no more time to waste

Evil has a long leash, and he is running about like a dog with rabies, threatening to pull the stake out of the yard…longing to tear into something, anything…to gnash his teeth, to taste the frenzy…heart and mouth full of impatience…he senses a time to fulfill, to satisfy.

he is easily discernable to the naked eye, yet so many stumble in the darkness that Evil nips at the heels of passersby. they forget the sounds of deception, these naked men and women…naked in thought and deed…so they are easily bruised at the back.

how long will you sleep, oh sluggard?

how long will you whittle away the day?

how long until you open your eyes?

the days are here, there is no sign that they are not. it is a useless question, to question the times and seasons when the season is obvious. when the sun sets, you call it night, when the sun rises you call it day. how then can you not see the sun going down when it is fading in the west?

there are more than wars and rumors of wars. more than plagues, fires, and pestilence. more than lawlessness about every turn of the corner.

this is our time- we are born for these last days. the time to wait is over. the time to waste is past. the time for being deliberate is now.

deliberate in selfless love

deliberate in boundless hope

deliberate in fear-shattering faith

Stalking the not-so-wild turkey

a long, long time ago in a state of mind far, far away, things were different. people were different. even animals were different. and some of it was good. people knew to throw out expired food, smart people did not converse using infantile slang like “bae” or “vacay,” and the pope was not as left-wing as your dumbest presidential candidate.

yes, there were still clowns, and yes, many of them were in politics, but the woods were not filled with scary clowns during election cycles.

other cycles, like menstrual cycles, and motor cycles, were not wildly popular with those who did not have to mess with them.

back then, you could order a mess of beans, or go foraging for a mess of wild onions armed with your STALKING THE WILD ASPARAGUS. you might entertain romantic ideas about a creature in the woods, without being relegated to a fake news channel.

but you might be relegated to other things….like being picked last when it came to choose players for dodge ball, an aggressive sport Snowflakes would not survive during the long wintry process of choosing sides.

choosing to procrastinate in school was much easier then. the “ubiquitous they” did not inflict students with multiple remedial classes when they forgot to do their homework, lost their essay in the lawnmower, or simply decided to be an anarchist for a six weeks grading period.

still, not everything within that period was peachy keen. if you were ugly, you were told you were ugly, and to what extent. if you were pretty, every last single guy in school wanted to shove anonymous love notes into your locker (from a “secret admirer”) because as a young man it was not as painful a process to imagine yourself waking up to that face every morning.

but, there were only so many pretty girls…and someone…usually a nice guy like you…was left with the turkeys. not wild turkeys, mind you, but the kind of turkeys only a turkey could look at every morning. and you knew that if you married that turkey, you would wake up every morning to…ugly.

and hormones being what they were…back in the day before video games took away the testosterone…even a turkey had a hope, as long as she did not stumble and fall while trying to balance her weight as she clucked forward.

so the boy who was always picked last ended up being chosen last in the turkey trot of high school life, despite his efforts to avoid the tournament completely and claim celibacy and a longing for the monkhood, ended up face to face with a not-so-wild bird who teetered and tottered. Feeling sorry for the bird, the boy, feeling like a pinball wizard, decided to take a walk on the not-so-wild side.

alas, the poor hormones, completely befuddled, failed to see the truth right before their eyes. and before taming them, the boy overshot his pinball and tilted the game. the turkey saw that she was indeed ugly, but she had a great personality. unlike  the other turkeys that fought gravitational pull, she stopped eating everything in sight, became the face every boy wanted to wake up to, and ended up a beautiful princess.

so…the boy went back to the back yards in search of chickory, the woods in search or morels, and the old barn yard…in search of the wild asparagus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Givers, Takers, and Giver-Fakers

years ago, while i was working in an area not too far from Cleveland,  I met a man who had lived and worked for several years among some of the great rock musicians and rock bands of his time- from Paul McCartney to Eric Clapton. He had an extensive collection of memorabilia, including a number of signed guitars musicians had given him.

i forgot about the time as he told me the stories behind each instrument, funny things that had happened to him, and some of the nicer people he had worked with. As we walked toward my vehicle, he stopped me.

“There are two kinds of people in this world- givers and takers. I have seen a lot of takers, and i have seen a few givers.”

when i went home that evening, what he said resonated within. and looking back, i can say the same- i have met a lot of takers, and a few givers. and i have met people who gave of themselves so much they lured their prey into ruin, taking everything they could.

and some do not even realize they are takers. they may give, give, give….but they do it to get back even more. love is not so. love is unselfish, love is kind, it does not covet. it is difficult to be a taker and not covet; it is a taker’s nature to covet.

while i cannot recall Jesus ever using such words- within the Bible- the Lord encourages us to give. Giving is at the heart of the gospel itself. Jesus gave Himself as a sacrifice. What greater gift is there than laying down your life?

and while there are many takers, i have met mothers who  lay down their lives daily, giving their all to raise their child with all the love within them. i have met men and women who have persevered through hardship to remain one in marriage- till death do them part. and i have met those who kept promises, giving when nothing was received, awaiting a heavenly reward, steadfast to the end.

on the other hand, the evil one comes to kill, steal, and destroy. the evil one is the ultimate taker. there is a way that does seem right to a person, but it ends in destruction because it does not reflect  the love of the Ultimate Giver who gave His life.

 

 

 

the master of the mirror?

are you living a life to touch the hearts of others, to bring compassion to the downtrodden, or are you living like you are looking in the mirror, in love with the image?

where has selfless love gone? where is kindness?

when I spent my days driving around looking for the lost lamb, strung out, on the edge of death, where were you?

meeting with lattes, loud music, and laughter…while another broken heart weeps bitter tears?

will you walk where the lonely walk? will you be the one you were created to be?

someday, you too will be all alone, no one to hold your hand, lying in wait for the darkness to come cover, blue-black creeping up, from toes to the center of your eyes, until it tingles and every image dissolves, and nothing here remains in your memory. will you know what to say when you wake from that sleep? will you see your reflection in the one who wakes you from that sleep?

you are not the master of time. you are not even master of the mirror.

it is time to give up selfishness. this life is not all about you. wake up…before it is too late.

 

 

 

 

the love inside

rusting metal windowpanes…brick-face dingy with black dust and decay…entry doors open to the rain…the roof sagging with the weight of fifty years…wishbone trees growing out of the second and third floor classrooms, like old children reaching now-tired arms toward the  threatening sky…the blocky building, like a cold shell discarded after metamorphosis…so sad, so troubling, so much like a generation lost in their own neglect, their own brokenness, their own rusting lives…

and i ponder their mascara-stained faces as i stand in the parking lot taking photos, capturing time and space within a box…and ageless tears…before i discover they are mine, splashing from my face in the stiff pollen-filled wind.

there is a sea in the wind, and it has washed over this place, leaving debris between the white lines. the fields are raging, and waves of weeds blow and ebb, and i am tossed ashore, washed up against…closer and closer to the edge….to the edge of myself.

and i toss and turn

and i toss and turn

so i tuck in my camera, away from the light, and walk past the edge…into the arms of the present…into the arms of the possible…and reject the rain…

and it may toss, but i will not turn

i will not run

for the world is waiting

the love inside

 

 

 

 

 

Three years and no banana

Today marks my three year anniversary. Three years writing on wordpress. Three years since my last date…and yes, I am, alas, terribly eligible. Three years since the day I ate my first organic banana. Three years since I last brushed my teeth with non-biodegradable toothpaste. Three years since I wore a pair of silk boxer shorts beneath my dress pants. Three years since I last ate buffalo burgers…and, three years since i bathed “Creek-I am not fat in these woods-style” in a proper frigid mountain river.

I would write poetry to that river, but I suppose that would be rather cold, since it was not written to a love who could actually get her arms around me. In this increasingly silly world of sexual preferences…like choosing from a lineup of toasters, I cannot fathom taking selfies with a river, caressing her waves, and holding out hope…so long…that she would respond with wet kisses.

Anyway, it has been so long that…would I remember how to pucker up? Would I remember that my lips were not supposed to bite the top of the woman’s lip like so many really bad acting scenes in old black and white movies?

I could log off now and fade away into the hundred shades of grey…but I am just getting started.

In the meantime, I’ll wish you happy Valentine’s Day…from one without a Valentine.

your white flowers wait for you

To my unknown love, wherever she is

 

your white flowers wait for you

among common leaves.

 

did you know they would be there for you

beneath the wild awakening trees?

 

my boots hurt my feet

while walking this path

to see your flowers 

majestic white wonder

a silent witness of hope and faith

 

and i may wait for a long, long time

but the flowers won’t wait forever.

 

 

 

 

 

flowers dying before their days are done

three people i knew died recently- two younger than me, one a year older. one woman i remember as a teenager, the thin little girl with coal black eyes, a few years behind me in school- vibrant, vivacious, the very picture of youth…yet now dead way before her 50th birthday.

i thought about it, turning one way, then another, wrapping myself like an burrito in the blankets. sleep eventually came, more like an echo of rest than a deep drink of peace…as grey slipped through my kitchen curtains.

…and morning came yet again, and a new day dawned for the living…

but a few days have passed, and in their passing, i am even more steadfast now than ever to live life as deliberately as possible. because it occurs to me that the three people i knew who died did not seem to have that spark about them…and i find myself still slightly amazed that such people could waste so much, so many moments on mundane thinking, mundane loving, and mundane passion.

why think about trivial things that will burn? why concentrate on what does not encourage one who is down, does not save the one who is lost, and does not give life to the heart within you?

why love with a shadow, instead of a whole? why withhold the very essence of what caused God to create us in the first place- a love so beyond understanding in this realm that it still remains a partial mystery?

when i look at living with passion, it is that which comes from selfless love and compassion- viewing life with a mind’s eye that every moment is precious and all are priceless. but – if we do not have this within, what good are we to those around us?

and how could we reflect the glorious love of God, who, going against his own nature, offered a way to have a right relationship forever with His created, living that passionate life here and beyond…the ultimate love?

so it is with a more sober heart i reflect on the recent deaths of three i have known. three, not one. dying like a flower before their time…dying from a lack of nutrients and the water of life….because each of them publicly lived a life that did not reflect the love of God.