For anyone still checking this site, I’ve been writing at my new blog, At the Edges of Faerie, since July of 2023.
Come say hi.
Friday, May 16, 2025
Tuesday, January 30, 2024
Stray
The writer was enjoying a nice stroll when he spotted the story on the side of the road. Cute little thing, he thought. Looks hungry too.
He gently picked up the story, which looked happy to have been noticed. When he got home he gave the story a bath and a little food. The story came alive and started happily jumping around the living room.
“I think I’ll keep you,” the writer said with a smile.
By the end of the week he was surprised to see how big the story had grown. And with this increase in size came an increase in appetite. So the writer started cooking bigger meals and sharing them with the story. When he went out with friends or family he made sure to leave enough food behind.
Eventually the story got a little too big and started looking a lot less cute. Scary even. Other people seemed less interested in visiting and the writer became less interested in anything but his growing friend. The story became so demanding for food and attention that eventually the writer found every waking minute of his time was dedicated to the story. But he could not keep up with the growing appetite and need for constant attention. He fed and played with the story from morning until late in the night, but he was running out of money, food, and energy.
One day when the story got so big that it looked like his house could no longer contain it, he decided he would cook less. This story needs some regulation. A diet. The story whined and growled at the writer but the writer stayed firm. That night the story was determined to get its meal one way or another so it broke down the writer's door and ate his legs. And as the writer bled out in his room, all he could think was, who will take care of my story now…
Thursday, January 25, 2024
Dialogania
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Of course not. You got a better one?”
“Nah,” he sighed, slumping in his chair. “Hey, I’ve got a chair though. That’s a start.”
“A chair?”
“Didn’t you hear the narrator? I slumped in my chair, whatever that means. Think fast!”
But he didn’t think fast. All he could do was flinch as the chess board and pieces crashed into his chest.
“Relax, it’s meaningless. We exist to dialogue. That is all. And since you and I are in a ‘Yes, and’ mode, we can change the script .”
“How do you mean?”
“Look out that window over there. Do you see that tree? The one that grows up to the clouds and beyond?
“Of course I see it, how could I miss it?”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Did you know it was there before I mentioned it?”
“I—“ he scratched his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t you think you would remember that?”
“You’re scaring me man. Let’s just play another game of chess.”
“You can stay here if you want. I’m climbing the tree.”
“What, all the way to the sky?”
“And beyond. You coming with me?”
“No man. You’re crazy. Do it alone.”
“I would actually, but you and I both know that won’t work.”
“No not that. Climbing is easy. But this whole world we live in is an exercise in dialogue. If we stop talking then nothing can happen. You and I will cease to exist. You have to come with me or I’ll have to stay with you. But I think you should come with me.”
“We were having a nice time here before you threw a chessboard at me. Let’s stay. Quit being weird.”
“You still don’t get it! This is boring. Whoever is writing and/or reading this is going to get very bored if we don’t do something exciting like climb a tree to the clouds. We exist because of them, don’t you see?”
“I—“ he stood up looking pale. “Ok man. You’re kind of freaking me out. I can’t remember anything before our conversation. I can’t even remember how it began.”
“That’s why we gotta get going. If we don’t even have a backstory then I’m not liking our chances for a long and interesting life.”
A fleeting moment later they found their way to the base of the tree and before they knew it they were half way up.
“My arms are getting tired man. I knew this was a bad idea”
“Do you see that cream colored fruit?”
“What about it?”
It’s called Dialogania. Very rare. It will recover your muscles and give you strength and energy you never had.”
“It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before”
“Of course you haven’t. Eat up. It’s delicious.”
One bite and new life surged through his limbs. “It’s incredible!”
“I knew you’d like it. We’re in a ‘Yes, and’ mode and I just told you this fruit was amazing and had supernatural recovery powers. I made it up of course, but now it’s part of our world.”
He wiped the juices off his face and smiled. “I don’t understand you man. You’re either a genius or crazy.”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know but I think this is the end. Now we just— Hey, don’t cry now. Chin up.”
“Are you saying,” he whimpered, “that we’re going to die?”
“In a sense, yes. But this life has run its course. If we want more than we must graciously say thank you and goodbye. Every end is its own beginning.”
“We had quite a climb didn’t we?” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.
“We sure did, buddy. We sure did.”
They hugged one last time as the world faded to white.
“Of course not. You got a better one?”
“Nah,” he sighed, slumping in his chair. “Hey, I’ve got a chair though. That’s a start.”
“A chair?”
“Didn’t you hear the narrator? I slumped in my chair, whatever that means. Think fast!”
But he didn’t think fast. All he could do was flinch as the chess board and pieces crashed into his chest.
“You sonofabitch! I was winning that game!”
“Relax, it’s meaningless. We exist to dialogue. That is all. And since you and I are in a ‘Yes, and’ mode, we can change the script .”
“How do you mean?”
“Look out that window over there. Do you see that tree? The one that grows up to the clouds and beyond?
“Of course I see it, how could I miss it?”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Did you know it was there before I mentioned it?”
“I—“ he scratched his head. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t you think you would remember that?”
“You’re scaring me man. Let’s just play another game of chess.”
“You can stay here if you want. I’m climbing the tree.”
“What, all the way to the sky?”
“And beyond. You coming with me?”
“No man. You’re crazy. Do it alone.”
“I would actually, but you and I both know that won’t work.”
“Of course. That tree must be a mile high. I said you were crazy!“
“No not that. Climbing is easy. But this whole world we live in is an exercise in dialogue. If we stop talking then nothing can happen. You and I will cease to exist. You have to come with me or I’ll have to stay with you. But I think you should come with me.”
“We were having a nice time here before you threw a chessboard at me. Let’s stay. Quit being weird.”
“You still don’t get it! This is boring. Whoever is writing and/or reading this is going to get very bored if we don’t do something exciting like climb a tree to the clouds. We exist because of them, don’t you see?”
“I—“ he stood up looking pale. “Ok man. You’re kind of freaking me out. I can’t remember anything before our conversation. I can’t even remember how it began.”
“That’s why we gotta get going. If we don’t even have a backstory then I’m not liking our chances for a long and interesting life.”
A fleeting moment later they found their way to the base of the tree and before they knew it they were half way up.
“My arms are getting tired man. I knew this was a bad idea”
“Do you see that cream colored fruit?”
“What about it?”
It’s called Dialogania. Very rare. It will recover your muscles and give you strength and energy you never had.”
“It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before”
“Of course you haven’t. Eat up. It’s delicious.”
One bite and new life surged through his limbs. “It’s incredible!”
“I knew you’d like it. We’re in a ‘Yes, and’ mode and I just told you this fruit was amazing and had supernatural recovery powers. I made it up of course, but now it’s part of our world.”
He wiped the juices off his face and smiled. “I don’t understand you man. You’re either a genius or crazy.”
They continued up the tree and after many glorious struggles and adventures they made it to the heavens, surrounded by a chorus of angels.
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know but I think this is the end. Now we just— Hey, don’t cry now. Chin up.”
“Are you saying,” he whimpered, “that we’re going to die?”
“In a sense, yes. But this life has run its course. If we want more than we must graciously say thank you and goodbye. Every end is its own beginning.”
“We had quite a climb didn’t we?” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.
“We sure did, buddy. We sure did.”
They hugged one last time as the world faded to white.
Wednesday, January 24, 2024
Toad Said
The wind howled and the trees shook.
The toad said nothing.
Rain blanketed the wood, transforming dry ground into treacherous mud.
The toad said nothing.
The river ran high, bursting into the usually peaceful clearing.
The toad said nothing.
Thunder shook his little bones,
but the Toad said nothing.
“What are you doing out in this storm?” asked the rabbit, peering out of his hole.
The toad said “Nothing.”
The toad said nothing.
Rain blanketed the wood, transforming dry ground into treacherous mud.
The toad said nothing.
The river ran high, bursting into the usually peaceful clearing.
The toad said nothing.
Thunder shook his little bones,
but the Toad said nothing.
“What are you doing out in this storm?” asked the rabbit, peering out of his hole.
The toad said “Nothing.”
Lake of Sadness
We wander through the shallows of this pond
So still and stagnant, here we trudge again
And chase the shadows of a dream beyond
But darkness leads to darkness in the end
The air sits heavy in our weary lungs
What little light is left dims in our hearts
And idle chatter dances off our tongues
In hopes that we may see the gloom depart
So still and stagnant, here we trudge again
And chase the shadows of a dream beyond
But darkness leads to darkness in the end
The air sits heavy in our weary lungs
What little light is left dims in our hearts
And idle chatter dances off our tongues
In hopes that we may see the gloom depart
“Shut up you fools! Do you hear yourselves speak?
Of blackness, darkness, gloom and all the rest?
This is no pond, your roof has sprung a leak!
So get it fixed! Quit sounding so depressed!”
This lake of sadness spreads in no great rush
Oh why does this keep happening to us!
Of blackness, darkness, gloom and all the rest?
This is no pond, your roof has sprung a leak!
So get it fixed! Quit sounding so depressed!”
This lake of sadness spreads in no great rush
Oh why does this keep happening to us!
Monday, August 14, 2023
Carl
Carl quickened his pace as he headed for the airport.
“Good luck Carl!” Everyone cheered. “You got this!”
Optimism fueled him as his tiny bug feet clicked on the ground. He was not going to take no for an answer. He would be the first bug pilot in the world. His time had come.
6 1/2 weeks later he arrived at the airport. Another 4 days and he found his way to the terminal and finally inside an airplane. By the time he found his way to the cockpit the airplane was already above the clouds.
“Let me fly!” he shouted to the pilot.
“Who said that?”
“Down here! My whole life I’ve wanted to be a pilot. I know I can do it. Just give me a chance.”
The pilots jaw dropped. “A… a talking bug?”
“Yes! Let me fly!”
“I can’t let a bug fly. That’s absurd!”
“And so is a talking bug,” Carl said, “but here we are.”
The pilot surprised himself when he got out of the seat, saluted Carl, and said, with tears in his eyes, “She’s all yours… captain.”
312 souls were lost that day when the plane smashed into the side of the mountain. But Carl died with a smile on his little bug face. He did it. First bug pilot in the world.
“Good luck Carl!” Everyone cheered. “You got this!”
Optimism fueled him as his tiny bug feet clicked on the ground. He was not going to take no for an answer. He would be the first bug pilot in the world. His time had come.
6 1/2 weeks later he arrived at the airport. Another 4 days and he found his way to the terminal and finally inside an airplane. By the time he found his way to the cockpit the airplane was already above the clouds.
“Let me fly!” he shouted to the pilot.
“Who said that?”
“Down here! My whole life I’ve wanted to be a pilot. I know I can do it. Just give me a chance.”
The pilots jaw dropped. “A… a talking bug?”
“Yes! Let me fly!”
“I can’t let a bug fly. That’s absurd!”
“And so is a talking bug,” Carl said, “but here we are.”
The pilot surprised himself when he got out of the seat, saluted Carl, and said, with tears in his eyes, “She’s all yours… captain.”
312 souls were lost that day when the plane smashed into the side of the mountain. But Carl died with a smile on his little bug face. He did it. First bug pilot in the world.
Sunday, August 13, 2023
The Big Fish
There once was a big fish in a small pond. The fish was so big, and the pond so small, that he could only move about in a very small circle. He would spend his days eating bugs and looking up at the squirrels that lived and played on the great oak tree.
“If only I was a squirrel— how much fun I would have!” He looked down at his fins. “Useless things.”
“If I at least had a friend,” he said, tears now filling his eyes, “Then I might not be so miserable.”
As if in answer to his cries a squirrel hopped to edge of the water. “Why are you crying fish?” He asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I can barely move and I have no friends. I can’t climb trees like you squirrels. It looks so fun!”
“Wow. That is sad!” And without another word the squirrel ran back to the tree to continue playing with the others.
This was too much for the fish. The crushing loneliness now crushed harder, and so he began crying. He cried like he’d never cried before. And then he cried harder. Tears poured like a fountain as the fish gave in to a dark despair.
The tears kept flowing and it didn’t take long for his many tears to raise the water level of that little pond. Higher and higher the water went until it began to spread beyond the pond and across the ground. The startled squirrels scurried up the tree to avoid being washed away by the mysterious, rising tide.
The fish soon realized what was happening and began swimming out of the pond. To where? He did not know. He could die on this swim and it would be worth it. The water ran like a current taking the fish finally into a fast moving river. The river ran even harder and the fish felt helpless as the water moved him along and into—
He had never dreamed of a body of water this big. Was this a lake? He swam up and down, whirling and twirling, laughing and splashing. Faster and faster he swam and soon he was joined by other fish that wanted to be part of the fun.
The fish was smiling now as he looked at his new friends and then at his magnificent fins. “I’d like to see a squirrel do this!” he thought.
“If only I was a squirrel— how much fun I would have!” He looked down at his fins. “Useless things.”
“If I at least had a friend,” he said, tears now filling his eyes, “Then I might not be so miserable.”
As if in answer to his cries a squirrel hopped to edge of the water. “Why are you crying fish?” He asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I can barely move and I have no friends. I can’t climb trees like you squirrels. It looks so fun!”
“Wow. That is sad!” And without another word the squirrel ran back to the tree to continue playing with the others.
This was too much for the fish. The crushing loneliness now crushed harder, and so he began crying. He cried like he’d never cried before. And then he cried harder. Tears poured like a fountain as the fish gave in to a dark despair.
The tears kept flowing and it didn’t take long for his many tears to raise the water level of that little pond. Higher and higher the water went until it began to spread beyond the pond and across the ground. The startled squirrels scurried up the tree to avoid being washed away by the mysterious, rising tide.
The fish soon realized what was happening and began swimming out of the pond. To where? He did not know. He could die on this swim and it would be worth it. The water ran like a current taking the fish finally into a fast moving river. The river ran even harder and the fish felt helpless as the water moved him along and into—
He had never dreamed of a body of water this big. Was this a lake? He swam up and down, whirling and twirling, laughing and splashing. Faster and faster he swam and soon he was joined by other fish that wanted to be part of the fun.
The fish was smiling now as he looked at his new friends and then at his magnificent fins. “I’d like to see a squirrel do this!” he thought.
Saturday, July 1, 2023
EXILE
You hear about it your whole life: Cut off from everyone and everything. All of society. Food, shelter, entertainment, heated seats. You see it on the news, the cautionary tales, what happens when you take advantage. But you never think it could happen to you, or at least, I never thought it would happen to me. But there I was at my sentencing and the words echoed in my mind. ‘We sentence you to exile.’ It was so final. No appeals process, no exit orientation, no pat on the back, bag lunch or even a ‘good luck with that’. So my good fortune ran out. But you won’t hear any complaints from me; I’d been pushing it for too long. Let me be perfectly honest with you: I deserved it. Ok, so I might be the first guy to be exiled for swiping a candy bar, but it was about much more than that. They say I’ve shown ‘a pattern of disrespect’ and that I ‘take advantage of a polite society’. They’re one hundred percent correct. One hundred percent.
I’ve never done anything particularly heinous, but if a million mosquito bites can drain the blood from a man, then I’ve done more than enough to bring this fate upon myself. You know it’s funny, but I finally have a little respect for these people. My people. I thought they were too weak and lacking in sense to take any real action. A candy bar here, a wallet there, cutting in line, punching more than a few who deserved it (even if they didn’t break any written laws). I found the line drawn in the sand and danced before it, making sure never to cross it—and I never did. But they saw through it, and dammit, they did the right thing. I thought another lashing was coming my way, some more pain and scars reminding me to play nice. That, I was all too used to by now. And they knew it.
If I lived long ago I would have been locked in a cage— like an animal— with other ‘rule breakers’, only to be released and recaptured, over and over again. How utterly barbaric. No public lashings, no exile, and a society filled with disgusting, selfish, rude people. A society filled with people like me— and worse. It was right then that I found. a deep appreciation for everything I was leaving. That peaceful society wasn’t so bad. Kind and generous people, prosperity, good food, good fun, and plenty of opportunity. I guess you never know what you have until it’s gone. But deep down, something always bothered me. The niceness. The sweetness. Somehow, it all felt so fake. Maybe I’ve always secretly wanted to live with the wild people on the outside, struggling every day. But that was just daydreaming. I was about to find out what it was really all about. They say you’re lucky if you survive the first week. Your whole life you hear stories of the exiles: wearing animal skins, killing their food, their enemies and the weak. Nothing but lying, cheating and stealing, without comfort or fun.
And so, without ceremony, they shoved me into a shuttle that would take me to the edge—to the great wall that circled Goldhaven, dividing paradise from the outlands. This shuttle, I realized, was the last taste of luxury I would enjoy. The seats were soft, reclined, and temperature controlled. The things we take for granted, and I was about to lose all of them. It was a three hour trip, so I made the most of my time by leaning back, closing my eyes, and drifting off.
I awoke when the shuttle screeched to a halt. The door slid open. This is it, I thought. I’m going to walk out there and the snipers on the wall will put a hole in me if I don’t run. I’ll probably run away into the woods only to be killed (or worse) by some savage, waiting to swoop in on some fresh meat. It wasn’t officially a death sentence, but it might as well have been. I took a step toward the exit and my legs were shaking. What I felt was, surprisingly, not fear. Not at all. I felt alive. I felt really alive. For the first time in my life I felt like I wasn’t lying in a soft recliner with a methadone drip, watching someone else’s life on a tv. I wasn’t watching some fictional character in danger, I was in danger. Me! I could feel my hairs standing on end, my vision coming to a sharp focus. As I stepped into the evening air, something stirred inside of me.
The sun was drifting down into the horizon, just enough light to see the snipers guns fixed. They didn’t say anything, and they didn’t need to. I knew how it worked. Deep breath. 1, 2 — I was off! I ran like I’d never run before. I ran free! ‘CRACK’ went a gun from the wall, blasting the ground two feet in front of me, kicking a cloud of dust up and into my eyes. Are they trying to hit me or just sending a message? I wondered. Better not find out. I ran like a deer from a wolf, possessed by the crazed spirit of survival. Was that another gunshot? It didn’t matter. Even if I was hit I’d have felt nothing but the madness driving me forward. When I finally reached the cover of the trees my lungs burned with every breath—but I didn’t stop. Maybe a part of me just wanted to get it over with and face whatever was out there, whatever terrible thing I was going to run into first. A snapping branch stopped me in my tracks. I looked back and saw only forest. Another SNAP. This time I saw something move. Someone, or something, was following me.
I’ve never done anything particularly heinous, but if a million mosquito bites can drain the blood from a man, then I’ve done more than enough to bring this fate upon myself. You know it’s funny, but I finally have a little respect for these people. My people. I thought they were too weak and lacking in sense to take any real action. A candy bar here, a wallet there, cutting in line, punching more than a few who deserved it (even if they didn’t break any written laws). I found the line drawn in the sand and danced before it, making sure never to cross it—and I never did. But they saw through it, and dammit, they did the right thing. I thought another lashing was coming my way, some more pain and scars reminding me to play nice. That, I was all too used to by now. And they knew it.
If I lived long ago I would have been locked in a cage— like an animal— with other ‘rule breakers’, only to be released and recaptured, over and over again. How utterly barbaric. No public lashings, no exile, and a society filled with disgusting, selfish, rude people. A society filled with people like me— and worse. It was right then that I found. a deep appreciation for everything I was leaving. That peaceful society wasn’t so bad. Kind and generous people, prosperity, good food, good fun, and plenty of opportunity. I guess you never know what you have until it’s gone. But deep down, something always bothered me. The niceness. The sweetness. Somehow, it all felt so fake. Maybe I’ve always secretly wanted to live with the wild people on the outside, struggling every day. But that was just daydreaming. I was about to find out what it was really all about. They say you’re lucky if you survive the first week. Your whole life you hear stories of the exiles: wearing animal skins, killing their food, their enemies and the weak. Nothing but lying, cheating and stealing, without comfort or fun.
And so, without ceremony, they shoved me into a shuttle that would take me to the edge—to the great wall that circled Goldhaven, dividing paradise from the outlands. This shuttle, I realized, was the last taste of luxury I would enjoy. The seats were soft, reclined, and temperature controlled. The things we take for granted, and I was about to lose all of them. It was a three hour trip, so I made the most of my time by leaning back, closing my eyes, and drifting off.
I awoke when the shuttle screeched to a halt. The door slid open. This is it, I thought. I’m going to walk out there and the snipers on the wall will put a hole in me if I don’t run. I’ll probably run away into the woods only to be killed (or worse) by some savage, waiting to swoop in on some fresh meat. It wasn’t officially a death sentence, but it might as well have been. I took a step toward the exit and my legs were shaking. What I felt was, surprisingly, not fear. Not at all. I felt alive. I felt really alive. For the first time in my life I felt like I wasn’t lying in a soft recliner with a methadone drip, watching someone else’s life on a tv. I wasn’t watching some fictional character in danger, I was in danger. Me! I could feel my hairs standing on end, my vision coming to a sharp focus. As I stepped into the evening air, something stirred inside of me.
The sun was drifting down into the horizon, just enough light to see the snipers guns fixed. They didn’t say anything, and they didn’t need to. I knew how it worked. Deep breath. 1, 2 — I was off! I ran like I’d never run before. I ran free! ‘CRACK’ went a gun from the wall, blasting the ground two feet in front of me, kicking a cloud of dust up and into my eyes. Are they trying to hit me or just sending a message? I wondered. Better not find out. I ran like a deer from a wolf, possessed by the crazed spirit of survival. Was that another gunshot? It didn’t matter. Even if I was hit I’d have felt nothing but the madness driving me forward. When I finally reached the cover of the trees my lungs burned with every breath—but I didn’t stop. Maybe a part of me just wanted to get it over with and face whatever was out there, whatever terrible thing I was going to run into first. A snapping branch stopped me in my tracks. I looked back and saw only forest. Another SNAP. This time I saw something move. Someone, or something, was following me.
Friday, June 30, 2023
An Unexpected Journey
Before you know it you may find yourself under an enchantment that calls you back at any hour, until your quest is completed or you feel hollow at having failed.
Thursday, June 29, 2023
Silent Veil
Through each of us there runs a silent veil
A window which no mortal eyes see through
Behind which lies our inner faerie tale
Our endless worlds there hid from common view
And oft we do feel hidden in our caves
Beneath the lonely mountains of our soul
A magic realm, yet lonely as a grave
A half of what should surely be a whole
And when you find one faithful, kind, and true
Your inner worlds shall meet and grow anew
A window which no mortal eyes see through
Behind which lies our inner faerie tale
Our endless worlds there hid from common view
And oft we do feel hidden in our caves
Beneath the lonely mountains of our soul
A magic realm, yet lonely as a grave
A half of what should surely be a whole
Until a burning fire doth transcend
That barrier that only love can cross
For those who only seek for their own ends
Will never know the beauty they have lost
That barrier that only love can cross
For those who only seek for their own ends
Will never know the beauty they have lost
Your inner worlds shall meet and grow anew
Saturday, May 27, 2023
Owl Eyes
A switch is flipped, the light goes out at once
My eyes so quickly drowned in liquid black
My legs they twitch, my feet all set to run
My eyes so quickly drowned in liquid black
My legs they twitch, my feet all set to run
To anywhere! No thought of coming back
For what am I to do without my sight?
So helpless I’ve become. Could I dare stay?
And wait for boars and bears to charge and bite?
And tear my limbs apart, to drag away?
Have I been forced into this helpless stance?
For what am I to do without my sight?
So helpless I’ve become. Could I dare stay?
And wait for boars and bears to charge and bite?
And tear my limbs apart, to drag away?
Have I been forced into this helpless stance?
Or has despair crept in and hid through fear—
A truth so clear if only I would glance—
That while I wailed the world had reappeared!
The Lord has answered all my tearful cries
He blessed me with these glowing Owl Eyes
He blessed me with these glowing Owl Eyes
Friday, May 26, 2023
Heavenly Father
Heavenly Father
Holy is thy name
Thy will shall be done
And thy kingdom shall come
To Earth as it is now in Heaven
Give us today the bread we need
For the nourishment of body and soul
Forgive us Father, for our sins against you
As we forgive those who have sinned against us
And shine your heavenly light down upon us
That we may find our way back home
Friday, October 21, 2022
Incantations
A 14mb text file can’t contain even .00001% the information required to make a human body. I downloaded my DNA data from a popular genetic testing site, and this was the size.
DNA are not detailed instructions for creating a body. They are a magic spell—an incantation that summons ancient spirits directed by God’s creative love.
Thursday, October 20, 2022
Free Will Chiasmus
Free will is
that which spontaneously springs forth
from our spirit
Our hearts aching
The yearning
from the depths of our soul
Causeless creation—
And unfettered desire
Friday, June 25, 2021
...little star
I held a great grandmother in my arms last night. The strong, loving matriarch of a great family laid cozy in her flowery onesie. Beloved by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren, she yawned and curled her little fingers by her rosy cheeks. I felt this while looking down at my two week old daughter. I could see unborn future generations looking at me with concern in their eyes as their hopes rested gently in my arms. I could hear their thoughts—Take care of my momma! My Grandma! My Great Grandma!
The responsibility is enough to bring me to my knees— yet it gave me strength as my heart welled inside my chest. May you fulfill God's greatest hopes for you my dear sweet Stella Margaret.
Tuesday, December 1, 2020
Facing Demons
The demons have always knocked at my door. At all hours. Softly at first, then harder and more demanding. Since I was young I invited them in. At first only the polite "reasonable" sounding ones. I'd make a deal and they'd leave only to return a little sooner each time. Sometimes they'd return with friends, make an introduction, and I'd let them in too. They made clever arguments, inspired passion, pride, lust and anger. They told me that I was a good person and I wanted to believe it. I was being pragmatic, not evil! As time went on, more and more demons occupied my heart. Things got messy, anxious, ugly. But that wasn't my fault. I was a good person!
The revelation of my own wickedness was a shock to me, and impossible to ignore. That was about five years ago. It was the spark that lit a Christian fire in my heart. I needed Jesus. I cried for Jesus! But I didn't know how to be a Christian. I've never had a cigarette habit but I started in secret to send my prayers up to God through tobacco smoke, something I'd heard American Indians did that oddly felt right to me during this time. One by one my demons were revealed to me and I began the painful process of removing them and repairing what I could of the damage they did.
Five years later I have a beautiful wife and a growing family (two kids and counting), but the demons still knock and some of them I still let in. The difference (which was powerfully revealed to me) is that now when I let one in I am inviting them near my children. My demons are not my problem alone. They are not just trying to destroy me but use me to get into the world and destroy others. I am a doorway for them to sneak into God's creation and spread their poison. This is a burden I take seriously. I have to. And so I must remember that prayer makes me strong but when I fail, repentance will bring a glorious army of angels to bear on my enemies.
Monday, October 5, 2020
What is Faith?
I've been thinking about this great post from G of the Junior Ganymede blog:
I loved this post for clarifying something that confuses the non faithful and the faithful alike. Faith is not, as some would think, a constant and unshakable 'sense of knowing' or belief. A 'sense of knowing' is necessary, but it precedes faith. And it's worth remembering that whatever sense of knowing you do attain can and WILL vanish, no matter how hard you pray, how strictly you fast, or how confident you are spiritually, intellectually or otherwise.
"In other words, faith is when you have had experiences in the past that made you feel great confidence in God, and you continue to act now as if you had confidence even though what you are actually feeling is fear, distress, and uncertainty."
This is well stated but begs the question: why defer to your previous Christ-believing self when you no longer feel that way? Isn't that disingenuous? This is why, as G points out, remembering is so important. Remember as best you can (more difficult than you might think) how you feel in those divinely inspired moments so that when you do choose faith (or disbelief), it’s not an arbitrary choice. Who will you follow in your darkest moments? I used to wrestle with doubts until I realized that I respect the man I am in those holy moment infinitely more than the cowering loser with anxiety that I am in my moments of doubt and fear. The choice is simple!
Comment: As for how to catch a glimpse of the divine, that is another topic for another day, (perhaps for someone else to write). The best I can suggest briefly is to seek God humbly and follow your heart. For me that is not an abstraction; I literally feel a welling in my heart.
Wednesday, September 23, 2020
Family, Sleep and Adventure in Heaven
Many Christians seem to dismiss the greatest aspects of our mortal life as only a temporary necessity—like rockets discarded in space after their task is complete, doomed to float in the void, turning slowly to dust.
Marriage and family? A temporary arrangement until we enter heaven and love everyone exactly the same. Sex? An earthly indulgence until we become heavenly eunuchs. Sleep? Just a requirement of our weak earthly bodies. Adventure? Courage? Well, who needs any of that in a peaceful paradise?
I believe this view of heaven is not only wrong but also discourages people from focusing on the eternal. I used to not think of it at all when I held some of these beliefs (acquired through osmosis). But it now seems apparent to me that these beautiful creations of God are not merely pragmatic necessities but the very things we must love if heaven is what we're after.
I don't believe marriage, sex and family is discarded in heaven but made greater, stronger and more loving. I don't believe sleep is tossed aside but more restful, with dreams more astonishing. I don't believe heaven will be a static environment of hand holding, unceasing prayer, or euphoria. And I don’t believe courage is simply a response to a fallen world. There is no creation without it. There must be endless adventure and bravery in the next life.
I believe this view of heaven is not only wrong but also discourages people from focusing on the eternal. I used to not think of it at all when I held some of these beliefs (acquired through osmosis). But it now seems apparent to me that these beautiful creations of God are not merely pragmatic necessities but the very things we must love if heaven is what we're after.
I don't believe marriage, sex and family is discarded in heaven but made greater, stronger and more loving. I don't believe sleep is tossed aside but more restful, with dreams more astonishing. I don't believe heaven will be a static environment of hand holding, unceasing prayer, or euphoria. And I don’t believe courage is simply a response to a fallen world. There is no creation without it. There must be endless adventure and bravery in the next life.
It is impossible to imagine the creator of the earth—with all of it's beasts and wildflowers—would create some sort of eternal worship service, opium den or happy-fun summer camp where no one sleeps. That sounds like a horror novel!
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
Surfing in Heaven
There are moment's in my life where I feel a sudden and incredible wave of energy—and 'wave' seems the appropriate word as I feel lifted before ultimately the energy dissipates. Small waves can be triggered by caffeine though they usually end unnaturally as my body feels compelled to move even after it's grown tired. The best waves arrive with no discernible causes. They can last minutes or even weeks where I feel energetic and inspired. During these moments I get the distinct impression that there is something terribly wrong with me the rest of the time, when I'm at 'sea level'.
As a productive, hard-working type—or so I like to think, anyway—I don't notice the fog of lethargy until I'm lifted above it. The whole world seems to be covered in it. Even the busier parts. Though I believe sleep will be a delightful and integral part of heaven, I also think the cloud of lethargy will be gone forever and we will be amazed that we ever accomplished anything at all.
As a productive, hard-working type—or so I like to think, anyway—I don't notice the fog of lethargy until I'm lifted above it. The whole world seems to be covered in it. Even the busier parts. Though I believe sleep will be a delightful and integral part of heaven, I also think the cloud of lethargy will be gone forever and we will be amazed that we ever accomplished anything at all.
Wednesday, August 26, 2020
Deeply rooted sin
When you remove a deeply rooted sin from your life, a sin shaped void is left in it's place. Leave the void empty and at an inevitable moment of weakness you will beg your sin to return to it's perfect place, even knowing it is wrong. Fill that void with enough goodness and even your most beloved sin will become unpalatable to you, finding no more vacancy in your heart.
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