Sound of little feet…

Dauntless. Adventure. Endurance.

Surprise. Carousel. Crescent.

Assurance. Orient. Success.

Diamond. Resistance. Flyer.

Penzance. Pandora. Bounty.

Treader. Nightingale. Valorous.

Resource. Speedwell. Lively.

Active. Anglesea. Rainbow.

Victory. Kinsale. Crown.

Magicenne…

When things don’t look great and fear stops for more than a “hey!” it’s time to take to lash and lay and bring that thought’s bow about.

Shouting a list of ship names is always sure to set your heart for sea.

At least, it works for ___.

P.S. try the list again, out loud – your guts will get tight and gird themselves up and fly into a courage so strong your footprints will sound like the clouds in the painting below. (You might think I’m making that up…)

So he went to the mountain…

I would never write about skinny dipping but if I did I would write about washing your heart in the crisp mountain stream which springs from Isolation.  If you would shimmy your heart from worldly dressings and let down your cares, you must go to the wilderness where everything lives wild and free from the fear of interruption. Naked hearts are even more alarming and awe full than naked bodies. Better to go alone, mostly. Invite and the Whisper might and the Whisper will come and wash your feet there. Wade and splash and bask and be made new.  In quietness and trust is your strength.

Take your heart to the mountain, just the One who Loves and you.


He’s not afraid…

A good man might take responsibility for all his wrongs, stand up right, beat a noble drum and bear his own burden. A very good man, might.

But what kind of man stands quietly while falsely accused, taking the blame for another willingly, even to death, dying under their shame?

What kind of man would give his heart so completely?

Stretching one hand to the east and one to the west… saying, “fire away.”

Careful with the music video, it has claws.

The cop in the video plays a character whose Name I think you know.

The woman’s name…


…just don’t run away.

Last night…

Laughter climbed the walls and swung from heart to heart on those steel monkey bars forged in long furious fights for love.

Freedom stained our lips and the white tablecloth where a joke ambushed us mid drink.

Looking around, finding sparkling soul windows all around, mine almost cried.

We fought battles to be here.  We got scars to be here.

But not everyone is here.

So we drink, and we remember.
We remember the battle we couldn’t fight and the scars we didn’t get.
We remember the night Death found us covered in blood and not our own.
And we remember the One who doesn’t drink tonight.

We drink a bright living thing trampled underfoot
and killed
and wrung
and flowed into a dark place to rest.

We drink a new thing, living again
and poured out
and blotting out
and knitting heartstrings
in glowing bonds of a forever freedom.

We drink.  And this is called Joy.

So I smile while my eyes surrender.  
I laugh and taste the salt too.

Because we are here and not every one, yet.

Only from you…

Sunlight is popping over the horizon
but a poofy cloud blanket is keeping the bright beams at bay.

Silver crowned, hands scarred and healed and scarred again, a man places his book at the long table and goes to the counter.

“Morning.”  A true smile.  “Just a regular coffee.”

Other men begin to fill the long table.

“Here you go sir.”

“Thank you.  God bless you today.”

In a booth by the door, two women are talking.  
Well, one of them is talking.  And wiping her eyes.

Her ancestors probably came from a land in the northern hemisphere.  
The other woman, somewhere closer to the sun.

Resting on the table next to their water cups, their bibles are closed.  
I don’t think their hearts are.

Doors swing open on the SUV that just parked in front.
The buzz-cut is a simple look but the story in his eyes isn’t.  

Two miniature versions bounce around from the other side,
half his height and half again.

They could be Russian nesting dolls…  Asian nesting dolls.

The boys are scanning through the glass at the menu
before they even make it to the door.

This is a special morning.

Getting up to refill my coffee, an excuse to peek at the book on the long table.

Waking The Dead, by John Eldredge.

Well amen.

Emerson…

Self-reliance, the height and perfection of man, is reliance on God.

DOUBT

Respect the child. Be not too much his parent.
Trespass not on his solitude.

Our strength grows out of our weakness.
The indignation which arms itself with secret forces
does not awaken until we are pricked and stung and sorely assailed.

Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming
that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.

A great man is always willing to be little.
Whilst he sits on the cushion of advantages, he goes to sleep.
When he is pushed, tormented, defeated, he has a chance to learn something;
he has been put on his wits, on his manhood; he has gained facts; learns his ignorance; is cured of the insanity of conceit; has got moderation and real skill.

The purpose of life seems to be to acquaint a man with himself.
He is not to live the future as described to him
but to live the real future to the real present.
The highest revelation is that God is in every man.

We are, like Nebuchadnezzar, dethroned,
bereft of reason, and eating grass like an ox.

Yet a man may love a paradox,
without losing either his wit or his honesty.

ACT

Be it how it will, do right now.

The thing done avails, and not what is said about it.
An original sentence, a step forward,
is worth more than all the censures.

Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions.
All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.

The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks.

Of course, he who has put forth his total strength in fit actions,
has the richest return of wisdom.

It is easy to live for others; everybody does.
I call on you to live for yourselves.

KNOW

Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.
Accept the place the divine providence has found for you,
the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events.
Great men have always done so.

People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character.

To different minds, the same world is a hell, and a heaven.

Truth is handsomer than the affectation of love.
Your goodness must have some edge to it — else it is none.

Speak what you think now in hard words,
and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks
in hard words again,
though it contradict every thing you said today.

I hung my verse in the wind
Time and tide their faults will find.

STAND

Valor consists in the power of self-recovery,
so that a man cannot have his flank turned,
cannot be out-generalled,
but put him where you will,
he stands.


Despair, never.

Afraid to laugh…

“If a good god is real why doesn’t he or she just show up sitting on a cloud or riding a unicorn with wings or something?”

“Did you know Where’s Waldo has sold more than 55 million copies around the world?”

“Huh?”

“Where’s Waldo, the crowd scenes with the Waldo character hiding in every single one…”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Great way to kill time. Super hard to find that guy sometimes. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“How many do you think we would buy if every page was just a giant picture of Waldo’s face?”

I waited for a giant picture for a long time. Then I got bored.

What if the point of all this is to get good at killing time?

Eternity is a long time, after all.

“Seek, and you will find.”

Maybe God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh…

Excuse me, I’m being serious here, did you just giggle?

What does it all mean?

Only 7% of humans are alive today.

Wise guys guess over 100 billion humans have existed, ever.

7 billion alive today = 7%.

That means you are 0.00000000001% of humans to have life, ever. *

At any point in life, a human is personally familiar with about 150 other humans, on average. **

The 150 people you know total 0.0000000015% of the humans to have life, ever. ***

You are alive today. And the few with you.

Not 1,000 years ago or a 1,000 years from now.

You are here today.

Not in a different galaxy or even a different town.

Who else is here today?

What do you think that means?

Today is the only day.

Is it marvelous in your eyes?

We are here. For a moment.

Will you rejoice and be glad with me?

* 1 / 100,000,000,000 = 1e-11

** Dunbar’s Number: Group Size and Brain Physiology in Humans

*** 150 / 100,000,000,000 = 1.5e-9

Bound to freedom…

It’s up to me I’m as free as I claim to be!
Claims one as chained himself to a tree.

Be free as a deer and safely under steer my overseer!
Wearies priest and atheist whose closest to god is fear.

A salty sailor answered me best,
Freedom is what do you guess?

One chain deep and one thread high,
Your anchor in the veil your Star in the sky.

If it’s freedom you desire
Bind your self to her
Everywhere you go
There you are

A tiny snail brain…

I was exceedingly irresponsible on Wednesday.

I thought I might be turning into a bum.

“…if I keep this up, I won’t have a place to lay my head.”

It’s okay though, I snapped out of it.

Here’s what happened…

Work was stacking up, a real tower of babbling and beeping and buzzing.

Typical Wednesday morning for important people who do important stuff.

Something called me outside for a minute before diving in.

Then I just laid on the lawn and counted clouds.

For hours.

Horrendous, I know. And it gets worse.

I let the baby eat a dandelion and climb on my head and play with a piece of green hose so now he probably thinks playing with snakes is totally fine.

And I did nothing, still.

The dog snored.

The sun shined.

The chimes chimed.

We watched a snail labor for two hours over the fresh cut grass.

He was doing about 12 inches per hour, top speed. Working very hard.

Then our Rock Island Red named Julia came along and ate him.

Snails only live a few weeks, you know.

Even where rusty-feathered chickens aren’t.

Still, something was super important to this silly snail.

Something other than drinking today’s bluest sky and occasionally watering the greenest grass with my eyes.

His imagined destination (probably not a chicken gullet) must have been important indeed, for him to be striving so certainly for most of his short snail life.

Thank God I have a big man brain and not a tiny snail brain.

Everyone knows you gotta have a sense of urgency to get anywhere in life.

Anyway, I’m back to work on my tower now so it’s all good.

It’s a very important tower and lots of people are counting on me I think.

“Hey, how do you know the snail was a ‘he’?”
Good question.
Mostly a guess.
When it comes to work, women seem to know better.
But you already knew that, didn’t you?  =)

Just plain loco…

Casual like a hand on your hip their right hands rested on their shiny Colts.

Surrounding the camp they squeezed in and the fire played shadows behind.

An old man with paint on his face just sat there.  Was he asleep?

“Come on in boys. Coffee’s on.”

Their eyebrows played catch with question marks.

Bacon curling in a pan tasted his nose and the first boy was off his horse.

Boy Two shrugged and put leather on the ground.

“Where y’all headed?”

“We’re headed west to find…”

“Just passin’ through.” The third one cut in and daggered Boy One with his eyes.

“Thanks for sharing sups and your coffee.”

“Where do you come from, sir?”

The old man produced a few sticks from under his robe and fed the embers.

“I was born under this sky.”

They tossed more eyebrows.

“We’re headed west to find places of our own.” The first boy said.

He ducked as a mesquite bean flew for his head.

“Your friend is wise.” The old man said to Boy One.
“What you don’t speak about can’t hurt you.”

“Your friend is also wise.” The old man said to Boy Three.
“What you don’t speak about can’t help you.”

“Yeah that’s right! So we’re headed west to find places of our own. Have you ever had a place of your own? We all have different ideas about what makes a good place. I think a place should have a nice lake and a meadow. He thinks a hill for the house is most important and Tight Lips over there won’t say what he thinks, believe it or not.”

“So have you… have you ever had a place of your own?” The second one said.

The old man’s eyes went bluer as a mist rolled in.

“I mean, a lake just makes sense. And good grass for the beeves. An then there’s the view…”

All the crickets and a coyote wearing a coat of moonlight wondered how the rambling boy managed to speak without breaks for breathing.

“What do you think, sir?” The third one said.

More sticks.

“You sure you want to know what I think?”

Nodding.

“Truly, all you need is a spring.”

Eyebrows.

“A spring with living water. You can go the distance there.”

“Ha! Come on, I mean springs are great, yeah, but for all the other stuff everybody likes different things, right? You got to pick a place that really fits you.”

“Times change. People change. Even land changes. Pick a place where the water goes deep and you’ll laugh through the dry spells.

The moon-coated coyote filled up the silence, for a while.

“I’ve passed a few places with springs, I know they weren’t right. How do
I know when I find the right one?” Boy Two said.

“The Great Spirit will tell you. She will still everything.” His eyes were closed again.

The first boy touched his temple and twirled his finger.

“Yes, I am crazy.” The old man said without opening his eyes.

“Crazy enough to have found my own place.
“Crazy enough to be happy, even.
“Crazy enough to be loving life to death.”

Then he tested the boys with his gaze.

“Are you crazy enough?”

Who drives you?

Robert H. Cantley.

He is a great grandfather.

She drove north every young summer to visit him and the woman with him.

He’s like the dad she didn’t have because somebody ran a red light.

They shared homemade dinners and wine and would wind miles of stories at the stove every night.

They moved their lives over for that bright-eyed girl.

They believed in seeds and a harvest they wouldn’t live to see.

Sun up, top down he drove a 1953 Chevy Corvette, baby blue, shiny and cool.

He sold it with light in his heart when the heavy bubble burst.

He rolled right over the worst months in a 1994 pickup painted like raw milk.

He found the 4×4 far better for first-time-fishing in the mountains with great-grandkids and when they weren’t looking the lake shiny and cool would fill his eyes bouldered and blue and make him cry like a baby.

“He drives me crazy.”  His wife will say.

He won’t argue with his lady. And he never says why.

He just makes music with his eyes.

“He loves like heaven does.”

He’s a stake driven in the ground his family goes around.

The bright-eyed girl gave his name, to her first boy.

They sent her boy to pick up his old fashioned Ford, last year.

Single cab stick shift saddle blankets on the seats.

Pneumonia hit him in the chest like a cement truck.

Death is one helluva red light.

So I sit in his seat and drive.

Did you know Randy Travis wrote a song about my great-grandfather?

Your mission…

Everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head.
Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are.
We build ourselves out of that story.
– Patrick the Rothfuss

What story do you tell yourself?

It must be a good one… 🙂

Our world needs a good story.

Keep telling it, would you?

Sophia says…

The world would be fine if you never existed. Don’t sweat it.
The world will never be the same because you exist. Sweat blood.

Nothing we do changes anything in the end.
What we do is all that matters in the end.

All of this collapses to dust.
All of this sings for eternity.

Life’s greatest pain is in giving yourself to another.
Life’s greatest joy is in giving yourself to another.

If you commit you will probably lose everything.
If you don’t commit you will probably lose everything.

Losing isn’t everything.
Winning isn’t anything.

Being together is painful delight.
Being alone is delightful pain.

Death is a bitter pill in the end.
Death makes every day sweet.

You are born and then you die.
You live.

Someday I will…

A movie is a collection of unique photographs.

A film features 158,400 unique frames.

Have you ever wondered which frame is the most important one?

A silly question, I know.

The dark frame needs the light frame.

The waiting one needs the coming one.

The trembling one needs the holding one.

Every frame is the best one.

Perfectly placed in time.

Telling a story.

A life is a collection of unique moments.

You are perfectly placed in time.

This moment needs you.

The Story needs you.

Bloody letters…

An instrument pregnant with the fate of the world…

That’s how Jefferson described the Declaration of Independence.

The pen is mightier than the sword, but the sword spills the blood that flows from the pen.

Mr. Jefferson always kept his pen sharp and his inkwell filled with blood.

In 1826, on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration, Thomas Jefferson graduated from life school.

10 days earlier, on June 26th, he penned the last letter of his life.

His body failing, he declined an invitation to attend the Independence Day celebration, and gave these words…

“After half a century of experience and prosperity, our fellow citizens continue to approve the choice we made.

May it be to the world, what I believe it will be … the signal of arousing men to burst the chains … and to assume the blessings and security of self-government.

All eyes are opened, or opening, to the rights of man. …For ourselves, let the annual return of this day forever refresh our recollections of these rights, and an undiminished devotion to them.”

 

You have been given the blessing and security of self-government.

Everyday you wield the pen of choice to scribe your lifestory into the scroll of time.

Remember, the freedom that fills your pen was purchased at death’s door.

What will the letter of your life say?

Silly habits…

Have you ever watched a candle burn?

Smaller than a cigarette and spiraled with pink or blue, birthday candles are my favorite.

Poked into snow white frosting and crowned with an orange flame.

We serenade the drops oozing down the stem, molten paraffin usually splashing onto the sweet plaster before the last “…to you.”

Most icing tastes waxy because we have this silly habit of melting wax on it before we eat it…

Larger than a cigar and gently white, fancy dinner candles are also nice.

Mated with a polished silver holder, rising eight inches over the table cloth the wick holds a tiny sun while evening, food and conversation revolve.

Pressing its orange glow into inky space the yellow outer flame dances with the night.

Dark becomes light by traveling an imperceptible transition to the center.

Burning white and clear at the same time, at the center.

Pure and still. Bright and invisible.

Here’s another thought full of wonderment…

The Center is a point. You can miss it in every direction.

Mr. Frost put it this way…

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.

I’m guessing he spent some time staring at candles.

What if logic doesn’t work?

Some folks like to sing and dance, “Perception is reality!”

Others, often less musical, say, “Hey Flowers, facts don’t care about your feelings.  Reality is reality.”

Who has it right?

The answer might be in your refrigerator…

When you pop open the door, a light blinks on.

Actuated by a mechanical switch, the bulb that brightens your butter is only bright when the door is open.

Right?

Is your lettuce lamp on or off right now?

Sometimes switches break.  If your fridge flood was lit when the door was sealed, how would you know?

We need to crack the door to see if the beam is burning or black.

Swinging the door moves the switch, which may bump the light, on or off.

We can’t check without changing things.

This is what science people like to call the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle.

(Awesome name, btw. It sounds way better than saying “we have no idea what’s going on.”)

Best we can tell, the very act of measuring a physical reality causes that reality to change.

And by “we” I mean this cool guy at MIT.

Professor Adams uses just a few boxes and four simple experiments to make his point.

The results?

Logic cracks like a Stone Table…

Following “the rules?” Apparently, Quantum Mechanics didn’t get the memo…

Electrons are doing everything except what they’re supposed to do.

Protons are everywhere except where they’re supposed to be.

Everything is anything – until we try to define it. Then things becomes relatively real.

i.e. A thing defines itself relative to the way we approached it.

I call it the Theory of Specific Relativity…

Right now, if you’re like me, your brain is white-knuckling the lap bar on this roller coaster of thought.

Some of you, brighter than me, have always known this.

Only a brightly burning heart can know something this big…

“Your eye is a lamp that provides light for your being.  When your eye is good, you are filled with light.  But when your eye is bad, your whole being is filled with darkness.”

The way we look at something changes what a thing is, in a way.

Phew, the ride’s almost over.  We’re nearly back to where we started…

Perception or Fact?
Subjective or Objective?
Color or B&W?
Music or Math?
Heart or Mind?

Which one defines “reality?”

The way you ask the question might change the way you are answered.

A bad day at work…

The large enemy force (over 20,000) continued to march across rural Australia.

Striking at the local economy, they decimated acres of crops and farmland.

The locals demanded a national military response.

In early November, 1932, the Royal Australian Army launched a counter-attack.

Deploying artillery and machine gun units to the area, the RAA prepared troops to drive out the rebel faction.

During one early skirmish, an enemy force of 1,000 marched into an ambush of Australian machine guns.

But the guns jammed and only 12 enemy combatants were killed, the rest escaping on foot.

After consecutive battles proved just as disappointing, ornithologist Dominic Serventy provided this commentary…

“The enemy command had evidently ordered guerrilla tactics, and its unwieldy army soon split up into innumerable small units that made use of the military equipment uneconomic. A crestfallen Australian field force therefore withdrew from the combat area after about a month.”

Major Meredith, commander of the RAA 7th Heavy Battery, had this to say during his retreat…

“If we had a military division with the bullet-carrying capacity of these birds it would face any army in the world… They can face machine guns with the invulnerability of tanks.”

The Royal Australian Army had lost The Great Emu War.

That’s right. This formidable enemy force? FLIGHTLESS BIRDS.

Whenever I’m having a bad day, it helps to remember that Australia lost a war with some emus.

Leave it as a sign…

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
By Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion – put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Thank You…

1. Choice – this means being free, and being responsible. Thank You for giving me choice.

2. Opportunity – this gives me something to do, to work on, to accomplish. Thank You for giving me opportunity.

3. Today – this is time to work and play, new each morning. Thank You for giving me today.

4. All Creation – this is the reality, the host of natural law, the rules and the playing field.  Thank You for giving me creation.

5. Purpose – this is the drive, the reason and the knowing, where fulfillment comes from.  Thank You for my purpose.

6. Family – this is support, knowledge and experience, where love is learned. Thank You for my family.

7. Wisdom – this is guidance, the understanding that brings joy. Thank You for wisdom.

8. Thought – this is the tool for creation, for development and application. Thank You for my mind.

9. Hope – this is renewed connection, a force of inspiration. Thank You for hope.

10. Triumph – this is the ultimate win, life over death, good over evil, light over dark. Thank You for triumph.