involves an order, a framework, a structure, but it’s more fluid, open, able to change as we/I change & to grow with us. Mostly it speaks to me of bringing a regularity to life (e.g. it’s a Tuesday, therefore I should be here/doing this) that is set, but flexible, able to move as the wind of the spirit blows & says, throw away you’re carefully crafted plans, the Lover brings the unexpected & calls you to come leaping & skipping in the hills with Him…..

… but a lot of the [um] stuff has been conflict. Some people are not happy. Others are intensely happy, but their voices appear to be overwhelmed by the unhappy ones… though perhaps this is good & gracious as we love those who are not doing so well… it’s been 8 people living together & there is conflict & pain & hurt… Some people sound pretty hopeless about the whole thing & like living in the house has brought dearth (famine, desolation) into their lives… I think everyone there sees both good & bad & some maybe have more good or more bad, hard to say….

But I’ve been looking this as a community I care about & my problem solving side has come out trying to figure out how to fix things. I sort of tried to mediate one of the ‘doom & gloom’ meetings & it was an abject failure on my part. I made the mistake of trying to mediate to make people happy. It failed. I failed… It failed partially ‘cause I don’t think people want to be happy in some ways, but more importantly it/I failed ‘cause I completely missed the point of the problem. It’s not about the stuff being done or coming to some compromise, it’s about, well, in some ways it’s about hurt feelings which go deeper than I can solve, & more importantly, it’s about God’s calling, dreams, hopes, etc. that are part of the house.

& yeah, I’ve sort of been indirectly told (which may be just a misinterpretation, but it’s the interpretation that I’m pulling out of things) that I’m not in the house. I don’t understand, so I should just let those in the house sort of house stuff. Likely good advice, though it still makes me ache. I’ve pulled away from the house in the past for various reasons. I just haven’t been as present as I originally thought I would/should be… Again, I had my reasons. & I feel like I’ve failed people in the house & haven’t loved or been there enough. On the flip side, it’s not like there was that much calling me or trying to get me to hang out, so yeah, it’s maybe all even, or maybe my presence wasn’t as needed or missed or whatever… but yeah, now that I’ve decided to try to be more present, I feel less needed/wanted ‘cause I’m an outsider to what goes on. I feel forgotten in a lot of ways, again, which is fine in some senses… but yeah, it’s just a tad alienating…..

…& so there’s the frustrations of powerlessness. I can’t help, maybe shouldn’t try… or maybe I should, but I don’t know how. I can listen, but all that is is me absorbing the venom of all the painful feelings & thoughts ‘cause I’m an outsider who can buffer some of this – listen to the venting so people can ‘deal with’ things without actually confronting people. Maybe this makes things better, maybe it just exacerbates the problem…

But ultimately I’m sort of back to being on the fringes, for better or worse. I’m not so happy about it, especially after seeing a bunch of e-mails talking about next phases of working this stuff through, but I guess I need to learn to step back & let people figure stuff out on their own. It’s not like I’m much of a help anyhow, I can’t even figure out my own life….

…and that’s been the other struggle, maybe the deeper one… I’m back to wondering what I’m doing with me… After the night of botched mediation I wished that people would just share their passions & dreams & then I’d help facilitate putting that together into a composite picture that embraced all of the dreams. This is the crazy stuff I think, but that’s part of the mix of being pastor & artist & storyteller – it’s trying to see how stuff fits together, looking at the pieces God’s put in place & go, ah, here’s the picture God’s trying to paint…. But yeah, thinking about this made me wonder what my passions were.. & for this I sort of have no answers.

As a pastoral/shepherd type person, part of my life & joy is lived in watching others grow. Want to see me near giddy? This happens in the places & moments where the people I love somehow ‘get it’ – where they gain some new understanding about themselves or God or their place in life, where they end up doing what they love, when there’s this moment where they come alive… See somehow that stuff makes it all worthwhile for me. I’ve had people speak words over me about me being a ‘bridge’ & I get this imagery of laying my body out across this chasm & people walking across on my worn out corpse to reach the higher places that they are destined to walk in… In some ways a good picture, some ways kind of depressing… It’s like a teacher who spends long hours preparing lessons & sits there most days thinking their lives mean nothing & then bumping into a former student who, years later, somehow credits that teacher with some of their success… it’s not a fun calling, but it’s just part of it. I live to serve in some ways, I live to try to make the world better for others & this brings me, well, it brings a lot of pain for the most part ‘cause the need is so great & I’m pretty small & it’s pretty rare between all the pain you endure & help others shoulder & the moments of where you see that your labour is not in vain are pretty few & far between, but in a funny sense, those few, rare moments of where you see someone step into the light of who they really are & you see them blaze with the brilliance of their creation, & see the supernova clarity of that smile that awakens as they realize the wonder of their lives, the deep, rich pleasure that God takes in them… well, these moments kind of wash away years of drudgery & kind of make you forget all the crap you endured to see these friends reach this point…

…it’s like the birthing process (from what I hear), that seeing the little one sort of makes the pain of labour become a more distant memory (again this is just what I hear – not sure how true it is)…..

…but at the end of the process, what am I left with in my life after the above? Well, I get a bunch of people who I’ve loved & been hairy-legged cheerleader for & lots of times I’m forgotten by them & I really didn’t do much to ‘help’… I was sort of there, God used me however He does & used a whole lot of people & worked in these people’s own hearts & brought them from darkness to life & there’s really very little I can claim as ‘mine’ or as ‘my legacy’ other than that I was maybe faithful to the work once in a while & maybe didn’t screw up too much &was more or less obedient when I needed to be…. And ultimately I just join with everyone else laying crowns down & saying, “worthy is the lamb who was slain to receive all honour & power & glory & praise”. At my very best, I’m an unprofitable servant, or a son who does what he sees his Father do….

& so my passion stuff, the things that makes me come alive are either the external stuff of helping others, which seems a bit more reactive &, at present, seems to be on an ‘as needed’ basis when I get brought into someone’s life in the crisis & am there for a bit & then they move on & I’m back to waiting for the next one. This makes me maybe too serious & not a lot of fun ‘cause I’m just looking for the next crisis, the next battle to step into…

…the other passion is intimacy – something I hunger for, but seem to never quite reach (which may be normal, as I’m learning). Both with God & people I hunger to listen to understand to know. God & people fascinate me & I live to understand hearts & the confusing mixture of what makes us us & what makes God who He is…

I also like to create & this is a necessity in my life….

Trying to sum this disjointing thinking up: Again, I gain joy from a) the sense of feeling like I’ve ‘made a difference’, 2) a sense of closeness/intimacy with the divine/with people, 3) being able to be challenged and/or to explore creative outlets… Is this good or bad? Fleshly or spiritual? Love or just self-love? I don’t know… I don’t know…. Is this noble or just selfish… maybe it’s all a load of crap & it’s just me looking externally to find a sense of self worth or to feel loved… maybe all of the above…

This is where the confusion comes in… A lot of things I’d trade just to latch onto one person to spend a lot of time with. I’m tired of saying goodbyes. I am afraid that I am no good whatsoever at relationship. The closest friends I have are still not seen that much. I feel psuedo-lonely sometimes – not a full blown loneliness, but it’s close… I would like to be married, or at least dating.. this all scares me ‘cause I don’t know really what those words mean & sort of expect to be not so good at either…. I’m hoping to find someone who will be patient enough to want to walk through my mistakes with me… someone who will take the time to listen to the stories I tell & sift through the crap to (hopefully) find a good & true heart buried under there… I hope that God makes my heart good, or true, or puts something beautiful there in…. I think there is, I suspect there is, but I worry some days that the dust has covered in & it’s now a little tarnished… or maybe wasn’t ever that noble & good to begin with….

…I’d like to think I’ve learned at least a little of how to love… it’s not perfect, but it’s kind of there… & I guess, like the community house, what you see depends on whether you focus on the bad or the good …. Lately I’ve been hearing the bad ‘voices’ (not real voices, thankfully) that sort of cast doubt on who I am… I haven’t fought that hard against them lately… the true me will be shown in the end. If I’m a man of low character, well, then I guess I should learn that sooner rather than later & can try to work on it. If I’m a man of good character & have a heart full of love, well, that’ll burn the dust away eventually anyhow…..

I’ve met some new friends, two ‘wild geese’ from Ontario who have helped turn my world sideways. These two women come into life here in Calgary & bring with them passion & prayer, laughter & scandal…. Mostly they bring true hearts, full of life & full of dreams & this belief that God is leading them & God will hear their prayers & God will move in their lives & the lives of those around them… Listening to them I hear my own heart from a number of years ago… In talking with them, the cynical part says “ah, they’ll grow out of that”, a statement which pisses off, well, pretty much all the rest of me & the warrior part comes out with this cry of intercession asking that God would make sure they never lose this passion, this crazy belief in who their God is… part of me wants to find some way to stage miracles for them – all painted backdrops & smoke & mirrors – to make sure their hope never dies…. Part of this is that if their hope fades, then the cynic is proved right & I really don’t want that… I’ve learned to be gentle with the cynic in me… really the dreamer & cynic in me are one… the dreamer is just the cynic on a good day where he believes. The cynic is the dreamer on a bad day where the dreams have been yet again disappointed…..

Ultimately these women need nothing from me. Their God (my God) will make His own miracles & handle His own PR, thank you very much… He’ll guard their faith (& mine)….but yeah, listening to them awakens part of me that has gone dormant…. I’ve backed away from ministry ‘cause it was my addiction. I gained a sense of worth from helping others & thought this is what made my life ‘valuable’…. I’m slowly learning that I am valued & loved period just because I’m me… but yet I’ve still been out of ‘ministry’ – not sure what that word means anymore & being afraid of picking up the needle again…

…and so the questions have been around what do I ‘do’ with my life. Do I find a cause, pour my being into it & hope it’s the ‘right’ cause? Do I wander around hoping that God will intervene & put me in touch with the people who ‘need help’ (if that’s a valid term)? Do I sit at home with my hobbies & g.i. joes & paint & try to feel happy about growing a personal life (which feels so empty in many ways ‘cause as much as I have learned to like being around me & just doing my things, well, it’s just me & it’s kind of lonely & empty without people (or at least someone) to share that with… At it’s very best, it’s like standing at Inish Mor alone hearing the thunder of waves & the beauty of this stark, stony green Irish island & having no one to share the joy of the moment with…..

So it seems that by just doing, I’ll expend my life & find no joy. By just being, I’ll enrich my life & find great joy, but none to share it with… & yes, life is about breathing in & breathing out, taking in life & then giving it out… So both the ‘doing’ & ‘being’ must find a rhythm in my life… but I guess I’m unsettled that maybe I’m not really finding either… or not the right balance… or maybe everything’s good cept that I feel alone in it…

…and I have a sermon to put together – trying to reveal the heart of Jesus through the foil of a scandalous woman… there are moments where the message feels brilliant & does Jesus justice in painting a picture of who He is. Other moments it feels like the biggest load of crap & trite sayings & a complete waste of peoples time…. How do you put into a 20-30 minute diatribe the wonder of who Jesus is when I barely feel like I’ve encountered Him myself….

… haunted by last night’s dreams of seeing gal friends in bikinis & wanting to stare & not wanting to stare – the mixture of being attracted to someone (both in a wholesome admiring beauty sense & in the unwholesome lustful sense) & wanting to stare & feeling awkward staring ‘cause they’re friends how are more than just a pretty face… the pull of lust as a coping mechanism has been tugging at me for the last week or so. Giving in in one way or another might bring some release from the noise in my brain – or at least numb it for a few minutes… but yeah, it’s been sort of nice this past week where thoughts of well, beauty, joy, good things, just this sense of feeling alive again, has sort of overwhelmed some of the coping mechanisms & makes me think I don’t really want to just cope anymore… I want to live…..

I don’t know what that means – this idea of really living – but I’ve been reminded of what it tastes like & I just don’t want to go back…. I was telling a friend about the Grand Inquisitor story in the Brother’s Karamazov & how at the end, after the Grand Inquisitor finishes his long tirade telling Jesus how He’s messing up the deal that the clergy have going, that Jesus kisses the Inquisitor on the lips &, shocked, the Inquisitor tells Jesus to ‘get out & never come back’… & then the parable ends about how the glow of that kiss haunts the inquisitor for the rest of his days….

I sort of feel like that, like God has brought this ‘kiss’ of life (figuratively speaking – no smooching for Kirkie lately) into my life & I’m standing at this crossroads of either changing things to risk & to live or that this kiss is going to haunt me for the rest of my days…. I’m sure this isn’t my last chance to turn things around, but I’m tired of the same things happening again & again in my life…. I just don’t know what to change or what to leave the same…..

OK, enough venting for tonight… has helped some…

Quote

"To make life worth living a man or woman has to have a great love or a great cause... "

- Robert E. Howard's character in the movie "Whole Wide World"

Poetry to pass along

I really liked this one:

Taken from the book "Good Poems for Hard Times" collected by Garrison Keillor

"At the Arraignment" by Debra Spencer

The courtroom walls are bare and the prisoner wears
a plastic bracelet, like in a hospital. Jesus stands beside him.
The bailiff hands the prisoner a clipboard and he puts his
thumbprint on the sheet of white paper. The judge asks,

What is your monthly income? A hundred dollars.
How do you support yourself? As a carpenter, odd jobs.
Where are you living? My friend's garage.
What sort of vehicle do you drive? I take the bus.
How do you plead? Not guilty. The judge sets bail
and a date for the prisoner's trial, calls for the interpreter
so he may speak to the next prisoners.
In a good month I eat, the third one tells him.
In a bad month I break the law.

The judge sighs. The prisoners
are led back to jail with a clink of chains.
Jesus goes with them. More prisoners
are brought before the judge.

Jesus returns and leans against the wall near us,
gazing around the courtroom. The interpreter reads a book.
The bailiff, weighed down by his gun, stands
with arms folded, alert and watchful.
We are only spectators, careful to speak
in low voices. We are so many. If we make a sound,
the bailiff turns toward us, looking stern.

The judge sets bail and dates for other trials,
bringing his gavel down like a little axe.
Jesus turns to us. If you won't help them, he says
then do this for me. Dress in silks and jewels,
and then go naked. Be stoic, and then be prodigal.
Lead exemplary lives, then go down into prison
and be bound in chains. Which of us has never broken a law?
I died for you -- a desperate extravagance, even for me.
If you can't be merciful, at least be bold.

The judge gets up to leave.

The stern bailiff cries, All rise.

Poetry

Slow to wake once again today... the lack of sleep from just staying up later for no good reason has caught up with me... Have been fighting a bad headache most of the day... maybe it's from being too hot (making the mental note that spring is here & there is no need to wear a T-shirt under my dress shirt for warmth any more). Maybe from not hydrating enough.. maybe from change in air pressure, maybe from having too much hair & shaking my head to try to flip it off my brow (though it's not quite long enough for that), or maybe just from being tired.

managed to zombie through work today. Nothing pressing, nothing too exciting. Did some work & went home. Tried napping in my car over lunch & then returning to eat leftover fettucini alfredo & foccacia bread (both cooked yesterday for supper with a friend) at my desk. Had a nap after work, too. The mix of dreams sneaking in & leaving me restless as I (mostly) slept...

Awoke to a quiet house at 7 something PM, checked e-mail & facebook with not too much for new info from friends. Felt lonely in the middle of this, but again, parts of it was feeling generally grotty from the headache.

The headache just wouldn't leave today. After Nap II, ate some leftover stir-fry (chicken, veggies, cashews & a lovely orange-ginger sauce from safeway (V&H brand I think)) & watched an episode of Gilmore Girls. Garnered a few laughs from that... thought about proposals & marriage & kisses, which didn't necessarily help the loneliness....

Was hoping to relax tonight. To paint G.I. Joes & maybe do laundry. The headache sort of got in the way of my motivation, so decided to take the better part of valour & sink deep into a warm bath.... While in the tub fiddled with the assembly of G.I. joe parts into complete figures, trying to figure out the characters of the last couple of possible creations... thought about reading more in the adventures of the Green Lantern Corps, but settled in on reading some out of "Good Poems for Hard Times", a collection of poems gathered by Garrison Keillor that was recommended to me by two wise friends whose voices I deeply respect (one who owned the book, the other reading it for the first time)....

... last Tuesday, I had time to read the introduction to the book, along with Azar Nafizi's essay in the book "My sister guard your veil, My brother guard your eyes". Both passages both shook & comforted me. I've been meaning to write about it, but haven't sat down to scribble it all out yet. Both passages talked about the power of the written word & how many revolutions, & how many internal heart revolutions, are inspired by the written word. This has spoken to me deeply. It's funny how that in all my scheming of trying to figure out how to make a difference in the world, that I neglect my gift of writing. I wonder if it is a universal thing that we despise our own gifts because they are part of our nature - they are not 'easy', for truly most of our gifts cost us dearly, but they just 'are'.... I write because, well, that's what I do. It's in my nature, and so I don't treat it as something special - in the same way that I'm prone to not seeing myself as something special. I'm just me... Other people are amazing & breathtaking.. I'm just me. Maybe it's that I've lived with myself for too long & see all the mundane & forget the glory....

.... but this idea has been haunting me over the week. Especially in places like Sunday where I spent most of church in relative states of grieving. Weeping for the four characters from the Requiem movie, praying for sick friends & watching them to try to be there to catch them if they fell... in the middle of the frustrations, the 'heart sickness' if you will of hope deferred, of this sense of powerlessness of feeling crippled to help & make a difference in the world around me & the people next to me, there is still a voice that speaks of words to be written....

...though at the same time I keep hearing the words of Isaiah 40 quoted to me. In that passage, the Voice calls Isaiah to cry, to yell, to speak & Isaiah, or the voice in the wilderness, or Jesus oro someone, replies:

"What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field: the grass withers, the flower fades: because the spirit of the LORD bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withers, the flower fades: but the word of our God shall stand for ever."

Again & again, I think of 'what should I write', this is the words that I hear in my head. I have no great ideas of what to spill onto the page (other than the range of drivel & profundities that gets dropped into the blog).... & this quote doesn't help fill the gap or give any good story ideas or essay topics, or so I think. All it says is that we are fragile, we fade, we live in this moment of incredible beauty & then it's gone... all that is eternal is God, His words, His voice that speaks always....

...and there is an aspect of where this was felt in the poetry tonight... they are poems in the section called "Kindness to snails" & they are primarily poems of the incredibly mundane things - just life stuff. Lighting fires, starting cars, washing babies, cold mornings, being nice to a wayward snail... but in the power of words, all become touched with so much beauty. The artist's eye seems the moment, turns the lens of the literary camera ever so slightly to catch a different angle, a difference glint of light & in an instant the mundane whispers of glory. In a moment the flowers & grass become clothed more brilliantly than solomon in all his glory... and the most normal of things becomes extraordinary & leaves the reader breathless... in gratitude for the gift of another moment of life & in awe of being able to feel a fraction of what is being spoken....

In the middle of the words, while lounging in the tub, the headache faded, fog lifted.... yesterday at church we talked a bit about the speed of life & not leaving time for our souls to catch up... Somewhere in these moments of poetry, the soul finds home & rest.... and the loneliness fades as there is some connection between writer & reader, voice & listener.....

So I end my day, heart fuller than when I started. Head more clear. Tummy contented after being treated to chocolate ganache & strawberries. My skin still warm from the waters of the tub... there is such a beauty in the written word & I'm thankful that I have the gift to see that & be a part of it. Thankful to participate in the journey of 'the voice'... to speak & be spoken to, to know & to be unravelled in the process of being known...

Dipping in Jordan

Catching up on some writing:

I've been dragged into joining the Facebook 'movement'. Haven't taken the time to figure it out, but, as a good thing, it puts me in touch again with some old friends who I miss deeply. (haven't e-mailed these friends so far or enough, but that's a whole 'nother story).

Thursday at work, I'm checking facebook briefly & see a friend who has been battling sickness comment that they believe they may have encountered a miracle.

At first my heart leaps. Miracles are what I & many others have been praying for for this friend. I search, I look for details on her facebook, then other people's walls, no mention of what this miracle is.....

...and then the questions seep in. I think well, how would this friend know that they were healed? Is it like "feeling a bit better" healed or "my body is totally back to normal" healed? What if the sickness has just gone away temporarily & they'll relapse back into pain again shortly? How long do you wait before you call a miracle a miracle? Maybe medicine is helping?

...on & on came the flurry of questions until I finally realized what I was doing & then I felt like carp (which is sort of like feeling like crap, but fishier - or just a typo - sorry, random attempts at humour in the middle of me berating myself... laugh time over, back to the winge-ing).

Here I am beating up on God for not 'answering' my prayers when I pray them & then I get this quick message that may indicate that God has healed & answered the prayers of a lot of people who've been carrying this friend to God night & day & what do I do? I don't believe it. I'm skeptical, I want proof.

And I think how sad this is. How rough I am on God, that He just can't win with me.... If He doesn't 'act' as I want him to, then I'm mad at him & walk off in a huff. If He does do something, then I don't believe that he's done anything & I'm inspecting his workmanship, looking for holes, waiting for it to fall apart so I can wave my finger at him & say, "see, I told you so.... you're not answering my prayers like I want you to."

My friend Sharon B., whose parent's are doctors, chides me for the way I talk about doctors like it's one big conspiracy & they're all trying to keep us sick. She reminds me of how I seem to keep asking doctors to be 'God' - to magically wave some wand & heal people....

... and I treat God like this, too. I blame him if things don't work on my schedule or according to my will....

...and the suspicion? well, maybe it comes from just an overactive desire to want to believe... I want to believe that divine healing is real... it's just a hard thing to 'prove' to others & hence hard to prove to me & yeah... like I said, God doesn't get a break.

When I pray for someone, I want this surge of electricity to flow through me, I want my hand to grow hot, enflamed by some holy energy that surges into the person I'm praying for & I hope for the rush, the gasp of breath, as the person I'm praying for feels God's power moving through them, reforming cells, knitting things back together, dead or broken tissue reformed & recreated... and then to see them leap & jump knowing that they are healed & they'll never have to face this particular disease again.....

...but it doesn't seem to work like that. A lot of it is communal healing. We pray, we cry for each other, we hope, we get angry together, we laugh & tell jokes & try to make light of it & cheer up the person who is in pain.... we secretly curse our weaknesses & wonder if it's us that's breaking the chain, if it's us that doesn't have the right quota of faith & is somehow blocking the miracle from taking place.... but mostly we love. We show that we care, that someone matters to us enough that we'll kneel, we'll surround them with hearts aching for their well being & wellness....

... maybe in this cold world, this circle of love is healing in itself. Maybe this display of tenderness is more precious than our bodies which decay & fall apart.....

.... I think of all the people Jesus healed, even those he raised from the dead. Eventually all of them had 'relapses' - they all died & are buried in the ground.... but it's the healing of hearts, of souls that matters in eternity & is why we still read their stories today....

.... maybe true healing comes with less flash, less showmanship... maybe it comes in secret, after the praying is 'done' (though really it's never 'done').... maybe we wake up some day & go, "wow, I think I've experienced a miracle" & we wait for weeks to ensure there's no relapse & we don't shout it from the mountaintops 'cause we're really not sure what brought healing... but somewhere in our hearts, we hold on to the secret, the hope that it was a touch of the divine transforming our lives....

.... maybe healing seldom happens in the instant. Maybe it happens more over time. (Maybe I'm full of it & should stop trying to figure it out)....

... I feel a lot like Naaman, though... wanting healing, but wanting the big & flashy instead of wading into dirty old Jordan.....

Sorry God for being a putz & being so hard on you... not that you're not used to it by now, but still, you do lots of good things & I treat you pretty bad. Sorry.

Requiem

requiem

noun
1. a song or hymn of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person [syn: dirge]
2. a musical setting for a Mass celebrating the dead
3. a Mass celebrated for the dead

In music, a Mass for one or more dead persons, containing biblical passages and prayers for the admission of the dead to heaven. The term has been loosely applied to other musical compositions in honor of the dead. A German Requiem by Johannes Brahms, for example, uses texts from the Bible but is not a Mass.

I'd been warned.

Quite some time ago, a friend recommended the movie "Requiem for a Dream". Well, no, actually she recommended the music from the movie. Me being the obsessive collector type that I am figured I'd hunt down the movie & have had it sitting in my collection for nearly a year now. I'd heard it's a not-so happy movie & so have been waiting for a night where I didn't need to be happy for a while after.... I'd been warned by friends that it's a fairly devastating movie....

...so figured I had time tonight & after making a lovely stir fry sat down to watch the movie in the quiet of my house (roomies are out tonight). i'd braced myself, expecting it to be hard, painful... and had actually maybe overcompensated at the start. For the first half of the movie I'm thinking, where's the carnage? This isn't nearly as bad as people have told me... mostly just beautiful cinematography & characters that you start to really like in their messed up lives.... But the movie just builds & builds. By 70 minutes into the film, I'm trying to find the case so I can figure out how much longer this goes & hoping it will end swiftly & mercifully. At about 85 minutes in, it all goes in the crapper as the tragedy begins to reach conclusion & you watch the 'reaping' of seeds sown, watch lives crumble to bits as the fatal flaws emerge & the steel trap slams shut on these lives... 15 minutes later you reach the end, breathless, broken, watching lives of good people swallowed whole by the quest for significance, for love, for excitement, for a dream.....

I feel very alone right now. I crave the empty house & the roomies return will not solve the ache... I 'absord' in some ways the characters that I watch in movies. Right now I've got 4 peoples eyes & tears floating around in the imagery in my mind... that & the blasted soundtrack - beautiful, haunting, enticing, terrifying, hopeful... my heart & mind, the whispers of prayers reach out across the city tonight... the prayers search for lost souls in need of hope.... the prayers reach back to the past, both praying & thanking God for bringing friends through & bypassing the possibilities of the devastation that could have been.....

I think about the young girl last night, coming out of the movie theatre. She, like many of the rest her age, is dressed in tight clothes & showing off her cleavage. I hear her talking to a friend about calling for a cab & I see her walk back into the theatre & return a few minutes later. A silver car drives up & a door open. Her & a friend climb in & the car leaves.... A friend sees me looking at the girls leaving & comments, "yeah, I remember when I'd leave the theatre & all the pretty girls were actually my age".... but I'm lost in thought, begging, please God, let that be someone she knows in the car. Please let it not just be some guy she met. Help her get home safe....

... talked with a friend today about a lot of things... some of it was about dreams.... both of us have maybe sort of lost dreams we've had. I talked of dreams of being world changers & my friend commented that he couldn't remember ever having a dream like that.... I argued with him about that.... I remember bits & pieces of those dreams... partly 'cause they sounded like mine....

... I have lived a very sheltered life. I know that there is good & bad to this. I feel deeply & so have suffered things of the heart more than I maybe should for someone who has lived a pretty safe, pretty comfortable life.... I'm often theorized that I've felt enough pain to be able to relate, but not enough to debilitate me... there is some way that I am meant to be 'healer'... to bring whatever comfort I've recieved & share it around....

... what is the level of responsibility we take for each other? for our city & nation & planet? In the past I burned out my life trying to 'be there' for people & just flailing at the wind... now I sit more sheltered up in my house, my fortress of solitude & my heart looks out on the world through movies & books.... but where is the place of meeting, of getting dirty, of joining in the dark places to bring light..... do I even want this? What could I do for the four in this movie? What would I have to offer with a greater pull than the coke? There's not enough love in me (though I am connected to the source) to fill their voids of longing & liberate them from dependencies...

Just before Christmas I started seeing how limited my resources are & that's a part of why I joined up with the urban monastery community. I need to look less at me & more at the greater resources of community & ultimately of Christ to be able to change anything... but yet what to change... there are so many injustices & I think I talk more than I do. Dream more than act... Sure I love (more or less - pretty flawed & weak, but maybe a teeny bit) those I encounter, but I fear need, too. Fear being swallowed by it - fear that I'm not enough. That & I'm selfish. I want a life for 'me' - not that it's maybe that impressive of a life, but it's mine. I want friends, time, quiet places for creativity...

...and there is the dichotomy... I think I'd love to stay here in the quiet & live out my days in my quirkiness... but these 'windows' to the outside world open up longing... watching the four in the movie tonight, I take it personal... the same way that on Easter I took the lack of healing for a friend personally... I look out & think that 'my' world is under assault.... & I realize again, that none of this is mine. That even my breath is gift.... I claim nothing.... but it's a different sense of ownership - maybe it's still wrong - but it's this place of stewardship - this thing where you join with the One whose world it is & grieve & cry & ask for deliverance....

Maybe the sane people of the world don't wrestle with this stuff. Maybe others have the balance figured out. Have their 'boundaries' all set well (this after remembering a friend of mine pointing out the 'Boundaries' book in my library - a book given to me because I apparently 'suck' at boundaries. I'm still sort of bitter about the book & haven't really read it - first chapter or two, but yeah)....

... I look again at the mystery of the burning bush, the one that drew Moses in. "I must go & see this, " said Moses, " why is the bush not burnt up?" It was a miraculous sight - a bush all aflame, but yet not utterly consumed, not burnt to ash. How do we live this way? Aflame with the overwhelming ocean depth of God's love, poured into the thimble cup of us.... how does it not burst us wide open? I know we must live 'cracked' (how else does the light seep out), but how can the infinite indwell the finite, how can we love with the capacity that He loves with & not be destroyed by it....

"he that tries to save his life will lose it", says Jesus, "but he that loses his life for My sake shall find it".... I've recently come to embrace the idea that this means that we give up our quest to be 'somebody', that we stop trying to impress the world or prove ourselves to others.... we stop wearing the masks. I've started to embrace the idea that losing your life is to accept the reality of who you are, to walk in the full richness of your being, to live fully in the now, to realize that you are a gem in the crown of God, an arrow hidden in his quiver, the apple of His eye, the beloved of Jesus..... all of these are gifts given, not prizes earned.... death to self means receiving life from God & living in who he's made you to be instead of trying to be someone else that's 'better' than plain little old you....

...maybe this is a perversion of Jesus's words. Maybe it's exactly what he meant - or maybe it's somewhere in between. Time will be the tell... but maybe there is a requiem for each of us.... some song of grace that calls out to the ways we keep trying to destroy ourselves & beckons us to hope & life.... maybe some of us have been lucky enough to hear the requiem playing in the background before the train has jumped the tracks... maybe I'm one of those souls who 'got lucky' & somehow was 'weak' enough to drop my guard & let grace embrace me early in life... but there are so many others who need to hear the music, to listen to the siren song of melody that pulls them back from the edge, that calls from death to life, from hell to heaven.... how do we, how do I, be a people whose words, whose lives leave others unsettled? who are the fragrance of life that entices people to be embraced by grace instead of trying to fix it in their own way......

Celebration, Mediocrity, Dying, Resurrection

Well, I'm not one to toot my own horn normally, but yeah, I'll make an exception:

I think I hosted a pretty damn fine party on Saturday.

Had a bunch of friends old & new over at the house on Saturday & yeah, it went well. Pretty chaotic for me. Little tiny 1-2 minute conversations & then being pulled away or distracted to something else. But people seemed to enjoy themselves, so that's what matters.

I like hosting. I like serving. I find joy in it. Maybe I'm gifted with hospitality. Maybe it's just heart stuff... I still remember the line from "Life is beautiful" where the main character's dad smacks him upside the head for mocking their role as waiters. 'God is the first servant', the old man says. And i feel this is true. So my service of humanity in any big or small way is joining in with the servant heart of God & taking joy in seeing other's joy & of making their lives some tiny bit richer. This is why I think Jesus can say that giving a cup of cold water in His name is an important thing. It's maybe not so much the action, but the heart of love that calls us to bend, to kneel, to posture ourselves to place others needs & wants above our own.

Anyhow, it was fun. People looked happy & so that makes me feel all warm & fuzzy inside. Thanks to all who attended for making it a 'success'... made me feel rich with all the great people in my life.

Was thinking about the ideas of celebration & how it may be weird to thank people for coming out to a party & such, especially since it was sort of a psuedo-belated-birthday party for me. Normally b-day parties are all about the person who is celebrating the birthday & in an odd sense, I felt this was like that too though no one was all waiting on me hand & foot or anything. The celebration for me personally came in just realizing how much these people have blessed & enriched my life, past, present & (hopefully) future. My live would not really be worth the living if it wasn't for good & valued friends.... Even in my introversion & love of personal space, I'd die if I was alone.... or pray for death....

Quieter day today. Yesterday was spent cleaning & a bit of baking (icing cakes & making rhubarb crisps). Today was spent relaxing. Could've cleaned more, but the mess will wait. Pretty low mess party though - next to nothing to clean up. People ate most of the food, so just dumped the empty safeway trays in the garbage & picked up the loose paper plates & plastic cups.... very simple. Have to pull the exercise equipment out of the furnace room where it's hiding, but that's about it for remaining cleanup.

Random bits from the day:

- Batman Beyond: An episode where an aging Bruce Wayne is given a chance for youth again. Thought about what it would feel like to be a great hero, someone who has made a difference & to become old & frail & crippled. Wept at those thoughts. Wept at the idea of great men & women who are discarded & made a mockery of as they get older. Thought about Ecclesiasties & how Solomon laments that the good are forgotten like the evil, sometimes more quickly & how that no matter how much you do on this planet, nothing done under the sun will last. And, contrasting this with Song of Songs, thought about how maybe the only stuff that lasts is love & relationship & how that maybe it's enough to go through life just having loved one person & making their life better. Maybe that's all we really need to do to make a difference here on planet earth. Maybe it doesn't make a difference to only affect one life, unless you happen to be that one life & then it means everything.

- Finished the readings for this week. 1 Corinthians 15 & Isaiah 61. Again, both comforting & maddening passages. 1 Corinthians 15 is the great resurrection passage, the one that speaks that the resurrection, along with the cross, is central to our faith. If Jesus wasn't raised from the dead, then Christianity is a lie & completely false... if there is no risen Christ then everyone who talks of Jesus as more than just a good man or a good teacher is deluded at best or pathetic at worst. Our faith, my faith, relies on the reality of a risen Christ.... & yeah, this is again struggle place for me (see previous posts)... I believe that He is risen indeed, but I'm looking for the moments where I can feel His life coursing through every vein. Reading the passage today, I was looking to see if there's any place where it mentions that this new resurrection body happens this side of the grave & there was nothing. I wonder if instead of looking for resurrection power, of healing & casting out devils & things like this, instead I should be looking for weakness, frailty, fumbling & seeing God work through my limitations.

Isaiah 61 is likewise the passage that speaks of Jesus' (& our by extension) to preach good news, to lift up the brokenhearted & to set prisoners free.... it's a beautiful picture in this passage of bringing liberty & freedom to a people who have long been enslaved. For years I've taken this as a set of 'dream' verses. They stir deep within me a longing & an imagery of wanting to speak the words like Jesus did in Luke 4, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your ears'. This sounds like what I want to see: prisoners given freedom from whatever keeps them enslaved... but again it's hard to see that in the now - it seems so far away like some myth, some intangible dream....

Both passages speak of planting. 1 Corinthians speaks of all of us as seeds, our bodies planted in the ground awaiting new life. Isaiah talks that righteousness & praise will grow up like plants before the nations. I am reminded of Jesus' words in John 12:24 about how that unless a seed falls in the ground & dies it is alone. Once it dies it bears much fruit as new life, a new plant, grows from the broken, fractured heart of that seed. Is that what this life is for? In the middle of our dying is new life begun? Is this the only way to impact those around us, by dying? What does this 'dying' mean....

- in my conversations with one of my wonderful friends, I am becoming more & more aware of how much science & art have their common ground. There are industries to promote growth of these ventures, but yet they are run often by people who don't understand art or science & who only provide funding if they believe there is some return on investment. Those who can jump through the right hoops get funded. Those who don't, well, don't get funded. It seems that the really good science, like really good art, sort of gets overlooked because most true science & true art involves a lot of 'failure' - a lot of trying & finding that something 'doesn't work' or 'isn't the answer'. The artist & scientist learn that this 'failure' is just part of the process of exploring. It's finding what doesn't work that is as important as finding what does work in the end. For some reason the really great discoveries & great art come at a cost, a cost of lots of life given to pursue the 'truth' of what you're seeking.... But our society is geared for mediocrity. Those with the flashy stage acts or the popular scientific studies get funded. Those who will hide in a lab testing theory after theory, or in the quiet of their rooms with a guitar or spending years in smelly bars playing for 2-3 drunkards, the ones who at the end find their 'eureka' moment & produce something of relevance, these ones get overlooked, or have to barely eke out an existance before anyone recognizes what's actually there....

This too is vanity & vexation of spirit. Makes me feel like the world is a sucky place (oh & by the way, I think I see this at any of the engineering firms I've worked at/known, as well). Pop tunes get the airplay, deep soulful balads barely get heard....

- Had a brief chat with my brother & mentioned my complaint about a friend who is not well & I told him how it 'wasn't right' that this friend is suffering with sickness.... He wondered how I could make that statement - especially me as mr. shades-of-grey... I don't know. I probably suck in blaming doctors & blaming God when things aren't magically fixed. I don't think so rationally when it comes to friends & sickness... Maybe there is a higher purpose & I can't be so black & white. But I don't see it now, so I'll react out of my emotion & rebel against what is...until the darkness bleeds daylight.... (or until the Dayspring shows me how the light is going to come through this darkness)

- Talk with the community house tonight was good. Nice to work things through in community & hear the heart of everyone there. I'm not the only one in struggle, in wrestling. So this is maybe good. It excites me to watch people choose to be true to themselves & to chase the things that are on their heart. It's great to watch the internal compasses of people point 'true' & drive them into following what is their dream & passion...and it's beautiful to see passionate people go, "I can't do this on my own & I need the rest of you". Learning to grow in love & let our rough edges get honed by those who care about us.

I sort of alluded to my wrestling & started to get all overwhelmed & teary again... life just feels really 'big' right now.... which isn't a bad thing, just overwhelming

- Sort of related to the above: one more observation from the Green Lantern:Rebirth TPB (trade paper back). The battle in the series is the power of will against the power of fear. The only Green Lantern who does not become a puppet of Parallax, this embodiment of fear, is Kyle Raynor, the 'weakest' of the Green Lanterns. Or at least he feels the weakest 'cause he seems to be the only Lantern who knows fear, who lives with it every moment of every day. In the metaphor of the story, it is only the one who knows fear who can escape it's grasp. Only those who know their weaknesses who can admit their fears, name their fears, & not be held hostage by the need to look strong, be strong, all the while being manipulated by fear.....

this was encouraging for me with my 'much afraid' heart.... tonight at the meeting at the community house we talked about the things we fear are our weaknesses are the things through which strength will come eventually. Our failures bring wisdom, gifts, refining, revelation... the many little deaths we experience in the day to day somehow bring life... hope...resurrection for us & for others....