Bad Air

Open the window. Let the wind caress. Nothin' new beneath this sun. It just feels that way. My history being written as we speak. Judgements on reality, here in the guilded cage. Rage cloaked in the laws of the land. Living in the universal dream, the underlying theme- fear. Emotion the guiding light. Excommunicate that judge. Right to life. Cable news needing life support. Choose a victim of cruel fate. Poster child of the helpless. Leave nothing to chance. Better to give than to receive. Open the window, let the bad air out. Eating pizza, they call for the death of those who serve... them.

In the law, you seek Me. But I am right here. Flesh. Hidden. Ain't this a smile? Outcast. On the margin. Within. Death. Life. Do you know? Free. Holding the log. Covered in ashes. Don't touch. Spit on my eyes that I might see.

Blind wind. Elusive. Crackle with life. Sublime. Shatters illusions of integrity. Hermes beckons.

The sound of pea-sized hail striking the metal roof top vents summons a look out the front window. Sure enough hail. Coming down in such volume that within seconds the yard and street are covered in white. Beautiful. Then, without warning, a yellow explosive flash explodes in our yard. Right in front of us. A loud bang accompanies. What just happened? DId a lightening bolt just touch down mere feet in front of me? Nature's gig. Strangely calming. Humbling.

Love is in the air.

Belly quiet

Jona in the belly waiting to be spewed. Jesus in the belly waiting for resurection. The piece of night that is peace. Rest. Not frantic. Feeding tube gone. Poised for an entrance. Into that which is unsure, but soon to be familiar. A part of the cloud of witnesses. Cheering from reality. From the gift of faith. From the gift of life. From love. From love. From love.

Violence is as violence doEs

It could happen anywhere. Violence is a major part of our history and a major part of our present. Denial of our wish to forget, it speeps from our hidden wound. Daily. Violence is a way of the universe. It's as much a part of life as birth. The cross. Violent. Forsaken. Alone. Blood mixed with water. Life in anguish.
Nobody saw the signs. Maybe we are not supposed to. On this side. Intelligent anger. Rage. Not seen. Passed over. Love there too. No?
Now silence. Death had seemed so distant. Other worldly. Now demanding attention. An embrace. Care. What more can you do to me?

Please don't forget me.

Old Playground

No refs. No blood, no foul. Cheating no option. Complaining didn't help much. Except to increase your likelihood of not being around to play next time. Wheels of justice spun on gamesmanship. No lawsuits allowed. We enjoyed the game. No pads. Torn shirts. Makeshift field. Drinks afterward. Fries and a malt. The world right here. The crowd goes wild ...

Vibes

Sun down. Mild wind out of the west. Trees regaining some of their color and I am feeling a little better after that pink shooter. Angel of death, impatient for his hero's birthday, leaves his gift. Short career. Lasting results. Stunned. Protective. Healthy. Saddened. Elders look to heal. To burn and pass the pipe. Maintain life. Keep on giving. Full moon. Reflected light. Look how far it travels to paint the sky.

What resonates with your soul? Scary darkness eased by the sight of lights up ahead? Deeper in darkness and closer to the light. Conflicting reports all day long from the fair and balanced. From the ones you can trust. All of this get filtered through that which resonates. Connection on a soul level. The stuff flying off the fan will stick to something. Concrete in the face takes your breath away (along with your teeth). Struck. Defined. Free. Purpose. Grace. Under the mercy.

Why are we here? Because we're here. Roll the bones.

Vanilla swirls

Maybe it's the Rolaids, but what in the hell is going on? Steroids, Karl Rove and a dying woman's husbands wish for her and the revelation of Bush's sleep patterns. What will history say about the president on this one? Oh yes, and the banning of hearing about 4 hour erections and who to call on TV advertisements. Banning high school cheerleading? Okay, that wouldn't be so bad. What is this? Russia? I mean of all the stories to be given attention, we get these. The laugh meter is pegged. Pull the plug. Jackson's back. What a pain. Potty talk. Judgements. Power. Politics. (I need another Rolaid) David Copperfield is done proud.Wait till we see what has disappeared.

I don't want to forget that which the empire has perpetrated on the innocents in the name of freedom, in the names of those who passed on Sept.11 and on my name as an American citizen. Follow the money. See where it leads. To pathetic men, puffed up with greed.

Winds of ancients kiss my face, sometimes fiercely, mostly with conviction. Unwavering pulse. Under the mercy. Walls are falling. Fragments of light all around. Billions of shattered diamonds, scattered reflecting light, in the shadow of the sleeping lion. What's up your sleeve?

Honor Among Thiefs

"I don't want to talk about the past. Only the future. Let's be positive." "Why don't you turn in your teammates if they are shooting the juice? I do not understand." Our national pasttime. Field of dreams. Shoeless Joe. The Black Socks. The Negro leagues. The Long Ball. Records. Excitement. Build it and they will come. The US Congress has none of this.

How Ironic a congressman lecturing a professional baseball player on honor. On cheating. On a naked national stage. Performance. Competition. Teamwork. Tradition. Fame. Lots of money. Super Stars. More money. 7th inning stretch. Being called out 70% of the time will be enough to be considered for the hall of fame. Betting ... bad... Is there politics? Sure. Scapegoats? Sure. Purity? I hope not. Pure stuff has no substance. Dirt and crap help the strenghten the gold. I am looking forward to getting out to the ball field this year. Transcendent. Soul-full. The meeting of the past and the present in every moment.

Amalgamated with history the two sides did battle. Steeeee - rike one!

Un Healthy Friend

Often it seems I need to be unhealthy to see true health. My view of my body leaves much to the ghosts notion of health. In the midst of sickness I have little energy to deny the truth of my being. Sleep is a good thing. Letting the waves of nausea sweep through me is oddly cleansing. Both for body and soul. I see I am a part of creation. Too often I feel I somehow stand outside of it. Somehow the events that impact others have little to no impact on me. A fearless teenager at heart. Among my ghosts is one that whispers I need not suffer in this world. If you do, then failure is the reason it says. Thank God for the truth of illness.

Peers

Jurys are entrusted to the fate of bad people. And good people for that matter. Peers have opionions on each of us. But wait, don't make your opionion so impersonal. What is your opinion of the people involved in the high profile cases in the world today? Where does the glove fit in your opinion?

Our history of hangings and lynchings, vigilante justice continues to today. Money is the smoke screen to make it seem the system is working. Maybe the system is working and that is the problem. Do you want to be judged by a system? Set free by a system? Live by the system? Die by a system? Who is innocent? Who is guilty? Impersonal is the intimacy of the system. "Just the facts" may be more than a cliche'. Reasonable doubt is as valuable as predicting tomorrows weather.

Those who convict must throw the first stone. It's personal now, but does it guarantee only the guilty die? Or that the guilty go free? Believe me I want to line up and cast a few at Nancy Grace. But that is beside the point. Or is it? Amateur humans spreading their wisdom like salt on snails. Burn baby burn. Abe Lincoln once turned to somebody and said, "Do you ever find yourself talking with the dead?

Un Awares

Running from himself and leaving a path of broken hearts and exploding memories he saw himself as dead. Look at my hopeless eyes. I want normal back. Is that really me on the TV? I just want some pancakes. A shower. DO you see me? Do I see you? Do I see your pain? Your world? Your hope? Here, take some of mine. Eyes meet mine and sees my soul. Comfort. Resolve. Sorrow for my actions. The scar will remain deep. I refuse to be comforted. An angel visited me. I am a man. Of sorrows.

Middle Aged Hairy

You know that hairy guy that hangs out on the bottom of the spring, covered in mud? The guy that steals your dog? The one that redeems your male-ness? Answers to prayer almost always are in ways that I did not expect. Maybe Jesus was surprised the hairy guy from the wilderness was the one who would baptise him. Ever see a hairy guy in a muscle man competition? Anyway, got some clarity today. Thanks Mr. Bly. Thanks IJ. Or Harry. Or, whatever your name is. I took the key a while back and didn't realize it. Now I can be more aware of trying to put it back. My hair has something to do with it.

View Overhead

Police activity following the shooting of two fellow officers, a judge and court reporter in and around a court house seemed frantic. Except for the fact it took place in an American city, it did resemble so many scenes in Iraq, Iran and other un-democratic countries shown on the TV these past many months. Where chaos is ruled the flow. Frantic crime scene participants mixed with life as normal one block away. Uneffected living sharing the same air with the crushed, the breathless. The view over head is sanitary. Repetitive. Speculative.

Yesterday it was pajamas.

Technical advances. Economics. Soul. Self preservation. Arch-enemies. Dirty faced angels doin' their best. Free will. Living wills. Bird in flight. high pressure system over the west. Parched.

He is running a fever. Has an unproductive cough. Why did we let her stay here with similar symptoms? Won't happen to me. Besides, they are family. Now the innocent suffers. Maybe this will help his body to fight off illness for the remainder of his life, What a crazy system. The flowers look beautiful. The sunset breath-taking. The truck starts. We feel safer on the road up here. The doctor will give us wisdom. Hopefully I will live. My son needs healing. And that is mostly what is on my mind. Frantic between the ears. But you would never know it, looking from over head.

Pretend

It could mean to lay claim to. I think most often it is meant as a false front, a false image to deceive. For good or ill. Or both. I think that I have layed claim to my false image. Not so much a poser as a surrender to myself. Maybe it was the vows, however suttle. Temporary island from the punishment of others vows. Free will is quite difficult without wisdom. Wisdom doesn't feed self. What a bind. No cure, only care. Giving space. Holy space. In that hole in your heart. Everybody's got one.
Few kick at the darkness to let the light in.

My ship isn't coming and I cannot pretend.

Part 1 mentors

A mind is a good thing. Memory another. A leaking bag is yet another. I write this now because I will forget later. Not that what I have to say needs to be documented. Rather, us here in the boat need some thoughts from each other.

Clint Eastwood, Dirty HArry, justice, redemption - punk.. Bringing up the next steps through all that, Unforgiven, Outlaw Josie Wales, Bridges of Madison County, Mystic River, redemption, justice, mystery, punk. Okay so I don't know alot about Clint's movies. But those listed here have been on my mind the last few days. I just watched Mystic River for the first time last week. Disturbing?, yes. Tears?, saddness?. Yes. Lovable characters?. Yes. Raw?. Yes. Do I still cry thinking about the circumstances I was invited into? Yes. Did I enjoy the Dirty Harry Justice? You bet, punk. Is gravity even more heavy now in life with Mystic River? Yes. Worship in the midst of gut wrenching pain, even vicarious, still is redemptive. The reel as art is as powerful, is as loving, is as kind a pointing to the One who shows up as your life. A great mentor can point the way.

Feeling lucky? Punk

Get Real

I think reality gets you. To seek it is like seeking air to breathe. Maybe God's humor at work. Maybe not. I am holding on to the metaphor though. After all I tend towards a 4. But I digress. But it's my show so I can do what I like. Wow, that came from somewhere beyond the deep. This lens that I see you through has been tuned to gettn' by mode for so long and reality is unmoved. Tears of reality moved to kiss my lips. Embrace. Listen. Give space. Play the fields that compose spirituality.

I am looking at me. You are looking at you. We are looking at each other and don't know what to do. They call me the seeker, but I am being sought. Blind-ness a virtue. Great big world. Free will. Order. Chaos. God is Love? I am at the bottom of myself.
Reality.

Odd

I think one of the most odd functions of the human body is waste elimination. What was the thinking here? I guess it is not only humans that do it, but I am more familiar with my constitutional than that of animals.
Of all the personal hygene products concieved and marketed, I have never heard of one that would relieve us of relieving ourselves in the normal way. It seems like that would be a clear indicater of our superiority to animals.
Try that one on for size PETA.
Maybe Elvis was super human after all. At least he thought so.

Go Fish

Some people think life is not a dry run. I think it is. At least some of the time. I would hate to think I actually planned this. Not to say I am not lucky. It is just that I did not plan for my life to be this rich. Sure I complain daily. But I think that is mere habit at this point in time. The over head bin is making noise in this turbulence. I think that cologne I was waiting to wear on just the right night spilled. It doesn't smell like I remember it did.

Think about your life. What are you waiting for? Whiter teeth? (speel check says everything cool) I will make the phone call when I have rehearsed what I am going to say. That is prudent!
You need a five year plan. No, prudent is to think about retirement. Oh, so it's about retirement. I manage the cash so that I can have it when life begins the way I planned. Seat of the pants life is not what Jesus would do. Why do yoiu think he told his boys to go fish...

I meant to say speel by the way.

Worth

School age kids are ripe for friendship. Good and bad. hanging out. Enjoying life. Yea, I know life and the world is tragic, but somehow in the midst it is not. Kind of like grace. I experienced it in Tully's last night. Three girls about 10 years old were with each other as only kids can be. Heaven is like this? Hopefully. I could not hear what they were saying but spirit about them was heavenly.
I thought about my mom. She still has friends from that age in her life. Still in contact. Still make a point of seeing each other. What a great thing. Grace here if you catch my drift. Guys are not like that. We seem to need a common hobby or interest to get together. Even that doesn't mean much if the want to isn't there as well. Ghosts from our past. Maybe as a kid performance was key to your friendship quotient. Self esteem. Like life so fragile. Misunderstood. Not seen. Victim of the culture. Expendable.

I miss all of my friends. I miss the connection. Comrade. What a great word. When I was growing up it was maginalized as communist and that was bad. Evil in fact. I want to live with comrades.

DEath

Accomplishment is a virtue.No? A friend was told by his pastor a while back that humans were not meant to know so many people. Celebraties known world wide don't know their fans, and their fans don't know them. Or do they? I am no celebrity and not that many people know I exsist. Chad died at age 16 via a gunshot wound. Accidental. In his basement bedroom. His family and friends have carried on his memory with a restaurant called of all things "Chads Place". Or something like that. He was a leader of sorts. His family needed some way to grieve their loss. In death he is living in them.

It takes a village to create an idiot. The empire has one as a figure head and chief embarrassment. The blood on his hands is no accident. How do the many families and friends, in both lands grieve? How many are just forgotten? Jesus says you have arrived.

Technically Challenged

No not me. I meant to repeat that last post 2 x's. You are getting very sleepy.

Sleep on IT

As I preparing for sleep, it occurred to me how this spell checker function worked. It kept saying undefined and I knew I had not used that word in any post. At least not yet.You have already figured it out. But you don't have as much on your mind as I do.

Dug a few holes today. Hopefully the posts will contain the dirt and the trees will be happy. The rocks are crying out so it may be too late. We will plant a tree anyway. From what I remember, we are in good company. The guy's name will come to me this side/edge of sleep. Or not. I didn't know him anyway, so who cares?

I guess I do. It seems only the dead people are talking about how reality really is. Not just dead people, but they are always quoted. Will anyone ever quote me when I pass on. Will I know? Will I care? DO you care now?

Good night

Sleep on IT

As I preparing for sleep, it occurred to me how this spell checker function worked. It kept saying undefined and I knew I had not used that word in any post. At least not yet.You have already figured it out. But you don't have as much on your mind as I do.

Dug a few holes today. Hopefully the posts will contain the dirt and the trees will be happy. The rocks are crying out so it may be too late. We will plant a tree anyway. From what I remember, we are in good company. The guy's name will come to me this side/edge of sleep. Or not. I didn't know him anyway, so who cares?

I guess I do. It seems only the dead people are talking about how reality really is. Not just dead people, but they are always quoted. Will anyone ever quote me when I pass on. Will I know? Will I care? DO you care now?

Good night

Sleep on IT

As I preparing for sleep, it occurred to me how this spell checker function worked. It kept saying undefined and I knew I had not used that word in any post. At least not yet.You have already figured it out. But you don't have as much on your mind as I do.

Dug a few holes today. Hopefully the posts will contain the dirt and the trees will be happy. The rocks are crying out so it may be too late. We will plant a tree anyway. From what I remember, we are in good company. The guy's name will come to me this side/edge of sleep. Or not. I didn't know him anyway, so who cares?

I guess I do. It seems only the dead people are talking about how reality really is. Not just dead people, but they are always quoted. Will anyone ever quote me when I pass on. Will I know? Will I care? DO you care now?

Good night

Wandering aloud

Money has a grip on all of us. Simplicity is complex.Fragile life and hopes for a super human parent. Fact is humans are both super and frail at the same time. It's like comparing a dog as a pet with your own flesh and blood. One you want to sit and be accepting of your touch and the other requires so much time and confusion that fetching a bone sounds good to you.

Were we meant to live this way? It seems like an odd variation on the survival of the fittest. Those with the cash are fit. Those that can seem to manage cash are not. At least in their mind. Where is the wisdom? The empire seems to dictate worthiness based on a balance sheet. No; that seems too easy to blame a faceless foe. I will blame me. There, now the world in back in order. Now I can remain under my thumb. Suffocating. Look at those lilies grow. That wild flower sure is cruising. And the church's pulpit shares space with the empire's flag.

Simplicity seems too hard. I need to get ahead so that I can slow down to the simple mode. I worry about my career. I wonder if my life has been a mistake. A fight for my rights with the One who claims to love me. I think it is true, the notion that we construct the world for ourselves to operate in. Sure others impact it, but by in large we are living the world of our choosing. So my life has come to this? Yes. And the pain of been alone seems easier to handle, easier to manage than the hope of being admired among others. I miss the days of comradeship in sports and hobbies. Even the times of working together. Man I miss that. But my life is rich in other ways now too. In fact I am living as I hoped for during the days of comradeship but had yet to experience. So I sit here and type this random thought process to you. I would like to hear yours as well. But we are too busy to make time for one another. The dollar calls. The hip quotient will not allow such a meeting.

Nice world we have formed?

Fed up with patience

Found the check spelling feature. Now I can be seen as educated. Not stupid. It matters what you think of me. Worthiness is core to my being. You?

Black sheep boy, Martha Stewart, and high dollar exits from prison. Personally I like Tim Robbins exit the best. Subversive, to an island. Boat. Friend - trusted. Just a movie. From the mind of a guy named Steve. Not all bad. What's your story? Does a pin-up hide your escape?

Structure

Building a raised planter box in front. Will the bolts deteriorate when I go cheap? Spend for the stainless. No, could keep a few more dollars in the pocket. Ego wants it to lookk cool. Artist wants it to praise God. Hubris says I am better than you.

I go my own way. It is soul suffication to conform just to blend in. Even if no one sees, does a fallen tree crash in forest in silence?
Copper seats it is. Free backer board informs texture. It will emerge. Thanks Joan Mitchell.

Count the Money

A friend is starting the bankruptcy process today. The love of money is the root of evil. Power, control, ego charged humanity. Violence. He didn't seem to upset by the notion, but indeed he was. Said it will stop the calls for payment. A different kind of hound from heaven.

Panic with or without it. Is my car more hip than yours? What about my shoes. Oh, and that jacket. The haircut. You deserve to be cut off in your BMW. It's not road rage unjustified. He is the face of evil. Euphoric anger. What a rush.

Everything belongs. All matters. Just let me get feeling good about my financial state. God can only be trusted so far. It is in the green back I trust. The dollar of the empire. Much blood spilled for me to hand over that dollar for my coffee refill. Give me my 14 cents in change. Pennies are heavenly.

What am I good for? 50 bucks? Better than nothin'

Another day in Limbo

Listening to the wind blow. Sun is out and we still have not picked up our season ski passes. Pray for snow? The beating drums of change. I have to be careful here as there is no spell checker. Miss-spelled words could define me in your eyes. You are a graduate of graduate school? Yes. Maybe hope for you?

The dollar is what defines the person. What about the soul? What about amateur people? Is this great big world just a pastime for us? Living under the empire's ethic will twist definations. Seek the simple. Surrender to love. You will be crucified. Youi are in good company.
You are in good hands.

Truck surrender

We have a great mechanic. Honest. Reasonably priced. My truck has over 255,000 miles on it. I am cheap. I am not frugal. Part of me is defined by the money I make and the money I spend and the money I save. Tell me the story about eternity and how it is going to be. Wake up dead man.

So he just called and asked about the brakes. Rears are good. Front pads need replacing. I took it to him to replace the oil pan gasket. Messy job. In my youth I would have done it myself. Now, aching bones and a 2 year old to take care of I can't seem to justify the time for the task. Plus, I am losing confidence in my abilities.

What is the measure of a man?