Never Never Land

Not much good happens so deep into the night, but I made a promise. I made a promise to a friend that I would write more. That I would try to make more sense of thoughts and musings and try to place them into words. Not a small task for my small brain but I believe the promise had something to do with a pinkie. From what I hear that is the most prestigious of promises, something that I do not wish to ever breach.

Despite the fact that it goes against my better judgement (which I was surprised to know I had any) to talk about that which is on my mind tonight I am going to do so any way. One thing that I seem to have always had in excess is an imagination. Something that a man named Mr. Rodgers told me was the greatest thing in the world and it could take me anywhere. You could call it naivety but I believed 100 percent a man who's first name I swear to this day is Mr. I also to this day still believe the man the same 100 percent as I did long or not so long ago. Although now the theology that has been instilled in me from the man named Mr has been proceeded by that of a street on sesame, a station for imagining, and most of all a never never land.

It is the never land that I wish to indulge further. It is a place that I visit often even in the extended years of my so called youth. I only feel like I look young. Which is part of the reason why my never never land knows my face so well. It is a place like none other. Where the young edify the old , and in turn the old turn young. I guess as you get older you forget how to ride a bike, play a superhero, run fast, and just do nothing without the worry of what you should be doing.

I know that upon writing this I have without a doubt caused some to react with thoughts of certain insanity. For those who so apply I have but only two rebuttals. If you think me insane for traveling to never land although you may be right I find you unbelievably dull and your tedious life bores me. Secondly if sanity is reached by never visiting the one place that has never changed since my youth then I am A O K with being insane.

Just Give it Some Time

Quite often I have written of matters of time. It seams time is one thing that has not been on my side. At least not yet. It seams time in and of itself is one of the only constants. The only thing in life that is guaranteed. Each day takes 24 hours, each hour takes 60 minutes, and each minute is slowly yet quickly pushed forward by a universal second. The time that goes by is inevitable. It is the same now as it has ever been. Have you ever sat and listened to a clock tick? The sound is unmistakable. Often times it ticks in our heads without us even realizing it. We tap our feet to a song, or walk in a steady pace. Time is the one thing everyone has in common. There is no language barrier to surpass, there is no foreign element. It is the one thing we can all agree on.

What if it changed? What if for some; time was spent much faster. What if for some; time stood still. Would everything we know fall apart. Would chaos tear apart our world. For those who experienced this would we label them as insane? Or would we call those people, the ones that see time move more slowly. The ones that find it hard to breathe in between each second. The people who finally stop hearing the ticking of the clock. Would we call them in love?

A look into my eyes

A wrinkle in time is all that is left. The piano playing in the background. I wish I knew what it means. The eyes are the only thing that is true. I thought I knew them well, but I fear they have learned to betray me. I study them quietly. A dim gray behind a sea of blue. It is hard to translate speech that has no words. I thought I had it figured out. I thought I knew when and why it rained. And in turn why they reflected the sun so brightly. But now I feel as if the change behind those eyes is as mysterious as the day I first looked at them. Perhaps it is because they know me better then I myself know me. They have seen me when I was a child. They see me now. Nothing I have done has ever escaped their gaze. It must be futile to try and fool them. To try and deceive. I now humbly surrender; to your eyes.

Ready to go Home

Please hear my cry oh Lord. Hear the prayers of an unworthy man. Why did you create us with such passion? I know the answer to my own question yet still it does not keep me from asking. I do not question your passion when I stare at a painting, when I hold a child, or when lovers kiss. But now I do. When the passion is fleeting and it leaves behind suffering it is hard to remember what it used to bring. Lord please take my suffering. I know there is glory in the suffering I just want to be finished. Please if it be your will take it now. Come back tonight and take me home. To a place where no thief can steel, no fire can burn, and no woman can kill. I am so tired of the chain sin has around me. I long for a day when lust no longer controls my mind. Please Lord come back now. Sound your trumpet and lay waste to this Eden that we have so perfectly destroyed.


Please Father take me home.

The People Close To Us Have To Die, How Else Will We Know How Much They Mean To Us?

It was a bright sunny Thursday. The July heat just made me remember how I hated the winter. I found myself sitting in a church with a suit and tie on waiting to bury my Aunt. Death had knocked on my door again and this time it was far to soon.
Funerals are interesting things. People who you have never met come from long and far to pay respect to those who have lost. Funerals are full of hugs, tears, laughs, food, more tears, more hugs and then if God willing; sleep. As I sat in the front row of the church just an arms reach away from the body that carried my Aunts soul I saw love for what it really is. I saw it stripped of all its fancy and its frills. The only time this can happen, truly happen, is in death. I watched closely the face of my now widowered uncle. He had been married to my Aunt for many years. this once hardened mans man, this man that I only new as fierce business man, and independent of soul as I have ever met had completely crumbled. The loss of his wife had broken him into more pieces then he knew he had, and he gave no effort to try to place them back together. Between hugs and acceptance of deepest gratitude and condolences he could only smile. It was a smile that barely raised the corners of his mouth and was paired with as teary eyed as eyes can get without crying. I studied his face for the longest time. At the end of the service a slide show of he and my Aunts life together played across the large video screen. In the background of the slide show an Elvis Presley song softly played. The chorus sang "I can't help falling in love with you." I watched as my uncle mouthed the words over and over with the song as tears flew down his weathered cheeks. It was the first time I had ever seen my uncle cry. As I watched Him an emotion grew within me that I did not expect or plan for. ENVY! This was true love, shown only through loss, only through death, and I wanted it. I wanted to love someone so much that I just couldn't help falling in love with them. That a piece of me goes when they leave and that I am complete when they stay. It seams so rare to find.

I think that the scariest part about it is that my uncle didn't know he had it until the day she died.

Vacation

         Restless, I can't sleep.  I have run away to Texas for a while.  I ran away with the knowledge of that my problems will still be there when I return.  But I don't care.  I am sitting on a porch listening to nature, writing by the shaky light of a candle.  My problems are not here and they can wait.  I did not run in search of clarity for I knew I would not find it.  I did not run in hopes that I would return to changed circumstances for I knew my circumstances would wait for me.  I ran because I needed to run.  I have been at this long enough to know when and how far I need to run.  I do not expect to find some revelation that I have been missing.  What I have expected to find is peace.  I have found what little I can.  I would be lying if I said I wasn't expecting more.  But more hasn't come and that's the way it is.

        One thing I have found is that serenity comes with work, not laziness.  The moments of peace that have come, have come when sweat has been falling from my brow.  The times of rest and relaxation have been the times where I have remembered most what I have run from.  I just hope that in my run home I achieve the wisdom needed to deal with my circumstances.  that is all I really truly want.  Wisdom.  Maybe I'll find wisdom in Texas.  Huh or maybe the wind will blow out my shaking light.

Slow Motion Monday

          It's a slow motion Monday.  Everything is so punctual.  Music has pierced my ears to a depth never before.  The wind that hit me seemed to lift me off the ground.  Just for a second,  but a slow motion second. I feel like God has been walking around with me all day.  I've never seen Him before so every corner I turn my anxiety increases, as I expect to meat Him.  Maybe He's in the wind that lifts me, in the music that carries me, in the imagination that has taken me to my hearts desire.  Today I saw God as I ran along the beach as the sun rose.  The wind pushing me to run farther.  The music numbing the pain of my burning thighs.  Then without warning the wind changed  directions and brought me to a sudden stand still.  For a slow motion second I stood there starring, searching. I can't describe the beauty.  And in a slow motion second it was gone