Big Picture

Sometimes I can't think for all the feeling. It thrums and hums and whirs. So loud. It pushes my nerves fray and taut.

Oh, do I care. But, in caring about everything find that I care so little about anything. About you, or you, or you.

And, you would too.

Not care, like I do.

Look into the depths of our ocean. The infinite of our horizon. Humanity.

Your spat, your toil, your moments, your hopes. Brilliant sparkles in the frosty morning of our existence. Soon the sun will rise and dew-drop them away.

So real. So immaterial.

Life is bigger than us, but will only ever be as big as us. As wide as our eyes and tall as our tale.

One Year

One year, I will be able to say that my life has been working toward this point. I will stand, and I will shout to those that listen, that I traveled here all the way from the 1980s. Just. For. This. Moment.

And, I'll pretend that statement is exclusive.

That it isn't true in every scenario.

That this sandwich I'm eating hasn't been the culmination of every moment of every day. That I didn't work hard, just to survive and eat this crust and peanut butter and jelly.

Not that those sandwiches aren't exclusive, let's be honest. With bananas. Maybe honey.

That this chair isn't the chair that I am sitting on after 20-something years of carefully sitting on chairs. Finally. This chair.

That that look in your eyes isn't the look I've waited to see since I noticed people had eyes, or looks.

And boy, do you have looks.

That every well placed word isn't the upward ascension of the last.

That every fragrance hasn't been in the making since I found out about nostrils.

That every thing.

Everything.

That everything isn't this exquisite mess that I love and love to love.

At that moment, I'll pretend that my life, bar nothing, has been waiting for that moment.

And, I will be a liar.

Linked

Cheery little us, we stand together, bound like a mast in rigging. Circuited amiably with electricity, which we then use to circuit amiably. "On the grid" as they say.

We learn in a grandiose fashion, knowledge displayed up however we like. Images whisked from their storage states away, and vividly brought before our meandering eyes, sometimes given less than a thought.

When we are barraged we are barraged together. "Did you see that one commercial...?"

We all did.

It was targeted at us.

We are a demographic.

But, when something profound is said it bounces around. Happy, euphoric, little jumps to me and you and maybe me again. Until it is so thoroughly quoted it becomes a part of our religion. The religion of discerned wisdom.

Someone will give it a second thought, reword it, and send it out again.

We can chew on the same piece of inspiration endlessly. Limitless teriyaki jerky.

Who doesn't want that?

Look at us, all linked together in ways we never thought we could be. The lowest get raised up, and the raised seem dragged down.

But at the end of the day, the human mess, the American state, is we.

Killing is bad, cheating hurts, love is all we want, and money would be nice. That recipe looks good, this cat video is funny, and the song was catchy.

So thanks for that, us. See you all tomorrow.

The walk

Are you ever more consistent than the world around you? Are you ever more regular than the river, constant than the cars that travel down the boulevard?

A westbound sun places my shadow in trailer parks, The Paul Ream, and Jones Paint and Glass. Sees my footprint cross the river bridge, the school yard, and Burrelle's.

The children leaving Independence, heads bowed with homeward-bound homework-thoughts.

And then the sun and sky and traffic loses me somewhere on 800 North. Slipping into a shadow, with a beep and a deep breath.

Every week, and every working day.

You could say I walk the walk. I fail to speak.

And, here I am still walking. Here I am still trudging up that remote road, and I outlive the river, dying of thirst.

The bridge deviates into gang signs before I stumble off my path.

The year ends and begins for institutionalized education, but I am still here, walking.

When will the world and I collide?

When will someone tell me to get off the path, take a different route, threaten me with alterior motivations?  Altered me or else?

It will it be at night, when my heels mark the passing of eight hours. When all but ill intent sleeps on soft beds with worried heads.

That's when I'll grace the road with streetlights, welcome their orange awareness, and leave the shade to the shadows.

Focus Group

When I think of an experiment there must always be a division in results, for contrast. "You get the real deal. You get a placebo"

You get the experimental new cancer meds. You get sugar pills.

You get to live in a house with the new carpet. You only think you do.

You both get something.

That's what we take.

Everyone is a winner.

"That's unlike life, though, sir. In life the winner is rewarded, and the vanquished are not."

I'll have you know that the candy may be won by the focus group, but the control group does something odd. Something when you tell them they are the control group.

"You're not getting it"

You're just going to watch as someone else does.

You get to desire.

A desire for that candy is born.

A motivation to DO something and acquire it.

And, That is their reward.

Both get something. But, who was really the control group?

A Long While Since Yesterday

At work, by the time the shift is over, it is very late. So late that it is early. I'll leave and the chill and the dark will set in. After a long day is abruptly over there is silence.

Workers leave with the occasional "see you tonight." See you tonight. And, it starts to feel like a long while since yesterday, but its only been forty-minutes.

We work into tomorrow, and then we still don't stop. Words climb over into the next chapter. My life becomes one long page of text. From Monday to Saturday,

No breaks, no stops.

Living in a dream

We use the phrase "living in a dream" inclusively. We slap it onto those who don't own their reality. They take their thoughts and look at them, instead of the road they're driving on. Living in a dream

I with wonder think we have all missed a valuable use of this sentiment. A man goes to work, and just work, because he lives in his dreams. A woman buys makeup instead of food while living in a dream. A person places all his intents on a new car-toy-place-thing when living in a dream

Wherever the desires of our heart are there is our mind also.

And there is so much we are missing in our daily pursuits.

Let's look at the big picture for a moment or a while. Zoom out. See your doings and desires on a schematic. Ask ourselves: is this one of those little things that matters?

What if we want to adopt the view that can see us and ourselves in context. Which desire is big enough to let us see things as they really are? Give us a backdrop for our wants and desires?

What dream is the big dream?

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce love? Or, did you already know?

When our desire is your desire we can see our desire in the proper light.

Then we can look at our desire through the lens of you seeing it as your desire, and love ourselves as we love you, or love you as we love ourselves.

There are five different things

You should know about me. I am, at heart, a racer. I like the competition. The kind that can only foster greatness and warmth. I like to be pushed back. I like the force when two bodies, equally matched, collide. It's how I scale mountains. Ascend if you dare.
I change the world. Not like Bill Gates or Steve Jobs. They took the hard way. I thrive on the first impression and build every relationship like a story. If every smile is well placed we ricochet ripples across the globe.
Things orbit my large head until they inevitably careen into it. We are, perhaps, as "smart" as we think we are, but that says nothing for intelligence. Any one of us can create a well of gravity at any moment, deeper and deeper until everyone is clamouring to get out of it, or go crashing into it, and that really hurts.
Reaching out and touching someone is as momentous as any Michelangelo. A brief contact can change lives. A flood of contact can smother them. We can be a torrent or a trickle, warm or cold. I have met warm showers and cold droplets.
There is much to be said for silence, there are piles of books on noise. But, which one lets you enjoy a field of flowers or a good-nights rest? I live in the city behind thick walls. I like to know the noise is there, just outside my little corner. I have been known to soothe to the sound of a passing train.
Five things that you should know about me, over here in the city with a beautiful lady, stars that rest on the couch, and a picnic on every tote.

It freezes down

I feel bad for the cold. So self destructive, it creeps in when no one is looking. It finds the spots and builds into a nice, high, high pressure. Then, in the midst of victory and a frozen planet, a giant cosmic ball of hydrogen fusions all over it. And... that sucks.

Excuse me while I lament on the beach with a nice chilled drink.

Post-liberty

After the pomp and circumstance we find ourselves on the long road. It is where I am now. It is where most of us are now. Do we ever give it the thought it deserves?

Every journey begins with a fanfare of some sort. Start of the engines, a wave goodbye. Something needed. Trouble. A massive explosion launches the space shuttle high into atmosphere, finally reaching that starry scape so high above. As it should be. We celebrate that lifting off from our small, little planet as monumental. Much like leaving the safety of our home, the opening of a window, the start of a trip. Does it bely the great distance that trail will hold us for?

Life begins with much exertion, but much later than that it begins again. Adolescence.

Millions of growing youth and all they want is freedom. The time has come to be who they think they are. They've been alive a maximum of 18 years, and time is strangely compounded during that time. Now they unleash themselves on a world. A slow moving world. A world with more time and consistency than they have ever thought possible.

A human will live a maximum of something near four times that little one-eight, leaving one simple question.

Have you ever thought about what you will do with all that time?

There is so very much.

Knowledge without perspective

At any given time I am in a number of classes. The class of light and shadow on the nearby ground, the class of tree limbs and falling leaves out front window, or the class of not getting hit when the gear won't shift on freeway (watch it, live, every morning between six and seven A.M); we are all aware: the schooling of life. Very few times do I ponder whether what I am observing is trying to fool me, that it has any ill intent. Leaves fall innocently. We make rules to understand, like gravity, around that fact. We observe and create our understanding. Facts present themselves and we explain them

But,

We live in a world filled with seemingly insurmountable amounts of facts. Understanding it all requires special tools: our own eyes and ears and noses and fingers and tongues are not enough. Now we have voices. We write, we record, we speak and it all flies onto the internet. Knowledge is handed out with only the effort of asking in one form or another. And, you know what? We see knowledge becomes subject to individual perspective as a thousand opinions all coalesce.

Soon, drugs are good and bad and irrelevant and important. Pornography is a natural and healthy pass-time and a destructive family-scourge. We should all be ourselves by conforming with whatever group makes us feel good. Wrong is right and right is wrong. Who is lying? With truths as distant as the internet how can we verify the honesty of anyone? We can't see the leaves falling anymore and we can't just look out the window.

We could try everything, but that something in between harming myself and buying an apple computer makes that sound like a bad idea.

No, there is a better way. We ask someone who knows. Someone who has our best interests at heart. The scourge of death and master orchestrator. The great overseer of life. GOD incorporated, whose son freed us and spirit guides us. Yes. He will know.

He will know
...
And, maybe then I will know whether I should buy 2% or whole.

Perceivings of our own selves

Being who we wish to be with the contrast of  who we want to be *around* is difficult. Finding who we are and then bringing that into the relationships in questions, letting people value you for who you are is truly wonderful. One of the many methods for determining ourselves, then, is not whether we fit in, but where we fit in and if we like it there.  Change occurs when we become aware of ourselves and our honest position in life and seek to improve it; to remove those things from it that we see as opposed to those things that frustrate our personal desires. Desires gained through much living and experiencing the pains and joys and noise and silence of life. The quantity of these experiences required before change, or the quality, is unique to the individual. Poignance is open to perspective. Life is full enough for all, however, and repentance is a process all must undertake. When and where are variables left to us and our God (Who is fully aware of our needs).
If we consider the difference between the changed (humbled, meek, gracious). And the unchanged, the experiences might be stark or non existent. War, pain, or even dismemberment are not determining factors for such wisdom. Experience is therefore no dictator of greatness. We are fully endowed with the ability to change who we are based on our circumstances and our understanding

Mrs. Carpenter

Within five blocks of the bakery sat an enchanted carpenter. The wood he worked was not magical, but the carpenter himself was. He was the topic of much conversation throughout the town, the bakery included. Customers came and went for their loaves of delicious bread, all with different stories. One or two or five were bound to bring up the magical carpenter.
            The subject of the magic is what held the town's interest. Unlike most spells that bring wealth or fame, riches or power, the carpenter's earned him a reputation in the wood world that equaled his unsurpassed skill. He, and in turn the wood he spent so much time with, smelled like sandals. Not used sandals. Just sandals. Some liked it, some did not. One in particular, however, a young lady of great liveliness and charm, had developed a great love of the scent.
            As she purchased more and more of his fine dressers and cabinets and other wood-works she had the opportunity to fall in a deep and respectful love with the carpenter and his enthralling scent. They were soon wed.
            The carpenter and the young maiden became a terrific duo. With her charm and his skill, his enchantment was soon associated with quality. It became desireable as his and her social standing launched with their success. They began a side business selling select quantities of perfume with their furniture.

They called it...

Sandalwood

If I hadn't

Is a useless statement. You did. Let's look at consequence not merely as a tool for correct choice, but as an actual surety of happenings. We still seem to think that there is some little loophole somewhere, some chance that things will miraculously change at the last minute--and they might--but such a chance is nothing worth gambling on. Go out and live with your best decisions. Make the choices that really matter. Be sure, and if something changes, be sure that it did. The variables are many, but unknown. Let them slip aside for a brief moment.

Fighting this battle

In the hustle of the job we simply don't see. In the pattern of the day we simply forget. But, in the stillness of the night we find ourselves able to further see those edges of our mind that lay forgotten. The front lines of our imagination. The place where all the honorable thoughts run into the dross head on. It is a battlefield of character, a force of self control. The world fights with an army of messages. Some good, some bad. Like Lehonti, curiosity can have a price. So, keep those defenses up. Armor those barricades. Equip those troops with the armor. The armor of god.

A day like any other

A day likes any other, it weaves and wiles it's way about. Sometimes it floods every moment in activity, others it stifles with the lack of activity. Sometimes we are meant a little extra space to make sense of it all. Something like a breath of fresh air can make all the difference. Sometimes we just need a moment that we are fully responsible for, free from other's touch. In my findings I feel responsible for those around me, or at least aware of them. With that awareness comes responsibility. It must, to an extent. This is from the eyes of an introvert who loves you all deeply enough to be his best, and his best needs space. Like a delicious bag of chips, savory in concentrated pieces. And closed and reopened the thousand times. There is meaning here, and just when you think you have it, leave and return to find something new and exciting. Responsibility aside, there is plenty of us to take care of for our own selves, but keeping that in mind with a room full of people can be a challenge.

Stuck in this Haze

A vivid imagination mixed with a pair of eyes and the world begins to have personality. A little self control: consistent stationary object behavior and explanations. People, though? People are not a consistent object. Their behavior is beyond our control (even for the most outgoing persuasives, you'll meet that one who crashes your twists). Simply best just to get over that fact. Or better, embrace it. Tomorrow is definitely yours to seize, but people's behavior (directly) is not. Not happily. Not with any grace.The difference between a centered,  polite suggestion and a manipulative demand is catastrophically great.

For a moment I imagine that we all have a hand in someone else's behavior. Our speech, our actions, our moods, even our thoughts, will affect those around us. But, when we attempt to engineer those things in others which are best left to sincere endorsement, appreciation, or earnest entreatings we spoil our good will and intent. We forget ourselves and delve into something not given, unable to be taken. We attempt to dominate. The insolent fool who tries this may have the best of intent or a noble aim,  but those things are lost in the act of trying to domineer a human soul. If such behavior becomes a habit, becomes accepted as a persons own lifestyle, then friends may seem few and far between. Life begins to be a vicarious haze as a person attempts to read and be another.

The stark realization that one must step back and with sincerity plead ones humanity and encourage ones cause with respect for the individual is a most humbling one. It is also a most necessary one.

To love that person that we are and give up the need to attempt control of others is key. To love another is to respect not only their individuality, but to encourage it for the better.

Leafing you

I remember. The smell was brisk and moist in the chill backyard. The daylight was fast maturing and the last rays formed the twilight. We all joyously ran about in those brief minutes of illumination. Hot humid home left behind and the smells of soup on the stove and bread baking held a promising future. The moment was granted a temporal security. Safely we knew our present. The chill now could be basked in with such bright warmth later. As the piles of wet leaves were flung at rosy cheeks and puffy coats, and yells carried from the game of tag just a short distance, the breath burned in your throat refreshing and the laughter sincerely flowed. Fall trees warmed in the golden rays too high above our heads, wet grass lapped against our shoes, and children hid and sought in the moist wooden structures. When the parents yelled the dinner done we would all be soaked and chilled and happy for a reprieve. But, until then, maple clung to us in our slipping about the grass. "You're it! You're it!"

There is a story

There is a story in those woods. No trifling thought or simple phrase. There is a story in them. The missing people have gone those ways. I never thought I'd watch them go with so much glee within my heart. They walked into the woods one day and left the world in their depart. I don't think they just disappeared. I don't think they are simply gone. Absent though their laughter is, that passage is not so very long. A question raised at fireside meal, a stray thought in the harvest fields. There is a story in distant wood. We'll question it until it yields. We'll poke and prod with travelers until they're lost from light of day. We'll never see those prods again, but we won't stop with time's decay.

Reverse the polarity

It is the intent that counts, they say. Not only the intent? If intent could communicate clearly than words would be redundant.
If I yelled "I'm going to reverse the polarity." The intent does not also say, "I think he is going to reverse the polarity." The intent says "He is going to do something that may help. Hold on." In this sense it distills hope. Someone may swear. Ill word for ill intent. Someone else may say something that holds no offense technically, but in the same explication. It is somehow less offensive. In this sense the first distills distaste or offense, the second, humor. From this we also garner that words must match intent in order to be fully effective. By forcefully mismatching words we create a strange hilarity in our swearing. We show a strange sense of self control. "There, that fellow has taken the time to rewrite his dictum!" It was not accidental, it was meant, and the choice can be humorous.
Accidental unintentional is often the source of much laughter. When a fellow attempts to murder you by hitting you with a bag of marshmallows (he thinks it is the key to draining your powers), we find hilarity. Mismatched intent. Intent vs. fact. Intent vs. ability. This same logic applies to gift giving.
"I want to give the greatest gift in the world!" exclaims the young man. He then goes out all starry eyed and purchases a lamp-shade he really thought was an abstract hat perfect for the intended recipient.

May our intent be intentional, our ability understood, our poise graceful in our acceptance of those with good intent.