I wrote this back in early 2008. And I'm still shaking my head. And the x is very deliberate because, frankly I believe that this how we got from there to the we are looking at now.
Now, I have to admit that I have moved to the edges of the Christian community and of the books I’ve got going right now, one is on paganism and the other is on Celtic shamanism. Actually I think I'm on the edge of the cliff ready to dive off, but this left even me shaking my head.
Saw something Saturday that I’m still kind of trying to make sense of. In some ways, I think it’s evidence that many groups who call themselves Christians don’t really have a clue what they’re doing or how they got there.
There’s an Open Bible Standard church on Centennial. It’s one of those charismatic, Pentecostal denominations. It’s Saturday right? Smack dab between Good Friday and Easter, right? You know, Good Friday; the day Jesus found himself rejected by the temple establishment and condemned by the Romans? Yeah, that day.
Then comes the day after when his followers were scared, grieving or hiding; probably all three. If I had been one of them, I don’t think fun and games would have been anywhere near the top of my list of things to do that day.
I might have been trying to figure out how to get out of Jerusalem without being arrested for consorting with a condemned traitor, maybe crying my eyes out because a friend and teacher had been executed in one of the more brutal methods the occupying government had at its disposal, or perhaps just numb.
That said, what do I see outside this building? A shitload of cars and a big, pretty sign advertising their Easter carnival.
Granted, lapsed Methodist that I am, I never even heard of Lent until I was mid college and exploring everything under the sun except being a Methodist. But, we’ve got a theoretically conservative, Bible believing, fundamentalist congregation having a carnival on the saddest day of the Christian calendar. Am I missing something here?
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
Thursday, May 3, 2018
PAINTING WITH WORDS
I've been rereading a lot of my old journal entries. As in back in 2007. Have I really been doing this that long?
There's an old, old Bonanza episode. I forget if the man was a friend or a friend of a friend who needed someplace to get his bearings. He was an artist who'd lost his sight. He was outside by the lake with one of the Cartwrights. Ben, I think, but it's been years since I've seen this. And it's one of the few episodes that's stuck all these years.
The artist asks what's around them. The usual, trees, water, grass, sky. Then he starts asking for a more detailed description. Not just green, but what kind of green? Not just blue but what kind of blue. Are there clouds? Are they reflected in the water? He comes to understand that he may not be able to paint with a brush anymore, but he has a life time of memories of places he's been and seen and he can still paint them. With words.
There's an old, old Bonanza episode. I forget if the man was a friend or a friend of a friend who needed someplace to get his bearings. He was an artist who'd lost his sight. He was outside by the lake with one of the Cartwrights. Ben, I think, but it's been years since I've seen this. And it's one of the few episodes that's stuck all these years.
The artist asks what's around them. The usual, trees, water, grass, sky. Then he starts asking for a more detailed description. Not just green, but what kind of green? Not just blue but what kind of blue. Are there clouds? Are they reflected in the water? He comes to understand that he may not be able to paint with a brush anymore, but he has a life time of memories of places he's been and seen and he can still paint them. With words.
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
LEAVE THEM A FLOWER AND A CHANCE TO SURVIVE
Saw a depressing headline the other day. At least one think tank is predicting that salt water fisheries will collapse by 2050. Haven't seen anyone else confirm. Haven't heard anyone saying they are blithering idiots either. Mom won't be here. I won't be here. Probably. Sisters? Maybe, maybe not. Nephews and their families? Very, very probably.
I speak on behalf of the next generation
My sons and daughters, their children to come.
What will you leave them for their recreation
An oil slick, a pylon, an industrial slum.
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity.
You plunder and pillage, you tear and you tunnel
Trees lying toppled, roots finger the sky.
Building a land for machines and computers
In the name of progress the farms have to die.
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity
Fish in the ocean polluted and poisoned
The sand on the beaches stinking and black
And you with your tankers, your banks and investments
Say, Never worry, the birds will come back
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity
When the last flower has dropped its last petal
When the last concrete is finally laid
The moon will shine cold on a nightmarish landscape
Your gift to your children, this world that you made
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity
I remember when this song came out in the seventies. Willie Whyten wrote it. Ed Ames covered it.
I speak on behalf of the next generation
My sons and daughters, their children to come.
What will you leave them for their recreation
An oil slick, a pylon, an industrial slum.
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity.
You plunder and pillage, you tear and you tunnel
Trees lying toppled, roots finger the sky.
Building a land for machines and computers
In the name of progress the farms have to die.
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity
Fish in the ocean polluted and poisoned
The sand on the beaches stinking and black
And you with your tankers, your banks and investments
Say, Never worry, the birds will come back
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity
When the last flower has dropped its last petal
When the last concrete is finally laid
The moon will shine cold on a nightmarish landscape
Your gift to your children, this world that you made
Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity
I remember when this song came out in the seventies. Willie Whyten wrote it. Ed Ames covered it.
GLOBE OF LIGHT
Flash image. Planet? Star? Figment of my imagination? A globe of spinning light strands. What is going on here.
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
THE LADY HAS LEFT THE STAGE
This was posted on the net awhile back. I think Lady Liberty doesn't feel very welcome these days.
Have a safe trip. We already miss you.
Have a safe trip. We already miss you.
Saturday, April 28, 2018
SHIFTING SANDS
I'm going to try to revive this poor, neglected blog. I'm at a cross roads right now. Will probably be cross posting with the Hope blog.
I'm rereading Starhawk's Spiral Dance again. For the first time. And rereading some Quaker texts. Again for the first time.
I was working with her "Grounding the Tree of Life." Sitting, breathing, eyes closed. Sudden image of the Great Tree as a great, old oak. Roots going down, down, down deep into the earth. And suddenly I'm hit with feelings of grief and sorrow. (how do you put a psychic experience into words, it's impossible)
Grief for what? Not sure. Loss of habitat? Loss of the birds that make the trees their homes? Loss of the trees so the birds have no where to go? Breaking the circle? Don't know right now.
Was it me crying or was I tapping into, recognizing some deep ecological sorrow? That the trees had a way of communicating through their root systems, through the deep earth and that is being destroyed?
I'm rereading Starhawk's Spiral Dance again. For the first time. And rereading some Quaker texts. Again for the first time.
I was working with her "Grounding the Tree of Life." Sitting, breathing, eyes closed. Sudden image of the Great Tree as a great, old oak. Roots going down, down, down deep into the earth. And suddenly I'm hit with feelings of grief and sorrow. (how do you put a psychic experience into words, it's impossible)
Grief for what? Not sure. Loss of habitat? Loss of the birds that make the trees their homes? Loss of the trees so the birds have no where to go? Breaking the circle? Don't know right now.
Was it me crying or was I tapping into, recognizing some deep ecological sorrow? That the trees had a way of communicating through their root systems, through the deep earth and that is being destroyed?
Friday, May 10, 2013
THE BEST LAID PLANS
There has been a lull my life and the blogging life while dealing with a bug of some sort. It pops up every now and then. Upset stomach and other symptoms that are more a PITA than anything else but it does slow things down a bit.
On other fronts. Blood pressure readings for both mom and me are improving. Her balance is much better and her mental state is, well if there was anything higher than a hundred percent she'd be there. Less hesitation when talking on the phone. Time spent outside, which she loves. So far so good. More later.
On other fronts. Blood pressure readings for both mom and me are improving. Her balance is much better and her mental state is, well if there was anything higher than a hundred percent she'd be there. Less hesitation when talking on the phone. Time spent outside, which she loves. So far so good. More later.
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