I am made out of bricks. Super-glue and Popsicle sticks. You may build me peace buy piece. But, some people prefer the pre-built kits. No questions asked. No instructions inquired. Look upon me and despair, mortal. As knowledgeable as a rodent without whiskers, paws, or snout. As knowledgeable as a mathematician in humanities! How do you maintain what you refuse to understand?
New idea: try breaking me down. Oh dear! you can't. We do come built strong; just not by you. Look at tomorrow and tell me you aren't wasting your time, then. You could be laying piece by piece, yet you concede you are complete. You are finished. You have built all there is to be built. I disagree. And, so does Life the Inferno.
Yesterday you had stick structured adhesives, today you have pine-ash. Yesterday you had ideas, today you have ignorance. Yesterday you knew everything. Yesterday you had. But, today is a confused tomorrow and you don't know how to fix it. Better learn fast, you are running out of time. And, if you see us smiling at you don't blame yourself. We're still just learning too. Some people just do it happier than others. Why not?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Where the snow falls
We have been in falling snow recently. I hear that in the distant states on the distant coasts it is worse than here, but here is our concern and there is theirs. Is it better to have copious amounts or minute portions? Teased or deluged, our preference?
If I was to choose between all-at once or small increments (and, mind you, agony or pleasure be the preference) I would say yes to the agony and no to pleasure. I like to see all of my foe, but take joy in bite-size portions: always wondering what treat lies around the next corner.
So let it all fall and I'll have my spring as early as I finish shoveling the walk. Who cares if the snow is 12 feet high, at least I know it is all I will be getting. But, alas, the weather is as divided as our needs and we only get what we are to deal with right now. It makes me wonder at people who get hurricanes. Maybe they're televisions look better soaking wet?
If I was to choose between all-at once or small increments (and, mind you, agony or pleasure be the preference) I would say yes to the agony and no to pleasure. I like to see all of my foe, but take joy in bite-size portions: always wondering what treat lies around the next corner.
So let it all fall and I'll have my spring as early as I finish shoveling the walk. Who cares if the snow is 12 feet high, at least I know it is all I will be getting. But, alas, the weather is as divided as our needs and we only get what we are to deal with right now. It makes me wonder at people who get hurricanes. Maybe they're televisions look better soaking wet?
Monday, January 24, 2011
The recent adventures of Sunlight and Dawn
They rose over the mountain tops to the usual scene. Houses just beginning to wake, smoking chimneys. The cold ground gleaming up at them.
"This is as far as I go" spoke Dawn. "I shall await your return on the morrow."
The Sunlight peeked over the mountain tops one last time before saying goodbye to his old friend (they were quite as old as friends could be) and leaping into the valley below.
When you are so grand and so large as Sunlight is you can make quite a stir in the world. Far beneath the insect-like hive of people began to move about as if something were hounding them. They started frying eggs and steering automobiles to the farthest corners of the Earth. Sunlight counted his influence as primary in their motivations. Surely his daily travel over their little township was quite the most remarkable thing that happened there. Many would say it was.
By noon-time people started to settle in with his bright demeanor. Sunlight happily reached his highest point to look down at those who pleasantly stopped their hustle and bustle for a spot of lunch. They were in the midst of enjoying him with only small breaks by impudent clouds who dared stare between. The clouds were beyond his touch, though. They were consequence for deeds past done and pools past warmed. He stared at them sorrowfully who shadowed his gaze and influence. All they could do to that which was so dear to him. Sooner or later, like all mortal things, they would fall and he would strike again. And, again they would rise to taunt him in their petty way.
Soon the time for descent was upon our friend, the Sunlight. He dove for the far horizon now, tiring quickly. He needed rest from this languid scene of work and play. The children were just running from their school houses begging him to stay a bit longer; grasping at whatever fragments of day that remained, but it was too late. His dive that began slowly sped and sped until the last evening rays of his power shot through windows and he could see books being read and workers rise and stretch as closing time approached. Still now he tired and tired, his eyes red with fatigue, but his face golden with the efforts of warming an entire world.
Somewhere else he was just stirring life that offered new sights and new sounds. And there, at horizon's end, was his good friend Dawn to waiting to greet him again.
"This is as far as I go" spoke Dawn. "I shall await your return on the morrow."
The Sunlight peeked over the mountain tops one last time before saying goodbye to his old friend (they were quite as old as friends could be) and leaping into the valley below.
When you are so grand and so large as Sunlight is you can make quite a stir in the world. Far beneath the insect-like hive of people began to move about as if something were hounding them. They started frying eggs and steering automobiles to the farthest corners of the Earth. Sunlight counted his influence as primary in their motivations. Surely his daily travel over their little township was quite the most remarkable thing that happened there. Many would say it was.
By noon-time people started to settle in with his bright demeanor. Sunlight happily reached his highest point to look down at those who pleasantly stopped their hustle and bustle for a spot of lunch. They were in the midst of enjoying him with only small breaks by impudent clouds who dared stare between. The clouds were beyond his touch, though. They were consequence for deeds past done and pools past warmed. He stared at them sorrowfully who shadowed his gaze and influence. All they could do to that which was so dear to him. Sooner or later, like all mortal things, they would fall and he would strike again. And, again they would rise to taunt him in their petty way.
Soon the time for descent was upon our friend, the Sunlight. He dove for the far horizon now, tiring quickly. He needed rest from this languid scene of work and play. The children were just running from their school houses begging him to stay a bit longer; grasping at whatever fragments of day that remained, but it was too late. His dive that began slowly sped and sped until the last evening rays of his power shot through windows and he could see books being read and workers rise and stretch as closing time approached. Still now he tired and tired, his eyes red with fatigue, but his face golden with the efforts of warming an entire world.
Somewhere else he was just stirring life that offered new sights and new sounds. And there, at horizon's end, was his good friend Dawn to waiting to greet him again.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Options aside
Options aside, there is really only one choice: the best one. Don't be fooled by the worlds vague counter-options and alternative plans. The best one is all that matters.
There is much truth to be learned, but which is our cup of tea? Really to comprehend any we must start with a few basics, all of which can be found in Religion (of the LDS sort). Where we came from, where we are, where we are going. How to be happy. Who we are. Why we are.
Even so there is much to learn, but a drop in the sea of time, a smaller drop in the oceans of eternity, is one way to fill our little bucket-heads.
Feed me only what is best for me in any vocation. I have little time for the search and barely more for the learning. Here is the deal. If I find a truth I'll clue you in, but do the same. Savvy?
There are many differing voices. Be open to contradiction and be edified by it (for or against your own view). We can't all be right unless we are, and we aren't if we disagree for any reason beside that of disagreeing. Under such circumstances consider yourself an offender and defender of truth. Shoot the bullet, and take it, all at once.
Swallow as much as is necessary, but never more. This will help you avoid vomiting the filth back up. Take only what you should. Be careful where you go. You often take without knowing, and give back without a second thought. People often hear the lines we forgot we've heard.
There are several things that not knowing teaches us, but mostly that there is always more to not know. With this view point may we ever be an open book written in permanent ink. A good story's characters contradict themselves. We call it learning. We call it dynamic.
Options aside we stand by our decisions. We denote them. We live them. We are stuck in the whirl-pool of decision right now. Or is it a tornado? Whatever--swirling up or down--we all spiral towards a more final destination, but is it the right one?
Never be afraid to ask questions. There are are too many options not too.
Smile or frown you are about to start tomorrow (at last!); that day that is always a day away. In order to catch it you must plan well, otherwise it will always exceed your preparations.
No doubt you may disagree, then inform. Collaborate. Enjoy.
There is much truth to be learned, but which is our cup of tea? Really to comprehend any we must start with a few basics, all of which can be found in Religion (of the LDS sort). Where we came from, where we are, where we are going. How to be happy. Who we are. Why we are.
Even so there is much to learn, but a drop in the sea of time, a smaller drop in the oceans of eternity, is one way to fill our little bucket-heads.
Feed me only what is best for me in any vocation. I have little time for the search and barely more for the learning. Here is the deal. If I find a truth I'll clue you in, but do the same. Savvy?
There are many differing voices. Be open to contradiction and be edified by it (for or against your own view). We can't all be right unless we are, and we aren't if we disagree for any reason beside that of disagreeing. Under such circumstances consider yourself an offender and defender of truth. Shoot the bullet, and take it, all at once.
Swallow as much as is necessary, but never more. This will help you avoid vomiting the filth back up. Take only what you should. Be careful where you go. You often take without knowing, and give back without a second thought. People often hear the lines we forgot we've heard.
There are several things that not knowing teaches us, but mostly that there is always more to not know. With this view point may we ever be an open book written in permanent ink. A good story's characters contradict themselves. We call it learning. We call it dynamic.
Options aside we stand by our decisions. We denote them. We live them. We are stuck in the whirl-pool of decision right now. Or is it a tornado? Whatever--swirling up or down--we all spiral towards a more final destination, but is it the right one?
Never be afraid to ask questions. There are are too many options not too.
Smile or frown you are about to start tomorrow (at last!); that day that is always a day away. In order to catch it you must plan well, otherwise it will always exceed your preparations.
No doubt you may disagree, then inform. Collaborate. Enjoy.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Mix mash
Give me one ounce philharmonic orchestra, three teaspoons of pure light, a pound of life, and the lead singer from Coheed and Flyleaf. Mix well. Watch for drips. Cooking or chemistry, accidents happen. One lost drop and you may have some high-pitched Samoan man running around trying to be morbid until he explodes (They always do that...).
Life is eclectic. The experience can be many flavors and, hardly all at once, all of them.
Imagine your barn burned down the same day your daughter was born. In some age that might have labeled her as witch. Now it's just pretty cool. The feelings might out range each other. You might be sad because of the barn, or happy because of your daughter, but mixing both makes you manic and that isn't healthy.
Let me say that without a smile on your face you would still look like a person, and with a frown you might not. Let's all be godlings and pray for those whose faces are permanently disfigured into chagrin, no matter how skilled at Schumann. Deep, dark, and wonderful to have a rootbeer after.
Is this making any sense? Can anyone that hears understand? I want to meet this person, because there are times I don't, I just think I do (and that isn't always enough). But, let's move forward with confidence. There is no reason not to. Understanding aside, we can do things, incredible things, with a little effort. Father smiles on you all. Spread your wings, or fingers, or whatever it is you spread (even if it is butter).
Life is eclectic. The experience can be many flavors and, hardly all at once, all of them.
Imagine your barn burned down the same day your daughter was born. In some age that might have labeled her as witch. Now it's just pretty cool. The feelings might out range each other. You might be sad because of the barn, or happy because of your daughter, but mixing both makes you manic and that isn't healthy.
Let me say that without a smile on your face you would still look like a person, and with a frown you might not. Let's all be godlings and pray for those whose faces are permanently disfigured into chagrin, no matter how skilled at Schumann. Deep, dark, and wonderful to have a rootbeer after.
Is this making any sense? Can anyone that hears understand? I want to meet this person, because there are times I don't, I just think I do (and that isn't always enough). But, let's move forward with confidence. There is no reason not to. Understanding aside, we can do things, incredible things, with a little effort. Father smiles on you all. Spread your wings, or fingers, or whatever it is you spread (even if it is butter).
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Misunderstanding
I'm no stranger to misunderstanding. Intuition without thought is as healthy as leaping without eyes. I've fictitiously ended my fair share of sentences, called elaborate plots to impossible endings, and reacted based on assumption more than enough times to know that thinking, not just feeling, is required in a daily life. Misunderstandings are prone and life is a call to understand as well as interpret. For me the feeling is natural, the thinking not. For some it is to be the reverse (unimaginable as it might seem). We all have our deficient senses. We are all imperfect. May we forgive these misunderstandings as easily as we make them.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Welcome jean
Let's make a character named Jean. She is barely of height to reach the top of the fridge, but is often asked to. It is a frigid mountain in her eyes, and all rewards lie at the top of frigid mountains. Cookies, donuts, and bugs in jars.
She likes boys when they don't smile easily, but do smile often. It makes life seem harder and more rewarding all of the time. She likes beating uphill slopes, eating bland cereal, and hugging the unhugable. She likes it because it is considered difficult. She likes being considered difficult.
On Friday, September 12th, she found herself considering suicide and living. Why? Because everyone said it was impossible. She liked the odds. With a daft slip off the side of Mt. Erickson she fell without screaming towards the impossibly high snow drifts thousands of feet below. Like a military paratrooper without a parachute she aimed herself head first into the impending destruction with great precision. And then, like the last drop of chilled iced tea meeting the glass to which all were bound, she was reunited with the inevitable ice and snow that could only be her legacy. Inevitably it fell every year, and inevitably it melted. And, inevitably she met it head on daring death to take her.
It did, but not to where it normally does.
It took her back home.
There it sat with her and asked her once more to reconsider her position. After a short scalding, one she had grown used to, it reminded her that she was not in any position to commit suicide and that unless she proceeded to do what she had so far failed to accomplish with the right attitude (one of sadness, angst, self-pity, and remorse) she would never succeed. It was then Jean thought to herself. Could it be? Had she found something that she could not accomplish, despite the odds?
She woke from an afternoon nap a changed woman. There are impossible things in life, she thought, because she had declared them such. The impossibility was one in which she had crafted on her very own. And, as she could not accomplish those things, why bother trying? She started adding sugar to her cereal since the bitterness had really no effect on her. On her way to school she still ran up the hill because there was no reason not to see the top sooner, and she still hugged the unhuggable because she wanted to see them smile. The difficulty was in place for a reason. The rewards were meaningful. Some challenges meant to be overcome, some to teach us not to. And, she plays monopoly with Death every Thursday.
She likes boys when they don't smile easily, but do smile often. It makes life seem harder and more rewarding all of the time. She likes beating uphill slopes, eating bland cereal, and hugging the unhugable. She likes it because it is considered difficult. She likes being considered difficult.
On Friday, September 12th, she found herself considering suicide and living. Why? Because everyone said it was impossible. She liked the odds. With a daft slip off the side of Mt. Erickson she fell without screaming towards the impossibly high snow drifts thousands of feet below. Like a military paratrooper without a parachute she aimed herself head first into the impending destruction with great precision. And then, like the last drop of chilled iced tea meeting the glass to which all were bound, she was reunited with the inevitable ice and snow that could only be her legacy. Inevitably it fell every year, and inevitably it melted. And, inevitably she met it head on daring death to take her.
It did, but not to where it normally does.
It took her back home.
There it sat with her and asked her once more to reconsider her position. After a short scalding, one she had grown used to, it reminded her that she was not in any position to commit suicide and that unless she proceeded to do what she had so far failed to accomplish with the right attitude (one of sadness, angst, self-pity, and remorse) she would never succeed. It was then Jean thought to herself. Could it be? Had she found something that she could not accomplish, despite the odds?
She woke from an afternoon nap a changed woman. There are impossible things in life, she thought, because she had declared them such. The impossibility was one in which she had crafted on her very own. And, as she could not accomplish those things, why bother trying? She started adding sugar to her cereal since the bitterness had really no effect on her. On her way to school she still ran up the hill because there was no reason not to see the top sooner, and she still hugged the unhuggable because she wanted to see them smile. The difficulty was in place for a reason. The rewards were meaningful. Some challenges meant to be overcome, some to teach us not to. And, she plays monopoly with Death every Thursday.
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