Saturday, December 22, 2007

Under African Skies

This is the story of how we begin to remember
This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein
After the dream of falling and calling your name out
These are the roots of rhythm
And the roots of rhythm remain

Friday, December 21, 2007

Hope floats..

"My horoscope tells me I am going to have a really really great year"
Not knowing how to respond to that type of a statement I ask
"Oh, what kind of sign are you?"
Not that I know anything about zodiac signs.
"Well I'm a scorpio, but I like the Libra's horoscopes better, so I tend to read those"

Irene was named, yes after the song. She asked her mother why she named her after that stupid song and the mother responded "well I was named Bertha and my friends always called me Bert, so Irene is a step up"

I've never met Irene, until yesterday when she was walking across the safeway parking lot and my collegue screamed "IRENE!!!!!" and ran out to give her a hug.

She came into the store and introduced herself to me and told me the story above. At 70 +, she had the dark leather skin of someone who had spent way to much time in their youth in the sun. She was wearing a light pink, cotton stretch mini-skirt that made her legs stand out like step ladders arched (sorry if that metaphore doesn't work - it's really the most appropriate one I could think of). Wearing hiking boots too big for her feet, she had tissue papers stuffed around the sides of her ankles to make it more comfortable for walking. Her neon pink jacket with bright yellow accents went appropriately with the pink scarf, eyeshadow, and lipstick.

Hope and Miracles.

Obama already has patents on the phrase, but the audacity of hope is alive and well. We are clammouring, clinging, begging for hope - from chosing which horoscope to believe in, to leaning a little closer in when we hear someone say "once upon a time, a boy liked a girl, but they weren't married. Being the upright Jewish folk they were, the didn't have sex; but, this girl was impregnated by God.." And we cling to this, like Irene clings to this year being a year that she wont spend completely alone.

It's far easier to find hope for others, than in our own life. We are afraid, we are afraid of the crushing reality that hope often sinks us.

"She struck the angel Gabriel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child, but he'd been entrusted with a message to give her, and he gave it."

"The problem with Irene is she's just too needy" says Bruce - the Freedom 55 Financial salesman, who drives the caddy and parks it infront of our place every bloody morning. Yes, she is needy. People who have hope, often are.

When Linda (the collegue who went screaming out of the store) invited Irene for Christmas dinner (as I was sitting, swearing under my breath at a dated computer system) Irene looks at me and says "Can you believe the miracle?", stunned I look up, and she's bawling - the tears causing the different shades of pink to run into what resembles a a bright neon pallet. "All this time I was thinking to myself that I would be spending Christmas alone - and trying to say how I would be fine with that; that I wouldn't do something stupid like cry..."

"He told her what the child was to be named, and who he was to be, and something abot the mystery that was to come upon her. "You mustn't be afraid, Mary," he said."

"Well, Irene" says Linda, "God loves you too much to be alone on Christmas"; "That's what my Horoscope was saying" responds Irene. "And now, I have somewhere to go on Christmas, and I'm making a mess of myself crying."

Irene's shopping cart is now starting to roll outside the store and is comming awefully close to hitting caddy; but I chose not to say anything.

"As he said it, he only hoped she wouldn't notice that beneath the great golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl."

The audacity of hope, to me is about being able to be a walking contradiction. It's to be completely needy because you've just put yourself out there so many times - and kick yourself for it. But you have to do it again, because, well, we don't really have a choice. Fear fights against hope - Irene I think represented that for me yesterday. We (I) are afraid of a lot of things; and more than most, I am afraid to have hope.

And yet waking up this morning, with the lines of a Carolyn Arends song, that I've only heard once, repeating in my head - I think that this season it's hope that is ringing through me.

"do not be afraid, do not be afraid. The light has found it's way to you, so do not be afraid."

Thursday, December 20, 2007




S' MORES NATIVITY SET OF 4
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Sunday, December 16, 2007

If Christmas isn't enough

This year, if Christmas isn't enough - you don't have to worry.
If christmas isn't enough this year, just like it may or may not have been last year there are back ups.
If Christmas isn't enough, we'll still have the tree
If Christmas isn't enough, we can place love in a stocking, and hang it by a fire
If Christ, entering mankind, being born amongst man, in a stable surrounded by animals isn't enough, we have santa
If Angels proclaiming Glory to God in the Highest doesn't cut it, we have jingle bells

If the hope that all of Israel waited, for told about by prophets, repeated the stories, lived day by day in the temple to see, just seems a little foreign, we can eat chocolate advent calendars

This year, if the manger is too dirty, and the star isn't quite bright enough, Stanley Park provides Bright Nights.
This year, if comfort and joy are not upon you, family traditions, good food and amicable relations will suffice.

So God rest ye merry gentlemen, because this year, if Christmas isn't enough - it we have options.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Finding Forever

Origin
Is forever
well, well well,
we are back in the studio again
look at that
hey I don' need no cue cards
they got the engineers holdin up the cue cards
What that say
Oh they say, just talk, don't sing
son, i bet you and I feel like you and I've been here forever
30 years old red eyes,
beholding red eyes
I see my world's tears
Yeah, origin is forever
every peak will have 2 values
hopeful eyes in the comfort
of true protection and admiration of the chime
that's forever
forever is to strive
a place of endearment
forever is what I leave
my I-self contribution
Damn, what I gon' leave?
Ok...
I leave my one and only grain of spiritual sand
to universal scales of humanity, all humanity
forever is finding a solution to a solution
tsunamis, hurricanes,
following the trails of the African slave ships
war, war, and more war
Floods, Columbine, Global Warming, Earthquakes
Another somebody done me wrong, son
Virginia Tech, is not an, "Oh, What the heck."
we're still, did you place your one grain
of spiritual sand forever?
confusion need a solution
Blend and stir, stir and blend
the part of humanity; sift the ingredients
of acknowledgment, apology, amendment, atone
we gonna work with the four A's here
forever part
Common good is forever
God's memory is forever

--Common's Father--

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Cause I'm a joker...im a toker

I looked out across
The river today
Saw a city in the fog
And an old church tower
Where the seagulls play
Saw the sad shire horses
Walking home in the sodium light
two priests on the ferry
October geese on a cold winter's night

In a world well before the one that I know, people of power and status had before them wise counsel, strong leaders and reassuring voices. Reasurance that the course of action the king was on was "right", wise counsel to softly direct the king, and strong leaders to carry out his vision. They also had within their midst the one who would phrase wisdom as foolishness,
The role of the Joker, despite what Disney would have you believe was not one to juggle, or do illusions. They did not come up with punch lines to jokes unfinished nor would they entertain at a party.

They were there to make the unnacceptable, acceptable. The only voice allowed to critisize the king was the joker. In his foolishness he could bring to light what would otherwise go unsaid. If the comment was ill recieved - well he was just a joker. If the advice was heeded, the king could take claim to the idea as if it were his own, spare the kingdom, get the girl - whatever he pleased.

He is in many ways the prophetic riddler - trying to discern amongst the voice of the yes-men the difficult path to take. The art of delivering truth died in a large manner, I believe with the Joker. In the tyranny of the literal, we have done away with the creative challenge to truth. "Look upon my words, ye Mighty and despair" has resulted in a silencing of the Jokers, the artists, and most importantly, the prophets.

"What is they want from the man that they didn't get from the work? What do the expect? What is there left when he's done with his work, what's any artist but the dregs of his work, the human shambles that follows it around"

How do we go about engaging a culture, with a medium (arguably voice and text) that no longer engages a culture. We just don't "get" prophesy anymore. So when an 80 year old man can sit in the living room of the wife of a roofer and comfortably prophesy over the room of 29 adults and children- I consider myself to be witnessing a Joker in true form. He has no pretenses - infact puts out the disclaimer that if his words do not resonate with you - drive over the tape with your car on the way out. And it shouldn't be any different. God's language is not of ours - and yet he has used our voices to speak it. Through this, I was able to see the divine lark of God's relationship with his creation.
----

None of the minor prophets
knew that he was minor, of course. Habakkuk, I imagine,
thought that his visions earned him
standing as Ezekiel's peer, if not indeed Elijah's.
Then there was Obadiah,
who could be forgiven if he thought he might be a Moses.
How they would be remembered
Providence concealed from them all, though they could see the future.

Maybe it doesn't matter.
If you're on a mission from God, sent to rebuke a city
or to redeem a nation,
where by canon-makers you're ranked may be inconsequential.
Nor is the voice within you
any less authentic for not having a distant echo.
Seers of the world, be heartened.
Even minor prophets can have genuine revelations.


from Parallel Lives, by Michael Lind
Heard November 9 2007 on Garrison Keillor's "The Writer's Almanac"

Sunday, November 11, 2007

This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

George Bernard Shaw

Saturday, November 10, 2007

A Prayer for Peace

What we need now is bread,
soft dough to dig
fingers in, to knuckle and
pinch, pummel and punch
down. Like the grass
when crushed under foot
springing back,
it will not cry out or
die like daughters
and sons.
If we must raise our
fists, let us
plunge them in the body
of yeast and wheat.
Bread is not flesh.
Our hands will come
clean if we rise like
acre upon acre of shining
grain. Let us be sun-
ripe and light
like the crusty
loaves. Let us break
bread.

\

Terry Song
55 years old


Terry Song lives in Columbia, Missouri and teaches creative writing, literature, and women's studies at Stephens College. She is author of This Is My Body (West End Press).

Thursday, November 8, 2007

A Mother Writes to Laura Bush, Who Suffers

On the Today Show, April 25, 2007 -
Ann Curry to Laura Bush, about Iraq:
Do you know that the American people are suffering …. ?
Laura Bush:
Oh, I know that very much, and, believe me, no one suffers more than their president and I do when we watch this.

Dear Mrs. Bush, dear Laura,

Do you mind if I call you Laura?
We're both women after all, mothers,
Texans. We speak the same language,
share the same mother tongue.

Do you know that the people are suffering?

I was ironing in the morning quiet when
I saw your interview, ironing the shirt
of my youngest, the shirt he loves best
because it is like his older brother's,
the brother who will not be coming home,
the brother who died in Iraq.

No one suffers more than their president and I do.

I wished I could dismantle the box
around you, until you were sitting here
in my kitchen as I iron, just the two of us,
talking women's talk.
I would tell you my heart.
How it is broken wide open now,
how anything, everything
-the smallest gesture, a word, the sorrow etched forever on my husband's handsome face-
is my son.
I would tell you how tears
have become speech, indistinguishable
from any other speech, a river.

And because it would be just us,
you and I, here in my quiet kitchen,
chances are I'd forget I was ironing,
staring straight ahead as I spoke into morning.
I wonder if you'd notice, the iron
burning through the shirt,
the space
where whole cloth had been,
the smoke rising.

No one suffers more.

Believe me.



Robin Turner

Robin Turner, 50, lives near Dallas, Texas.
www.poetsagainstthewar.org

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Velocity

"To be able to regulate "velocity," both our desired speed and the pace of accelaration is undobutedly a useful skill. One of the signs of discernment and wisdom in this area is the ability to know when to move forward and when to stand still. Aquiring this skill requires clarity of purpose and some moments of quiet reflection. For many people, the busyness creates a sense of motion without necessarily having any real sense of direction. Even though the people are working hard, they are moving further away from any form of life and career satisfaction. Activity without focus creates an imbalance and does not contribute to our overall well-being." [Norm Amundson - Physics of Living]

There are many times when I envy the skilled, driven and [excuse me while I puke] "called" individual. The doctors, engineers, and mechanics of the world. With clarity, and purpose they seek out their education, plunk into their career and emerge from it 30 some odd years later, a satisfied individual. Sure there are some bumps along the way, but this, this "whatever" can be enough of a pull to by and large keep them on the "straight and narrow"

There are many who do not set up any parameters for regulating velocity in their life. They accept it for what it is - and tend to respond to things that throw their velocity off by introducing their head to the sand. This bear down and give 'er framework is really the reality of most indivuduals - whether "called" to a career or not. I would argue it is in fact more common amonst the "called" and even most amonst the "called christian" than the 'non.' Excuse the broad strokes.

"Activity without focus creates an imalance and does not contribute to our overal well-being" - it seems to plague many christians. Zeal without foresight, or rather zeal without insight is easy; I guess it's zealously ignorant. And so our lives tend to be articulated by much activity with little focus. We are called, committed and guilted into just about everything with zeal and enthusiasm - but our parameters for creating a healthy vocational or even just life velocity are simply non-existant. So we're busy busy busy for the kingdom with little focus - and yet wonder why we burn out (velocity overload).

There are many ways to regulate velocity, people have made millions selling formulas for the right life- but ultimately, as Christians we are not called to the "right life" neither are we even called to a perfect velocity. We are however, called to live in response to what the spirit is doing, saying leading etc. And while most of the times I have no idea what's going on up there in the sky (I keep thinking their just doing some internal housecleaning), I can promise that much of this deafness comes from a velocity that does not allow for a life of response. As motion is confused with intention, production with purpose it becomes increasingly difficult to slow down, and listen.


"I can't find the joy within my soul, it's just sadness takin hold. I wanna come in from the cold, and make myself renewed again. It takes strength to live this way, the same old madness everyday, I want to kick these blues away, I want to learn to live again. All the fires of destruction are still burning in my dreams. There's no water that can wash away this longing to come clean..."

Friday, October 19, 2007

Achieving Holiness

“I can only do what I see the Father doing” - Jesus
“Money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy you a half a pound of cocaine and a sixteen year old girl with legs so long you’ll need a step ladder to get up them - that may not be happiness, but it’s alright” – Randy Newman (the next best thing)

Our contemporary consumer value set reaches far and wide within and around our Christian language, culture, and most broadly life. We use phrases that, if not directly taken from our secular culture, are a pretty damn close carbon copy.

One such phrase that struck me during a conversation with a friend, was the simple “more of”; for example: “more of God”, “more holiness”, “I want more of your peace.” Now while there is nothing “wrong” with the more phrases, I have begun to realize just how at their heart, they are stunningly consumer value driven. No one in our current climate could argue that “more” is bad. Bigger, better, more, larger are all synonymous with greater. When we ask (for example) for “more holiness” it feels more like an all-you-can eat buffet, where holiness is the extra mashed potatoes we’re trying to fit on the side of our plate ‘o Godliness. And provided we don’t trip on our way back to the table, we can get “more holiness” in our life.

So we ask for more holiness in our lives, and we’ll try to squeeze it in; right beside “more God” and “more time with God.” And this creates one heck of a problem as we eat, not to be satisfied with what God wants, but rather out sample a bit of everything at the salad bar. While it’s not necessarily bad, it misses the point altogether as we struggle to figure out what expressions of these characteristics should be. Our expressions through time become learned and not sought, our balance becomes skewed – and before long, we find ourselves hopelessly overweight, and wondering how anyone can actually do this.

Our contemporary consumer value set has us walking up a ladder with no end – when I would argue that this sort of language creates a metaphor, that creates an attitude, that creates a motive that is ultimately hmm how do I say…unfulfilling.

What if the metaphor was shifted to something of asking to have the exact meal that we should have at that time? Calories, health, etc. to the wind – we simply ask for the right meal and stop going after the most “bang” for our buck.

What would worship look like if we spent more time worshiping who God is and not asking for more potatoes? What would prayer be like? Would we find the bible interesting?

I’ll slow down now – as I should get to bed.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Velocity

"To be able to regulate "velocity," both our desired speed and the pace of accelaration is undobutedly a useful skill. One of the signs of discernment and wisdom in this area is the ability to know when to move forward and when to stand still. Aquiring this skill requires clarity of purpose and some moments of quiet reflection. For many people, the busyness creates a sense of motion without necessarily having any real sense of direction. Even though the people are working hard, they are moving further away from any form of life and career satisfaction. Activity without focus creates an imbalance and does not contribute to our overall well-being." [Norm Amundson - Physics of Living]

There are many times when I envy the skilled, driven and [excuse me while I puke] "called" individual. The doctors, engineers, and mechanics of the world. With clarity, and purpose they seek out their education, plunk into their career and emerge from it 30 some odd years later, a satisfied individual. Sure there are some bumps along the way, but this, this "whatever" can be enough of a pull to by and large keep them on the "straight and narrow"

There are many who do not set up any parameters for regulating velocity in their life. They accept it for what it is - and tend to respond to things that throw their velocity off by introducing their head to the sand. This bear down and give 'er framework is really the reality of most indivuduals - whether "called" to a career or not. I would argue it is in fact more common amonst the "called" and even most amonst the "called christian" than the 'non.' Excuse the broad strokes.

"Activity without focus creates an imalance and does not contribute to our overal well-being" - it seems to plague many christians. Zeal without foresight, or rather zeal without insight is easy; I guess it's zealously ignorant. And so our lives tend to be articulated by much activity with little focus. We are called, committed and guilted into just about everything with zeal and enthusiasm - but our parameters for creating a healthy vocational or even just life velocity are simply non-existant. So we're busy busy busy for the kingdom with little focus - and yet wonder why we burn out (velocity overload).

There are many ways to regulate velocity, people have made millions selling formulas for the right life- but ultimately, as Christians we are not called to the "right life" neither are we even called to a perfect velocity. We are however, called to live in response to what the spirit is doing, saying leading etc. And while most of the times I have no idea what's going on up there in the sky (I keep thinking their just doing some internal housecleaning), I can promise that much of this deafness comes from a velocity that does not allow for a life of response. As motion is confused with intention, production with purpose it becomes increasingly difficult to slow down, and listen.


"I can't find the joy within my soul, it's just sadness takin hold. I wanna come in from the cold, and make myself renewed again. It takes strength to live this way, the same old madness everyday, I want to kick these blues away, I want to learn to live again. All the fires of destruction are still burning in my dreams. There's no water that can wash away this longing to come clean..."

Friday, October 5, 2007

Hot and Ready

There's a difference between being full and being satisfied Jeff.
Being full takes no skill at all. Anyone can be full - it's addictive, it's temporarily satisfying, it does the job. No one, when I talk to them at 50, says they intended to be this overweight. It just came about, from eating poorly over the years.
If our goal is not to be full, if our goal (stay with the food metaphore Jeff) is to be satisfied, to enjoy what we are producing; then how does that change our intentions? See because intentions are what lead us to Goals. Even if you don't have goals (because of your so called 'intuitive decision making'), what are your intentions when you eat?
We live in a time when for $5 you can have a medium pizza. $5 will FILL you up. You don't have to wait for it - just walk in and pay. What does that say about the quality of living?
"shoot"
I'm not trying to overwhelm you with metaphores, or even saying that your life is on a crash course (may or may not be). Eating well (metaphorically) can actually just start with understanding intentions - of course we will have to look at some suggested recipies, and ways of cooking at some point - but for now, just think of the intentions. The thing is however, not to sound too harsh, but, you actually need to do this. Otherwise, all the future talk of cooking, all of our discussions around leadership, church, god, friends, community - whatever - are useless unless we start with basic principles of nutrition.
----
and i close with a passage:

In this there is no measuring with time. A year doesn't matter; ten years are nothing. To be an artist means not to compute or count; it means to ripen as the tree, which does not force its sap, but stands unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not follow. It will come regardless. But it comes only to those who live as though eternity stretched before them, carefree, silent and endless. I learn it daily, learn it with many pains, for which I am grateful: Patience is all!


Rainer Maria Rilke

Monday, October 1, 2007

"Did you ever lie awake when you were a child listening to them talking down below? You couldn't understand what they were saying, but it was a noise that somehow comforted. So it is now with me. I am happy listening, saying nothing. The house is not on fire, there's no burglar lurking in the next room: I don't want to understand or believe. I would have to think if I believed. I don't want to think anymore. I can build you all the rabbit hutches you need without thought."

Friday, September 28, 2007

life.

"It's stunning isn't?"
"what"
"just how much respect we give to death"
"hmmm"
"we are so willing to take time out of our lives, to honour the dead. Death can just consume so much of our time, and we really don't ever question it; but the interesting question is really how come we didn't make this time when they were living?"
"huh"
"no one ever questions asking for time off for a funeral, or just to honour the dead; that's a given" "but we really don't have that same time, respect, or priority for life." "isn't that right?"
"I guess so"
"it's just a cultural standard of relative priorities - we have chosen to take life as an expendable, infinite right, and death - wow, death is this thing that we get all up in arms about, shocked and saddened at the thought that somehow this life could end - but what were we doing with it anyways" "And then it takes a death to realize how quickly our agenda can be cleared, how everything becomes droppable, expendable, once someone dies" "and yet we never make that a priority when they are alive"
"yup"

Monday, September 24, 2007

You Finally Made Me Happy

I've said it to a few, that september is really the month where the medicine balls of commitment get chucked into the sky, and the great juggling game begins. I know I will drop atleast one of the balls - as I never had much hand eye co-ordination, but it's really a question of when, not if. Juggling is tiring, dropping is painful (they are heavy after all), and it's all a game of weighing relatives. Today, a man told me that he would not want to be in 50 years - because if I'm juggling this much now, can you imagine what it'll be like then (and I sit there holding back tears). I'm so damn tired of figuring it all out. My head is heavy from watching balls circle above me.


I'm done with hiding behind the guise of figuring out 'what God wants me to do' - we both know that's only legitimizing your own desires.
I want the river. I want what comes through and rips trees out from their 30 year old roots - tossing them like they were nothing
I want the river. I want what is red, and permanently stains all that existed before it.
I want the river. I want that which cannot be shapped by small boulders, I wan that which cracks rocks, and defies thousand year traditions.

That it would come and knock me off my feet. Knock this church, this social circle, this half assed concept of community - or rather this half assed attempt for us humans to run in circles trying to figure out what it means. We're too damn clever.

I want a dingy big enough that people could hop in, when they see the fun I'm having (this is obviously not at this moment, but once this so called river comes).

I want not to think of 'how to pray', which is really the christian way of spiritualizing our means of risk management (God, give me the wisdom to know how to phrase "I don't want to do this" in a way that will cause Susies heart to realize......)

I want to need only to be still. I want to watch as it comes, and to blow up my dingy and ride along - maybe with a softdrink or two to make the trip more enjoyable.

Because the long and short of it is - I don't know what I want.


unedited. don't shoot.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

words

Main Entry: clan·des·tine Pronunciation: klan-'des-t&n also -"tIn or -"tEn or 'klan-d&s-
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle French or Latin; Middle French clandestin, from Latin clandestinus, from clam secretly; akin to Latin celare to hide -- more at HELL
: marked by, held in, or conducted with secrecy : SURREPTITIOUS
synonym see SECRET
- clan·des·tine·ly adverb
- clan·des·tine·ness noun
- clan·des·tin·i·ty /"klan-d&-'sti-n&-tE, -des-'ti-/ noun

aka: rogers wireless

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Make Hay.

Talk of value added services, talk of competing on quality, and how a race to the bottom never benefits anyone, is great. It's what I surround myself with, it's how I make myself sleep at night whilst watching those bottom feeders grab up market share.
Today I realized that evolution is truly kind to the bottom feeders.
The problem with being a bottom feeder is that we get greedy - bottom feeders must be content to not be the rulers of the world, they must be content to be the sustainable second.
Rogers (to use a completely random example)does not play the bottom feeding game. They compete on value added - on saying 'don't come to us if you want the cheapest game in town.'
This is all fine, when the market is great. To be the 'classy cat' in a sea of dog fish is a nice card to play. In fact, arguably it is the only card to play in a time when life is good. Be the elite, be the value added, be the classy one. Don't run ads that even breathe the word price; show sexy men going down escalators with their phones working - claim reliablity, beautiful, rich and meaningful words.
Just make sure you keep a few staff who have the bottom feeding mentality around. Because you'll need it when the economy tanks (and it will) in a few short years. Until then, if your playing the classy game - play it for all it's worth. Make as much of it as you can but invest it so that you can transistion into a bottom feeding mentality that still has the class image. hmm easier talked about than typed.

This has applications far far far beyond business - personal debt payment, education, heck even spirituality. While you have time, while you have finances, while your life circumstances permit. I'm sounding like a tired motivational speaker as it can really be summed up in the cliched 'make hay while the sun shines'
wow. this is a lame post.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

The POB Moments and the death of SMB

"The Dragon will fall victim to a school of small fish in shallow water"
-Chinese Proverb

In Small Medium Businesses, the school of small fish are Pat on Back Moments.

POB (Pat on Back) will take out the dragon one nibble at at time. We all stand around a whiteboard, we all come up with a 1000 great ideas - we all pat ourselves on the back, and we all walk away.
Sure we have legitimate reasons to ignore the whiteboard of life - things, projects, being put on hold, on and on and on.
Here's my short (odd I know) advice for the day. If you can't follow through, don't start. Don't start the brainstorming, dont talk to me about vision, growth, future planning - just stop.
And if you cant follow through with tangible, measurable tests to see if it's worthwhile on and on. How we're going to track it, deadlines.
The ammount of grandious bullshite that goes on in the business world, almost comes on par with the church.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

One More Drink

"Praise God, who has many names - but the Devil has, many more, so with the love that my mother gave me, I'm gonna drop the devil to his knees "

Our conceptions of God could very well be the great antagonist in the tragic comedy that is our lives.

The most effective thing the devil can do, is pretend he is God. Convince people that he is the divine. The devil is known in the drug den, the devil is known in whoretown, capatilist city and any other image that our Fallowellian Disneyland has created. But by this stage, the 'christians' of our time have for the most part crossed off those attractions. We are able, by-and-large to recognize and advert our eyes when the binge bus comes down the lane.
So ever the clever cat, the devil has had to change strategy. And man is he clever as hell. It's perfect, it's military genious, it's devistatingly effective and yet tragically most will never recognize it. By pretending to be God - we don't really have to have much behaviour modification to serve. Me and the Devil walking hand in hand - I think is how the song goes. And again, tragically there are many times in my life when this is devistatingly real.

We start by chasing God, and it becomes about a chase, it becomes about a figuring out, it becomes something oh so subtly different, so quickly that a minor adjustment in course leads to a major adjustment in destination. A deceptively parallel universe, that ultimately becomes a lense by which our world is viewed. And it has become so organic, so innate in our lives, that most Christians (myself included) are completely unaware of it's effectiveness in our lives.

Ok so this is all very nice - but what does it all mean? We all know the devil is clever - whoopee.

We are so easily wooed, that to a large degree, we cannot understand that much of our notions around 'following God', "understanding our relationship with him", "theologically correct reasoning" and much of the other elements in a Christian life - are distractions. We get so caught up in this idea that we can actually 'understand our relationship' and that God is a concept to be grasped - that we spend most of this life chasing this eternal drum (maybe that's what Dante meant). It's like somewhere in God speaking, and our listening, God writing (bible) and our reading - something was lost in translation. And the only thing I can peg it to is the devil. Because let's face it - he's a pretty easy target.

I know if you follow this line of thought through to it's natural conclusion we will end up lying in a ditch, bottle empty shouting awkward obsenities relating to a general 'what's the point' type of attitude. This line of thought can be played out in many realms, but I'll start by exploring how I first really realized it - Dave Matthews.

The blog post is running on now (and they always said to keep it punchy)- but I want to close with an example. Here is a guy, with little involvement in our Disneyland of Churches, who has been able to at times point with such clairvoyance the relationship between man and God, God and God, man and man - that it has stunned me that no 'christian' artist can mimic.
I picked him because his song happened to be on - but there are so many of these guys who just have moments of "getting it" in ways that leave me wishing at times to be them.

Anyways, this is not a blog post to rag on Christian Arts (that deserves it's own), it's to say that part of the effects of the clouded universe; part of the devil that Christians have not recognized, is the part that makes our God out to be lame sauce. And because, I believe, that that devil exists in the contemporary christian scene - those on the "outside" realm - while they struggle with other very real things - do not seem to be influenced to that same degree.

Oh, oh deep water, black and cold like the night. I stand with arms wide open, I've run a twisted line. I'm a stranger in the eyes of the Maker.

I'm not going to make Dave out to be the spiritual guru of our time. This sex obsessed guitarist has a long way to go before I'll start taking too many notes from his book. But he represents I would say, a clarity on a relationship that our tragic drum chasing has prevented us from seeing. Completely caught up in something we don't even know were caught up in, Dave, and many other "non-christians" are blessed to stand outside the ring.

My body is bent and broken, by long and dangerous sleep. I can work the fields of Abraham, and turn my head away. I'm not a stranger, in the hands of the Maker.

Rise, river rise, from your sleep.

I've rambled.

Sunday, September 2, 2007

wavemaker.

"so is this night church thing dead?"

We are such victims of routine, such fearers of stagnancy - that a lapse in implied order can bring about not only a crippling sense of confusion - it can lead us to thinking we can control the waves, that we can keep the momentum up.

He alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea.

Waves. One of the few words that seemed to escape my mouth in a moment of confused prayer was waves. Feeling bold, I decided to pray give 'er a whirl and pray away - not really getting the meaning of what was comming out, and just hoping no one would ask for an explanation. Feeling strongly about this, I followed up into an email to the person with whom the prayer was directed. Half hoping they would provide me with some insight into my own words. Nope. And lying in a semi-uncoscious state this afternoon on my bed, again, waves waves waves.

The destructive beauty of a wave smashing against a rock, completely gone - holds strong metaphorical significance for me. Seeking out the streams, and finding those waves that we should ride out, and those waves which really have yet to even reach their size demands an attention that I lack. It requires a flexibility to move when the wave is going to smash - a reduction in pride to admit that what you thought was a wave, was really a ripple. A patience when the wave is building momentum well below the sea level (and you're wanting to jump wave) and a certain sense of strength, because more often than not - standing up to waves, avoiding them and even riding them takes everything out of you.

And as fighting the waves is both useless and exhausting, creating waves is equally as futile.

I can't say I know what I meant when I was praying for waves - I am reminded however that Jesus ultimately was the one who could fall asleep in a boat that was just getting hammered by them - and, at the right time - just tell them to stop.

Start your school, start your church. Start casting your vision and start deciding where to spend your time. But start noticing where the streams are - where the waves are. Where have they smashed in and poetically destroyed the houses - and where are those that should be ridden?

The sea will rise over Babylon; its roaring waves will cover her.

The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.

Monday, August 27, 2007

In the towel

At the start, before everything, at the very start - there needs to be love. Love doesn't have to come after understanding, love doesn't have to follow knowing, getting, grasping, likeing, wanting - any other verb- Love is the start.
And yet more often than not we bypass love to move on to those things that are easier. We move on to expressions of love rather than love, we hold on to emotional responses rather than love. Rationality, logic, understanding a 'desire' to 'help out' can all oddly enough be enemies of love - and yet for me, and I suspect for most of us, these things come easier than the root.
It's easier but ultimately not sustainable to love after any of these other things - I think at least.
Caring and 'getting along', initially pose as love's co-pilots - so it's rare when we have these two that we stop to question if we really can love one another. We think that these will steer us into love, but more often than not they just 'exist' in a blahze sort of manner - in a ditch like-stagnancy that does little more than allow us to float our dingy on.
We, as relational beings, crave this love. And it is phenomal the ammount of hurt we will cause to get it. It is this love that we need in a community context, this base level of love - not neccessarily understanding, just plain 'ol love; yet it is this love that we at times seem to do everything to avoid. We dodge in word, action, thought, mis-action, lies. In the course of two months, I have had a bit of an outsiders perspective in seeing a group of people dodge this love in truly original ways.
Much of our failings at this really cannot be solely pegged on 'us' per say. Everything wrong with creation does truly pull us from knowing this kind of love. Suspician, hurt, real tragedy, mis-understanding; the cards are not often stacked in our favour. We are almost "too big," too dramatic for having this responsibilty of love.
One of the mysterious elements to this pursuit is that; wrapping our heads around what it means to love, understanding how we show it etc. should not actually be our primary focus. The most challenging thing about this kind of love is that it is both passionate and patient - it cannot be self-driven and it cannot be bastardized by contrived expressions.
It is such a process of radical confidence in the source of such love, and such a rigorous (for me at least) reduction of anything else, that I think this kind of love is probably what part if not all of this life is all about.

Friday, August 24, 2007

Speaking of Awkward

I have no crutch except the desire to please everyone

The self preserving, selfishness of the human condition has been revealed recently to me in what I had thought was nothing more than a social oddity – that of the awkwardness.
It should have been so obvious – my intelligence, self –awareness, social currency – all completely mocked, blinded and bound up through this disease. I am as happy as the people I surround myself with – or so seems to be the myth that I often carry.
I will avoid at all cost the awkward situation. I will talk, I will lie, I will sing and I will run all to hope that the awkward turtle swims past me without causing ME harm. I am plauged with having extra sensitivity to such situations, the radar for me tends to be a warm feeling in my throat which works its way to the upper stomach. Yeah - it's bad.
So when the unavoidable awkwardness of this world decends, I'll take any self-centered port in the storm.

A man named Forest once blessed me as being an agitator for God, and cautioned me from being an agitator of the devil. I've typically linked that to my unique ability to send mis appropriated emails at late hours of the night. But now I think there is more to it.
I think part of what he meant by that is that awkwardness persevered, awkwardness recognized and pushed through, agitation that is listened to and dealt with can ultimately have the scent of God on it – as weird as that may sound. Awkwardness avoided, agitation brushed off can just socially smell. I know it true in my life and wont go so far to blanket the notion to all situations but let's face it, Jesus was potentially the most socially awkward person around (I bet it was awkward when his parents asked him how his day was and he told them he destroyed the temple..)

You'd be surprised at just how primal our adversions to those things which may cause us social harm are. Atleast in my life I am stunned to the depths that I can dig all in an effort of social self preservation.

I'll just leave that awkward comment with y'all -

Saturday, August 18, 2007

walking in memphis

"Yes, I know, I've talked with him, we prayed about it – it's alright"

The condition of Christians is caught up in a world where prayer has turned from process to purchase. Marketing masters have seeped our soul, and our Christian consumption has become satisfied with a commissioned based sales process. Prayer is no longer passionate patience, or a persistent petitioning – it is now the equivalent of using "words" to solve our problems, as sticks and stones break our bones.

To use the vernacular of my workplace – if you are dissatisfied with your current service you can call in to your provider and lodge a complaint. Depending on time of day etc. you may receive a few credits on your account (a few months free, new accessory) – but more often than not, you'll get some rookie who will tell you to suck a lemon.

Faced with this, you can do one of three things:

1) Hang up, call back and hope that you get a better 'agent' – odds are high with enough persistence, either your service will improve, or you'll forget that it was ever a problem.

2) Switch providers – it's easy enough, so long as you're not in a commitment.

3) Cancel service all together

Our reference for suffering is similar to mushy fruit at a produce stand, we expect customer satisfaction or we'll go
elsewhere. And in someway, this is how we have begun to pray.

This is not however a blog post to point out suffering extended – I am frightfully and thankfully aware that I cannot preach about those who wear the white robes of expired promises. Nor am I trying to address the need for patience, I'm not trying to solve the question of every 15 year old - "why does God take longer than a week to answer my prayer...?"

I can only write poorly on that character that I have come across a lot this summer: the concept that a whimsical prayer will make our Ying come back to our Yang. I'm not calling for a reduction in faith – if anything this summer has taught the opposite. I think it's a fleeting cry for an enlargement of what our concept of faith can be – sure it's in response to a frustration to the flippancy in which both I and those around me often approach our problems; but, I think it's something more than just that. To begin a partnership of faith in which prayer is no longer about tossing the marble and hearing it roll down the tin roof of reality – how that looks for me is different than you I'm sure. I guess it's (wow) expecting it to be tough, at least that's what I've felt in the past few weeks – that I expect prayer almost to be part of the battle, it's messy, complicated and not to be checked off the list when 'done.'

So there it is, no 12 point step for effective prayers, but just a realization I guess that I'm peering into a hole and I have no idea how far down the looking glass I really am going.  

 

 

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

devils and dust

I've got my finger on the trigger, and tonight faith just aint enough, when I look into your eyes, there's just devils and dust.

Sand and Spirit, Sand and Spirit. It's become increasingly difficult to tell one from the other and it seems like ultimately despite a world that wants clean divisions between the two - we are condemned to live in a fractured, yet not neatly split world. It's that space between knowing, and not just guessing, but really actually knowing that sand has blown off the rock, and spirits remain - and yet feeling the weight of ultimately what we really are - life blown dirt.

Now every woman and every man, they wanna take a righteous stand. Find the love that God wills and the faith that he commands. Got my finger on the trigger and tonight faith just aint enough. When I look inside my heart, it's just Devil's and dust.

Grammatically incorrect ramblings spill over as emotions pour into prayers into songs and into complicated actions. I am stuck in between this place of seeing a mirage, feeling a weight of deisre to reach it, and living in a dull, dirty reality. Every now and then God has given me an opportunity to see this rock without sand - but it makes this dusty city all the harder to bear.

It's not with a weighted spirit that I bear it, seeing him in the whirlwind seems to be part of my schtick. I can't say I know if I'm any good at it though - my hands covered in dirt and my spirit sometimes lacking.

Got God on my side, and I'm just trying to survive, but if what you do to survive kills the things you love, fears a powerful thing - turns your heart black you can trust. It will take a God filled song, fill it with devils and dust.


Monday, July 23, 2007

To the difficult

Again, while I know maybe 1 or 2 people are reading this, I would encourage you to tell you colleagues, co-workers, inmates, 'partners' to feel free to submit their work place poem. It can be mad, sad, funny, stupid, profane or prophetic....whatever --- I've started it because getting mad is both neccessary and let's face it a fact of our vocational life. How we deal with the anger and how long we hold on to it is up to us (yes, thank you, I've been watching Oprah). My poems right now often focus on anger - they are dumb, but they stop me from being angry at various things/people. So, if that works for you. DO IT - don't get mad - get poetic.

To the Difficult:
It is said that you can catch more flies with honey
But if you pour vinegar on them, you can kill a fly pretty easily 
Flies loves honey, and vinegar is only good on french fries
So how do you decide if someone is a fly or a fry?
In order to decide if one is a fly or one is a fry one must have a very keen eye
And a keen eye is hard to come by - I tell you no lie
So whether your dealing with a fly or a fry
And if you're trying to decide which condiment should apply
It is best to remember that with too much of one dressing
All insects, plants, food and animals will eventually die
And then you wil have no one to curse - as they will have all waved goodbye.


Wednesday, July 18, 2007

To the Internet....

Our website is troubled - oh is it ever. And I am stuck in between FTP protocols, server hosts, joomla software, godaddy and domain names. 
I encourage you, the anonymous internet lurker, rather than get mad when things go wrong, to get creative. Nothing is more satisfying than firing off a well written prose. Please do not hesitate, oh non existant community, to submit a poem of your own. The idea here is that this could be a collection of articulate subtle rages, or joys, or whatever. I know - i really am lame. so lame. so lame.
Without further ado - To the Internet:

If a website falls in cyberspace will it be Curt who notices?

If a domain goes down will GoDaddy rescue it?

Who is he who installs joomla in the sky?

Who is he who assigns FTP protocols to the delinquent few?

I’d like my domain to point to the world, and yet find myself caught in a web

My domain name is parked, and my zoneedit is dropping

I have laid my passwords to the alter of Isaac and my FTP settings to the Curt

Wont web traffic rain down on me?

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Ode to Chad

Chad, our supplier has problems with the truth sometimes. This first blog entry, on my brand spanking new blog is dedicated to him. Not sure what will come of this blog, it'll probably go the way of all blogs. But for now, let there be clutter in cyberspace.

Chad, Chad, Chad

Why are you so bad?

You fill our hopes with Samsung dreams

But leave us with very little means

It's not that you purposefully lie

But your empty promises make me want to cry

We cannot go on in this dizzying maze

But without a clear resolve I'm left in a Daze

To wonder why it is you have wasted your breath

And failed to deliver, despite swearing on your death

Chad, Chad, Chad

I can'€™t help but feel so sad

For it'€™s you who play us for fools

But it'€™s us who come out looking like tools

Chad, Chad, Chad

Why oh why are you so bad?