Looking For The Long Ride

What I know about dreams and what they mean can fit neatly into an extra small coffee cup—the kind like those upscale shops use to put a shot of espresso. One gulp and it’s finished.

What I do know is that I do dream and sometimes when I wake in the middle of one, I remember the content and the feelings associated with whatever it is rambling round my nighttime brain. I can also say without reservation that dreams seem to cycle and re-cycle themselves—often the same feelings seem to be attached to different cerebral scenarios.

Last night I remember dreaming about being in Africa—it is a dream that I have had many times over the past couple of years since I returned from my trip to Tanzania. Although the scene is always somewhat different it is a vivid dream of me being in Africa and being caught off guard as to the timing of my return trip to America.

What I always seem to remember most is the feeling that the day stamped on my return ticket comes and I am not prepared to return. It is always a scramble to get my luggage together and arrange a ride to the airport which is always about an hour or two away from where I am staying. It is as though I am caught unawares by the date and seem unsettled with my ability to get myself to the airport and home again. Like if I don’t the ticket expires and then what do I do.

And this is not to say that I wouldn’t want to stay there in Africa—just that the dynamic of the dream is such that I am always looking at a situation that has no easy solution.

In the past I have never made it to the airport before I woke up—yet last night I not only made it to the airport, but found that the plane itself always arrives several hours later than what the ticket says. So, after much worry, I made it to the airport in time to meet the plane. Then I woke up.

What this says about me and my psyche is really up for grabs. I have wanted to go back to Africa since the very day I landed back in America from that first time. That said, a return trip is not something that you do on a whim—lots of planning and money go into the makeup of that type of journey.

In other words, I have the time, the inclination, but not the where-with-all to make it back.

Sometimes I doubt my sincerity—if I really wanted to go back to Africa that bad (I say to myself) I would save my nickels and dimes and go without that bottle of wine in order to facilitate a faster return trip. Yet even as I allow myself to think about this I realize how hard it is to accomplish everything else it is I want to do and I sort of lay off myself for a season.

I am a man in conflict with his very nature and upbringing. Add to the previous scenario the fact that I would like my wife to go with me and perhaps my 14 year old daughter and things get really complicated.

I guess for now it is enough to know that I finally made it to the airport in my dreams—yet the dream is always me coming back and not leaving for and that I haven’t even begun to comprehend.

In the meantime I hope to get a good nights sleep this very evening and look forward to the weather getting warmer so I can get outside a little more. I guess Africa will take care of itself and that is probably the best I can hope for at this point.

Enjoy today and look forward to another ride—that is what life really comes down to—a place for everything and everything almost making it to the table.

Enjoy your ride today.

I remember back in the early to mid eighties when I worked at the Jefferson Times newspaper, I had to come up with editorial and feature ideas for the twice a week publication on a very “regular” basis. I would often read the Winston-Salem Journal to get story leads in order to put a local flavor to them—what resulted was uniquely mine but the ideas were sort of second hand. And the great part is that nobody seemed to know I did this and I really feel that if they did, they didn’t care one way or the other. Newspapers are like that—in one eye and out the other and then we pile them up and take them to the re-cycle bin every so often.

It was an interesting time—one in which I never thought I would be reminiscing over almost 25 years later. But that is like a lot of our lives—we live them day by day and often go years without really taking the time to evaluate where we have been and where we are headed. As if any of this really matters—it is what it is, as some would say.

Yet we find ourselves several years down the road in our ride and begin to wonder how long it will last and have we made the most of it and all the other thoughts that come to mind on a lazy winter evening.

All that to say this: it is late January in the mountains of North Carolina and I am ready for the winter to be over. I am sure the ski resorts are not ready but I am. If I never see snow again I think that I would not miss it. I have burned almost two loads of wood since November and hope I have enough left to see me through until the balmy days of spring—i doubt it will last but one can always hope. It is the same every year—but different. Sandi and I started the winter reading books every night instead of watching the television and really enjoying the time shift into slow winter mode.

It wasn’t until later that I realized that I had added a few pounds of winter-weight primarily because the weather had not been conducive to taking bike rides like last year. When you are used to getting into one size of pants and your body is sending you a different signal, it’s hard to adjust. For those of you who have never experienced mountain winter weather, you can have all that I can send you and then some more—I have seen enough to last a lifetime.

I began to chronicle my thoughts blog-wise over a year ago after leaving a church I had been a part of for over 22 years. I had lots of thoughts that I needed to express and this was the medium that I chose. I am here to say that I don’t have any fewer thoughts today that I had way back when, but getting them out is a little more protracted that before. It is almost like my mind went on a writer’s strike of its own and since it is not worried whether or not it finishes a season or not for syndication, I am left with what I have. I may finish 15 episodes this month or I may only submit five—that’s the way it is and I can’t make it be what I doesn’t want.

I could talk about Euclid and his postulates which state:

   1. A straight line segment can be drawn by joining any two points.
   2. A straight line segment can be extended indefinitely in a straight line.
   3. Given a straight line segment, a circle can be drawn using the segment as radius and one endpoint as center.
   4. All right angles are equal.
   5. If two lines are drawn which intersect a third in such a way that the sum of the inner angles on one side is less than two right angles, then the two lines inevitably must intersect each other on that side if extended far enough.

Or I could mention the fact that Greek thinking is linear and perhaps has gotten us into a mess that we don’t really want to be in. They had the world figured out and fashioned in their own image—so much so that the logical thinking we use everyday was formulated by them.

Or I could just say that the winter is long and my mind has gone into hibernation and I will be a lot more regular blog-wise in the spring.

Yesterday I left work early and went for a 22 mile bike ride with my buddy Glen. It was 52 degrees when we began and got progressively colder as the afternoon floated by. But it was good to be out and about if you know what I mean. I then came home, spent some quality time with my wife and went to bed early. I imagined my ride again as I felt my body tone down after a good workout—every vibration and bump in the road was like a poem re-read and written only to me. It won’t be long before I can be out and about in a more regular fashion—it will be a time to order seeds for the garden and get the tiller out of the storage shed.

In the midst of all the years that have been lived and have passed us by—it really is a joy to be alive and be looking for the long ride.

The past couple of weeks have been an unsettled mosaic of events that have not really seemed to make a pattern I can recognize other than to say most of my time has been spent inside feeding the wood stove in light of the recent cold wave that has hit most of what we call the south-east.

During this period of not being able to live our lives outside, Sandi and I have seen a few more movies than normal—most notably “Juno”, “Waitress” and “Reign Over Me”.

Juno is a film about a teenage girl who gets pregnant and after a moment at the abortion clinic decides to keep the baby and find a couple who will love it and call her child their own. It is a decent film that despite her honorable choice, joins most of what comes out of Hollywood these days in being “morally ambiguous“. Which to me means the film is saying that whichever choice Juno would have made is alright and is only guided by how she feels about it and not some moral standard to which she submits her life to. In not promoting one cause or the other, it is but one more example of films that promote Cultural Relativism which can be defined as “…the principle that one’s beliefs and activities should be interpreted in terms of one’s own culture”. And our culture is pretty much saying that a woman can do what she wants with her own body and that the “tissue” your body produces when the sperm hits the egg is OK to get rid of if it would be inconvenient to your lifestyle or future plans.

In other words, Juno is a creative story of a pregnant girl who makes a choice and follows through with it. It is a thoroughly human tale but is not pro-life or pro-choice—just an interesting tale told by a good writer and acted out by people in the process of developing their craft.

This doesn’t make it and others like it bad movies—just that one needs to have a realistic attitude when approaching most of what is called “film” today. It is like that old saying that goes: if you don’t believe in something you will fall for anything—or words to that effect.

“Reign Over Me” is the story of a man (Adam Sandler) who lost his family on a 9/11 airplane and how his life evolved in the aftermath of that seismic event.

“Waitress” stars former “Felicity” Kerri Russell and is an American “Like Water For Chocolate”. Her louse of a husband gets her drunk and pregnant and what follows is her trying to get out of her unhappy life. The movie is well done but is another example of people doing stuff that in “real life” doesn’t always turn out as well.

In between films, I explored Facebook and kept in touch with some “newly found” old acquaintances. This new social networking scene is very interesting and can provide the participants with some avenues of thought and action that push the envelop of what we call “friendship”. I am more of a “face-to-face” kind of guy and also have done my time on the telephone. Face to face you can see the body language of the person you are talking to and hear the vocal inflections that are not present over the internet or e-mail. Words seem to take on a life of their own online and one has to be really careful when sharing with someone. Although by this time in my life I am more direct and up-front than I have ever been because there really isn’t a lot of time for all that dancing around something that is right in front of us and most likely should be verbalized.

In light of this I began to think about what a friend is and how all that works out in the real world. I also came to the conclusion that in our society, friendlessness is almost an epidemic.

There are a number of couples I have known that seem to not have any really good friends in their lives. There are also single people that I know who feel lonely, discouraged and somewhat isolated. And having a My Space page doesn’t do a lot to alleviate those feelings. It’s a balm for sure but not a cure for where we find ourselves all to often in our life’s journey.

I am glad to say that I have a couple of good friends with whom I can be myself and they can be who they are as well without feelings of guilt or recrimination. People who I can call when I am feeling lonely or otherwise unsettled and with whom I can be real and authentic.

A friend is dictionary defined as:

1. A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

2. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.

I am reminded of that old Jewish saying that goes: Who finds a faithful friend, finds a treasure.

I have learned that in this life you only get a few close friends and that friendship is indeed a gift from God just as finding a loving wife is.

My wife is my “best friend” who I sometimes have to wonder what she saw in me almost 30 years ago. I do know that she saw something hiding inside that was more me than what most people saw on the outside and because she saw it, I became more of who I was destined to be and am becoming. Life is a process that we live through—it takes years to become a good friend to someone and also fully appreciate who they are and in process of becoming as well.

It is also true that I am an imperfect vessel who sometimes says and does things that are unnecessary and uncalled for—that I have wounded the ones I love most and have not always “been there” for them.

A friend of mine, Robert Mearns, said on Sunday that his picture of God is like an editor who takes the story we have submitted (read “lived”) and then, without taking who we are out of it, makes it better. He is indeed the author and finisher of the story we live everyday. And everyday I become more amazed at the plans and purposes He has for us. If only those people in those Hollywood movies could find their way into that screenplay. A story that has a beginning, a middle and an end—forever and forever until the end of time.

And at least to me, that is a real-life best seller screenplay and worthy of a Oscar any day of the week.

You won’t find it in playing at your local cinema—but may find it around a dinner table, at work, in a coffee shop somewhere or on your own long ride into the future of who you are becoming. It’s your ride, enjoy it.

Last week I flew to Kentucky on business and in between doing what I
was there to do, I was able to visit a “destination location” called
Jungle Jim’s. Jungle Jim’s International Market is actually located in
Fairfield, Ohio, just a few miles from downtown Cincinnati.

Jungle
Jim’s is one of those places that can’t adequately be described without
seeing it in person. It is 300,000 square feet of “grocery store” with
annual sales of more than $90 million dollars that on a good week sees
about 50,000 people visit. It currently has 300 employees.

Needless
to say, there were not 50,000 people there when I visited—not anywhere
near that number but still a lot of people going from area of interest
to area of interest. After all, it’s winter in Ohio and not many people
on vacation at this time.

The first thing you notice is the 27
checkout isles arranged much like a Sam’s Club. Once past these the
store begins to open up and once you get your bearings, the real hike
begins. We began our journey in the wine and beer section after buying
a coffee at the Starbucks Café. Having been in some big stores—most
notably the corporate Whole Foods Store in Austin—I was still shocked
by the shear volume of goods packed into that space. They must have had
every wine from every region in the world and it was organized by
nation and area. Imagine the selection at your local supermarket and
multiple it by 20 times and you get the picture. Along the walls
leading up to the wine section was the beer “library” and you haven’t
lived until you check out some of the names of the craft brews that
adorned the walls. Probably every small brewery in the country was
represented. As advertised they have more than 800 International Beers
and Microbrews; more than 400 U.S. Microbrews from 66 Producers in
addition to many rare Monastery Brews. In a word: it was overwhelming.

Since
you can only look for so long we then proceeded around the store
following a route that led us to more and more departments and more
foods and things than I had ever seen assembled in one place at one
time. From the cheese department we entered the vegetable market with
every conceivable domestic and foreign veggy available for sale. Then
came the fish and meat department where you could buy fresh fish from a
huge tank and get fresh cuts of any meat you might want from buffalo to
ostrich and everything in between.

We then entered the dry goods
area where everything was organized into national rows—isles and isles
of Hispanic, Asian, Greek, Jewish, English, Danish, and middle eastern
sections just to name a few that I remember. From there we walked to
the “hot sauce” alley where you could choose from any of over a
thousand different brands of good old burn your belly liquids. Of
course I had to buy a couple.

In a word or two: the store has
almost everything you would need to prepare a meal in almost any ethnic
tradition and then some. You want some Russian borscht, you need look
no further than Jungle Jim’s. To round everything out they even have a
pet supply section, a health food area, a post office and a pharmacy as
well. One stop shopping redefined and re-refined.

So, it
wasn’t all business this past week—there was the trip to Jungle Jim’s
International Supermarket in Fairfield, Ohio—a trip that I will
remember for a long time or at least as long as the hot sauce holds out.

Enjoy
your ride today even if you can’t choose between a hundred different
dry pastas or more olive oil brands than you can fit in a van.

Even though business trips are not necessarily something that I look forward to, I always enjoy what accompanies them: the time to reflect and the opportunity to see and experience new things. Reflection brings with it new perspectives on many of our daily activities that we normally don’t take a look at in the busyness of our work-a-day world.

This past week I took a trip to the Kentucky side of Cincinnati to do what we call in the publication world a “press check”. This is a time when the customer, me, gets up close and personal with the people who print the catalog that my department works on for most of the year. It is kind of like the last look at something before thousands of copies are printed and sent all over the world for people to interact with and buy what we have for sale. Sometimes a mistake is found at the last minute but most generally it is a time to adjust color on the page and by your very presence there, create in the press people a desire to make your project look like the best one in the world. It is a game of give and take and requires a lot of energy, patience and endurance.

When you are not on call at the plant, you are eating, checking your e-mail and looking for somewhere to take a long walk. When it is over you fly back and rejoin your old life which most of the time is still in progress—your time away just a brief pause for a commercial and a bathroom break.

Airports are always an interesting place to people watch. You get to see every section of society—from the high class to the business class and all that survive in between. I often wonder what they think of me as I watch them text message and pound the keyboards of their computers. Real “road-warriors” who log thousands of miles every year, sleep in hotels and eat restaurant food every meal. What a life.

What I noticed this year was how our nationwide economy breaks down on an very individual level with each and every person doing their part to create wealth for all of us. From the cars we drive to the houses we live in—the battle for prosperity goes on each and every day. We are all dependent on one another. If my company is not doing well then the business that prints my catalog is not doing well and their employees are not doing well and all the businesses that count on their support suffer as well. Everyday there is a flurry of activity on the highways and byways of our towns and cities that produce a place where we can find peace and comfort. It is simply amazing.

However, it is my observation, that all is not well in this little scenario that I have described. I was shocked by all the people I saw during this last trip who seemed to be less than well. We have all read the stories about overweight Americans and the prevalence of heart disease and diabetes that follows. But until you travel—this picture still seems a little out of focus and abstract. It is not like I saw any more over-weight people than I have on earlier trips or that the man in the x-ray line at the airport check-in who could barely walk with arthritis was someone I had not seen in a similar situation. It was like something in my spirit was allowing me to see a little deeper into some of the people I came in contact with.

People who work to hard and don’t exercise enough or take enough time away from their jobs with family and friends. Even me, after one day out of my familiar surroundings longing for a place to take a walk or do something that would burn up some calories and get my heart rate above 50.

I am well aware that not all illness is from abuse—some of what we face is genetic and situational. And good eating and exercise habits are one way to a fitter you and me.

Having said all that, I am resolved to do everything in my power to make the years I have remaining productive ones. In a sense we are all time bombs waiting to go off—some this year and before their time and some in the years and decades to come. Each day is a gift and we can do no better than to accept it and live our lives as though they really count for something—what that is and where that takes us is a good start for 2008—don’t you think!

Every once and a while my mind is confronted with a piece of information that I really didn’t see coming.

Like this past Saturday—hanging out in the mall while my wife and daughter shopped, I picked up a book on sale entitled “Art and Physics: Parallel Visions in Space, Time and Light”.

In the very beginning of the book, the author Leonard Shlain says that, “Revolutionary art and visionary physics are both investigations into the nature of reality.” He further postulates that, “…the radical innovations of art embody the preverbal stages of new concepts that will eventually change a civilization. Whether for an infant or a society on the verge of change, a new way to think about reality begins with the assimilation of unfamiliar images. This collation leads to abstract ideas that only later give rise to a descriptive language.”

This statement gives rise to the next idea which goes like this: In order to learn something new, we need to first imagine it—which literally means to “make an image” of it. In other words, in order for you and I to share a vision about something, we both need to see this something in our minds eye. Yet, how many times have you thought you were on the same page as someone else, only to find out later that you were not even in the same state, thought and vision wise.

Shlain also makes a comment in the first part of his book which I not only found very interesting but which also got me to thinking a thought I had never entertained before. In describing how humans go from images to abstract thinking using words he mentions that the very first job Adam was given after he was created by God was to name the animals. And that really got me to thinking and to begin writing this entry.

Ever since childhood I have known the story of Adam and Eve. After “becoming” a Christian, I often read this story in Genesis and still fully believe in its substance and mystery. Yet Shlain’s book did a double-take on my mind and I began to think about Adam and his creation in a way that I had not ever imagined.

I had always assumed that Adam was created as an adult, but what really do I have to base this on. I had never thought about what that assumption entailed. Did he just automatically know how to walk and talk. Where did his language skills come from and from what memory bank did he bring forth the names for all the animals.

We all know about the sperm and the egg. We come into this world as infants and spend years and years accumulating the skill sets we need to function in society. From the breast to the bottle to the knife and fork covers many, many years of nurturing and development. But it would seem that Adam had it all right from the very beginning. And not that I doubt that it is above God to begin humanity with a fully formed and functional creature who walks and talks right from the get go. It is just that I never really thought about it before.

As I pondered this the other day, I somehow wandered into thinking about savants—you know those people who can play the piano beautifully without ever having been taught. Or the “Good Will Hunting” type of mathematical genius that can’t be ascribed to taking endless classes in school.

I realize that this is a murky area—savant’s are generally out of balance and lack many social skills but the concept of having some sort of knowledge, without ever having lived or learned it—much like Adam must have had—is at this point in my life very intriguing.

This thought is also somehow connected to the process of imagination. I can play the piano somewhat, not because I have learned it but because from my first meeting was captivated by its sound and did not allow myself to be intimidated by it. I can see notes fitting together and to this end can amuse myself for hours with a well tuned baby grand or upright. I am well aware that this is a “gift” and that many people I have known would not put their fingers to the keys unless they had some written music in front of them.

When I go to play an instrument or drive a car, I have a memory of having done this or that before and this memory gives me the added confidence to believe that I can do it again.

But what about Adam in the beginning—what did he remember at that very moment of creation/awareness. It is hard to say but is an interesting idea to push around for a few days.

I remember hearing a Jewish fable about how what we affectionately call the nose-scoop was created. At the moment of birth, according to my memory of the tale, the infant knows all the mysteries of the universe because he or she has been with God. It is at this point that an angel touches the child at the lip and in so doing creates that indentation and erases the child’s memory banks. Maybe Adam was allowed to retain all the stuff that was in his memory and this is how history as we know it began.

As you can probably tell—I could go on and on in this same vein but for today, that is about all I have left. I am always grateful for anything that perks me up and gets me thinking and the first few pages of this book have been a motherlode to me.

Enjoy your ride today—I am certainly on a nice one myself.

I will have to admit that I am at my most vulnerable between the hours of 3 and 4 o’clock in the morning. It is between these two digits that I often wake to vivid dreams or thoughts related to work. It is during this period of time that my imagination runs wild and my mind is most always convinced that the worse case scenario is going to play itself out.

If I wake during this time period and can’t go back to sleep within about 15 minutes I have learned to get up and read and then after a half hour or so my mind is settled enough to allow sleep to resume.

Many times I awake with the realization that I haven’t dotted all my “I’s” or crossed all my “T’s”. Even though most of the time the information is valid, I have to assume it is the enemy of my soul who attacks me with these types of insights at this particular hour of the the day. Our enemy knows our weaknesses and is not above pushing every button he can to keep us slightly unraveled.

What I have found however, is that the truth of the situation is always what will set us free. If the particular insight is something that affects someone else, rather than avoid the situation and hope that your vain imagination will vanish with the light of dawn—I have found that freedom lies in being open and honest at the first opportunity with whoever is involved.

Lets say you forgot to do something you told someone you would do—rather than fret over it and any imagined repercussions, it is best to cut the enemy off at the pass and let that person know as soon as possible that a glitch has occurred and make plans with how to deal with it. The problem is that none of that reasoning makes a lot of sense at three in the morning. But we live and we learn and this is a good lesson.

I liken this dilemma to a scripture passage about David sinning and running away from God when what he should have done is run towards Him. I guess we are still in the mode of a punishment sort of God rather than an accepting father type God.

That’s the insight for today—we learn only with the passage of time. And gracious is He to hold our hand and teach us what we need to know.

In other matters: in my last post I shared a picture of an old model-t type car slowly being devoured by nature. The picture was taken in Calumet, Michigan during a trip in the early 70’s. Sara, the grand-daughter of the family who lived by the property where the picture was taken, sent me a picture of the car’s state after at least 25 years of time had passed since the original picture was taken. I have concluded that to see the transformation is almost like an act of grace in that we are part of what has been and is almost no more (although most of who we are is still here). I can’t specifically say what the meaning to this is although I know that meaning exists in this and what continues in us. Maybe a subject for another post.

Anyway, enjoy your ride and the transformation that is continually before us.

Picture of car in the early seventies—I was kind of a black and white photo kind of guy.

And the picture of the same car many years later (in full color none the less).

And so it goes—”…something is lost and something gained in living everyday.” Joni Mitchell

As we find ourselves—like it or not—firmly thrust into the new year of 2008—we bid goodbye to the past and look only to the future and what it holds for us. Or do we?

Do we ever really leave the past behind us—or as Paul said in one of his many letters to the early church—forgetting what lies behind, I reach forward to what lies ahead. Or do we just place the memories in a box that we take down off the shelf every once and awhile.

As I look around my computer table I see lots of boxes that I have held onto for many years. Some are filled with cd’s of design jobs I have done in the past. There may be at least a hundred of them and why I keep them is a mystery to me. Do I really need them or will I ever use the contents—collected maps, brochures, menus and so forth from almost another lifetime. In addition, there are boxes filled with teaching tapes, guitar and dulcimer music, hard-to-find cassette tapes, LP’s and copies of articles I wrote during my stint as a newspaper reporter in the early eighties.

I remember when my father passed away several years ago and as the oldest—and perhaps most able—it was my responsibility to fly to California and take care of his car, apartment and belongings. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do—walking into a humanly vacant apartment and beginning to pack up and put into boxes what was left of his life on earth.

There was stuff in every drawer and compartment—from kitchen to bathroom and in between. Pens and pencils and plaques from a lifetime before all saved and seemingly important at some point in his life. I made a mental note at the time that I would not leave this kind of legacy behind me and returned to my mountain home with a resolve to put everything in order and get rid of what I didn’t need anymore.

Well, you know how that kind of thing goes—it lasts for a while and then gets caught up in the daily routine and before you can say “Rumplestiltzkin” you are surrounded by stuff that either had some value when it went onto the shelf or is perceived to have some value in the future—so it is worth hanging onto. Like clothes in the closet you haven’t worn in over a year and end up getting saved and finally clogging up your closet until you can’t fit the things you wear every week or so.

I have often reflected on the lives of men and women in monasteries—people like Brother Lawrence—who are content just to practice the presence of God and leave the rest to everyone outside. As if it were really that easy—they are just as human as we are and probably have some of the same struggles as well crop up in their daily devotions.

As this new year’s train of thought began today I was looking at some black and white photos I had taken back in the early seventies when I lived in Michigan. I fancied myself as a young Minor White and didn’t go anywhere without a big heavy SLR camera around my neck.

The first two photos were taken in Calumet, Michigan during a visit to a friend’s family compound. Michigan’s upper peninsula is very stark during the fall and winter months and can almost seem “moon-like” in some respects.

The next photo was taken in Detroit’s “Greek-Town” during a visit there. I have always liked the photo and have never posted it anywhere. I was really into faces and had a 135 mm lens so I could take candid shots like this one and not be intrusive.

So I guess in saying all of this, my goal for the new year is to embrace the future with care and begin to get rid of some of the stuff that would tend to keep me back or end up being something my son or daughters would have to filter through after my passing. I am looking for light and airy without going Zen and uncluttered and uncomplicated without being irresponsible and un-poetic.

I like artistic clutter but am really looking forward to a life not lived all squished up between the things I own or that end up owning me. ‘Nuff said and enjoy your ride.

It seems that some of the greatest truths are often the simplest ones as well. Scripture is full of simple truths that I believe we—collectively and individually—have taken apart and subsequently made very difficult to understand.

At this time of year we take time to reflect on one of the greatest/simplest truths: that God so loved the world that he gave it His only son and that in the midst of our culture we can still discover this very simple truth. Yes, He is often hidden behind the lights and all the pretty holiday wrapping—but still there nonetheless holding it all together. In John chapter one, verse 3 we read that: All things were made by him and without him was not any thing made that was made. And that pretty much says it, King James poetry language and all.

Of course the world would not be the world without all sorts of different beliefs and so on. And I think at this point how much better things would be—even with all these different world views—if we could somehow find the will to begin again with each other from a place of respect for life and human dignity.

As I see it we have no alternative but to begin again somehow—we can’t keep going down the same path that we have been traveling as a culture for the past several hundred years. And yet as simple as this statement seems, this is where thought and logic begin to get difficult to understand.

I am reminded of “The Mission”, a 1986 British film about the experiences of a Jesuit missionary in eighteenth century South America. I remember towards the end of the film, an attack on the mission by the local army and the two very different faith responses the main priests had. One faced the army, put up no defense and was killed quickly by rifle fire. The other priest grabbed a gun and went after some of the soldiers and was also later killed. Both did what they believed they were supposed to do and both were killed and as viewers we were left with the question as to who had made the “right” choice.

Which one trusted God the most and was the passive response more “faith driven” than the taking up of arms choice. I really don’t know and going down that road at this point is not for today. They both died for what they believed in.

In my mind right now I am wondering if violence will ever produce peace and logically is killing a Muslim’s son ever going to produce in that person a desire to talk about Jesus—or anything else for that matter—over a meal of rice and falafel. I know I am not doing this thought process justice and that there are many roads we could travel in discussing these types of questions.

I am not for the war in Iraq nor am I against it. I most certainly support our troops and mourn with those who have suffered loss because of the war. I am appalled by press reports of our government’s lack of support for these men and women and their families when they do come home wounded and/or emotionally scared. But that as well, is another story.

I guess you can begin to see that simple truths don’t often remain simple. Somehow in living everyday, we make them more obtuse and difficult to understand and wrap our heads around.

When Jesus was arrested in the garden, one of the disciples cut off a slave’s ear with his sword. I am reminded of Jesus’ reply: “Put your sword back into its place; for all those who take up the sword shall perish by the sword.”

Seems simple enough until we read the third chapter of Ecclesiastes.

In Ecclesiastes 3:1-12 we are told that:

There is an appointed time for everything.
And there is a time for every event under heaven–

A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.

And now I am sorely afraid that I have really gotten myself into a frying pan if not the very fire itself. Yet in reading this last passage we can surely say the writer was simply stating the obivous—not necessarily the good and pleasing and perfect will of God in the earth.

And now having said all that—I can say with confidence that we are not going to win the battle that surrounds us on every side by cutting off anybodies ear. A simple statement—a simple truth—on a very not-so-simple Christmas eve 2007.

May your day be blessed. And your ride a long one.