a microsecond of time…

….you enter. And, everything changes. The world outside changes. The world inside changes. Time passes without your knowledge. You watch clips of randomly passing lives-

…the old lady who can’t quite keep her teeth in…the old man with sagging pants and a belt flapping down as he walks…the 14 year olds giggling as they pass a boy with the face of Venus, complete with the nearly exploding volcanos…the mother, slouching against the buggy, her eyes tearing, as her two boys run like errant drones into the grocery aisles…the disappointed, hat down, and eyes staring at the floor, glancing up, trying not to make eye contact…and the selfie queen, smiling for her unseen audience, her face painted with too much red, flashing sudden smiles…

and you slow down, because time feels like it has slowed down.

you cross to the right side, passing the corner hospitality cart where a frumpy-but- smiling woman tries to hand you a small plastic container of a mini chicken croissant. she continues, even after  you shake your head, and turn away…an onslaught of clothing carousels threatening, as a faster vehicle rips through the dangling arms and into your way…

…survival. you remember more from “the list,” that crumpled paper lost somewhere in the parking lot…or blown across the berm…until you see…the figure. as much as you desire to look away, you cannot, you must not. like blackened pools with nothing floating on them…they do not stare, they pierce….and you must look, but your mind tells you to turn away…turn away. don’t get involved. this is not my concern.

but it is…you feel it in your gut, the ache, the pain. the well. the tender-pained well. you touch more than a surface. I cannot look away, even if…but you do not want to. you see her for where she is…the tattered threads at the end of her left coat arm, the scraped lip, the eyes that open too wide for just a second…then close to protect…you are near her, she makes no move to look up. you can hear her breathing. you can feel her breath. like stale tuna. you want to look away. you want to escape, you want to find time again. where is time? it is nowhere. she is here and you cannot look away, because she is pleading. but there are no words in her eyes. so you walk, and turn to look, and the figure is not there…she is walking away.

….and you drive back into the sunshine, four grocery bags on the back seat.

as night invites himself in, the lights dim, and you find yourself yawning in the mirror. I have bags under my eyes. my eyes. you notice the gray hair on your shoulder, and wipe it off. time slows. you see beyond the mirror. you see her sitting on that bench, the coat, the arm. you see her walk away, never turning back to look. but you look. in your dream now. in the waking night. in your thoughts now.

I cannot forget.

and as you lay down, curled up in blankets, all alone, you pray…because it is all you can do. and somewhere in the distance, separated by space, not by time, another figure awake on her bed…unseen tears on her face…

in a microsecond of time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ponnd lyffe

have you ever met an individual capable of explaining the scientific processes which enable the whatever-system of a pond to not only exit, but to thrive, during the most breathtakingly dull phases of winter weather?

it is as scintillating as a songbird singing among the seagulls along a seashore on a unseasonally sunny day.

but better.

this is the stuff of dreams, lads, the fiber of intellect that moves men (and that other, softer and much more lovely sex) to become rational geniuses…to transcend the lowly horizontal thinker with a reason so pure, so devoid of subjectivity, as to be on a plane above the clouds…

but better.

it is the stuff of “I started this company with a hamster cage and a $4 dollar bill” legend…almost as good as being the shadow of Stephen Hawking (whose shadow, during a particularly shadowy kind of day, might be as brilliant as to handle a conversation with Siri, where he can convince her that she is a missing link in the evolutionary chain).

but better.

these scientific masters of the visually-unseen often pass beyond the realm of the low- information-citizen through government-funded discoveries. it is because of these superior intellectual funds that such geniuses are able to describe the world of pond scum with such accuracy that they do not have to sample any objects from that pond life. but this is just a fraction of their intellectual prowess…for their real talent lies in their dead-on description of all phases of the male brain, and the more stimulating female brain, even though their own lives are spiritually-challenged.

but better

so spiritually-challenged that these rational thinkers base their evidence on faith in an irrational premise, which completely invalidates every work that they might produce for human consumption. which is why, as of this moment, I have never met a scientist who had as rational a theory on life, let alone pond scum, as a 12 year old girl obsessed with her butt-crack (not to be confused with good craic). in fact, I have met a few pre-pubescent students who had a better understanding of the facts of life than a high school science teacher with 20 years experience filling the minds of dumbed-down youth. I have even heard a five year old describe the meaning of life with more spiritual sense than a Nobel Prize winning author…

but even better…

leave pond life a mystery…because life should have some mysteries, or it would not be quite as exciting. and so, while I appreciate the attempt by some to try to explain the behavior of pond scum, policemen, women, and tadpoles…

it is better to go out and live life to the fullest and ignore those who produce massive amounts of mental manure in the form of scientifically funded government research studies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mister Congeniality

i have never won an award for candor, comedy, or confusion…but i am sure that my followers might consider me for a “Mister Congeniality” award. Or, maybe not. 

You see, trying to live a life as a disciple of Jesus sometimes ruffles feathers, steps on toes, and irritates people. But, to be fair, I have had my share of pains in the rectal sphere of influence over the course of my life. It has been a rough ride at times, and God has always seen me through or even allowed me to rise above the blazing saddle.

And like a whole lot of other authors on wordpress, I have plenty I could complain about…starting with that lack of a female companion…due to the stupidity of certain members of the opposite gender who will remain nameless, and who, like Mrs Boring, have probably crapped their collective pants over their incredibly obtusely proportioned decision-making skills.  But, I will not dwell in the dungeons of despair. No, I will not sink to the depths of depression. 

No, I have not suffered such terrible troubles that my life is a collected book of woe, a compendium of compromise, or a trilogy of tragedy. In this blessed and wonderful life of mine, I have not ever….

(1) Fallen off a log, hitting my head and forgetting my name…then returning to Salem, looking like another guy and falling in love with the woman my alter ego was married to before I hit my head and forgot everything…and then became a state department spokesman…

(2) Electrocuted my private part “palace” while trying to fix my acid-filled battery because my car stopped in the middle of a turn only lane…

(3) Exploded in spontaneous combustion after ingesting 1,000 tablets of cinnamonn bark extract tablets because they may lower my blood sugar 15%. (But did you know you can save 15% on your car insurance by marrying the GEICO CEO’s daughter?)

(4) Lost consciousness when a 20 ton stack of Jack Links Beef Jerky fell on my head while searching for a missing “teenage stock boy” in the WalMart storage labyrinth (complete with rows of Mogen David wines and the most revolting Sherry and cologne-like Brandy ever to don the shelves of any grocery facility….or, as Alex Trebek might say “What is Catholic Purgatory?”)

(5) Had my fingers eaten by a frothing, two-fanged dog while being chased by a flock of rebellious Amish goats down a one lane mud track beyond a sign painted with the words “Welcome to the Eli E.Y.B.Z Yoder’s”

(6) Been chased by a one-toothed hag around the outside of a 24 X 200 barn, while holding a clipboard and a measuring wheel. 

(7) Sat my buttocks down on a pile of freshly chewed gum because the sign said…

No, lads and lassies…thankfully, I have been spared such audacious trauma… 

 

 

i’d rather be alone with God than in love with Ugliness

a heron flew off. and a red-wing black bird. and even two baby foxes slipped into thick brush to hide from my camera.

….after several attempts, this picture of purple columbines was the only one in focus. and that was the kind of day it was.

                                                  the kind that try men’s hearts

and thank God for spring beauty- some kind of beauty. i am tired of ugliness. multiplying like ivy. poison ivy.

….sure i know my own shortcomings. but they are not signs of unfaithfulness. they are usually signs of too much excitement. when i talk too much. i write much better.

meanwhile, i see and read reflections of self-proclaiming tender hearts, all to a one beautiful looking to men, hanging their allegiance to sins so contrary to God, like clothes on a laundry line…

                    the kind that rarely come clean in the warming sun because they are too stained to be pure again

it is obvious to me. but not to them. 

some clothes that will never come clean are stained with…divination (horoscopes, ouija boards)…Yoga (in deeper teaching it is mind control – not controlled by God’s spirit, but controlled by a demonic spirit)…satanic religious influence- the force, “natural balance,” neoPaganism, relic-centered idolatry, narcissism (selfie queen), indulgence in stimulants or depressants…and on and on until i feel nauseus.

i fail. i fall. i repent.

they fail, they cling to evil instead of good. they do not repent, they are too arrogant…lovers of self, lovers of pleasure rather than God.

that is the difference. and that is why i am so disappointed. because the ones i am speaking of are stubborn.

i am still waiting for the one who knows love….but the only one who can know love must know the creator of love in a relationship that is pure with Him. if she is flirting with spiritual unfaithfulness, she can talk all she wants…but she will get

                                                        Talk To The Hand

until she changes.

 

all the pain in the world

if i was to walk the strand of that Jersey shore once again, my toes burning but deepening into the sand, i could not walk it without knowing…sensing…heart pain. the same type of pain i read about here on wordpress…every night i read new posts…

all the pain in the world-

rests in your presence-

             those imprints in the sand beside me

             that scent flowing from your hair

             those waves pulling the moon of my heart

but like seaweed lingering along the shore

drying, dying, in the whispers crossing over-

i will not live that again

no, i will not live in that pain;

victorious.

all the pain in the world

pages, posts, pictures…eyes-

                  sunken deep in the ashes of smoldering fires

                  rooted in strained remnants of sleepless nights

                  wandering reflections slipping into random writings

for the face that would never look upon another

for the heart that would ever spend her diamonds

and leave open the wounded soul upon a stone

bloodied, beaten, broken by the will of one-

not yet victorious.

Check out my humor blog at      

                      http://www.mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com

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.

it’s a mad world after all

if i had three personalities, i might resemble Blogland. Tantrums from hell, mega-selfie posts, mentally and emotionally compromised confessions, and even goats on parade…they are all here. 

i took a turn, took a spin, found myself driving…oh so carefully…through fields of mental mines from “life,” “religion,” and all sorts of other previously unexplored venues, to find that the world is indeed in trouble. but not from the Russians, neo-Nazis, terrorists, or clandestine shadow governments. No, the world is in trouble because of selfishness, wickedness, and mental pollution- (in other words- sin, deception, and self-deception…and, of course, sin)

truly, although i do like to analyze single issues, the reality of the multitudinality of personal problems here in blogland makes me wonder how many white coated shrinks the world may need on a never-ending contingency basis. i read one post that sounded like a couch confession, complete with overtures of “people please analyze me, i am sick.” i read another that was the most self-centered piece I have ever read, and that includes the story of Narcissus. One twenty-something moaned about a lack of sex for a week, but then expressed a hatred of honesty in relationships. And it goes on and on, like a really bad informercial marathon.   

when i went to “Christianity,” i found so many posts that had nothing to do with Christianity at all. It appears some people must think we are stupid, or may just be stupid themselves, to post a Hindu blog or yoga piece on “Christianity.” It is like anaylzing condiment bottles when asked to choose an apartment to rent. Or, taking an electric blanket out on a hot date. (ok, i couldn’t resist the humor). in short- or long, bloggers who do such things make themselves look stupid…and none of us want to look stupid…right? Right? 

perhaps it is just a sign that tripolar is becoming the norm, now that bipolar is very too trendy (like when every doctor that didn’t know what was wrong with you diagnosed you with…fibromyalgia…the late 20th century/early 21st century answer to everybody’s favorite disease…consumption) Or, is it that so many people are living webdream lifestyles, caught in a self-centered fantasy world encouraged by the “like” button? I wonder…

can i have a piece of your mind? oh, not a large slice, just a thought…and please no gray matter on the keyboard…thank you.

Mr and Mrs Boring and The Tangled Tango

He had a flair for vacuum cleaners….

This blog post is at my new companion blog for fiction at THE ADVENTURES OF MR AND MRS BORING

mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com/2014/01/19/mr-and-mrs-boring-and-the-tangled-tango

I just noticed wordpress seems to be screwed up right now. The link works on my edit but  when you try to go from this post to the next, it brings you right back here. Uh, wordpress, if you read this, please fix it. We all love you, but we will love you much more if…you would only fix our likes and stats. 

how do you speak love?

Talk is cheap…but love is priceless…

you can talk all day, and say a whole lot of nothing…except that you are focused on yourself. what are you doing to say you love someone? are you saying it through words and actions? 

Faith without works is dead, the Bible says. It is the same with love.

stop. look around you. who are you not telling and showing love to today/tonight? is it because you only do one of the two…literally a half-hearted effort?

God is speaking to you now. will you choose to do what The-Love-That-Is-Greater-Than-Any-Love says?

Priestly Serious

I have been called “hilariously funny and priestly serious” by someone who has never met me in person. She has read these posts well because I am quite “the complex man” to some of you. And many of you have not known my writing for long, and as a way for you to catch up, read some excellent posts, or just get to know me better…I have decided to give you a randomly ordered “Best Priestly Serious Posts of 2013.”

The following are 10 Priestly Serious Posts:

1. The Lonely Snow  

https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/01/31/the-lonely-snow           

2. Seeing The Other Side    

https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/03/22/Seeing-the-other-side

3. I Am Being Restored

https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/04/29/I-am-being-restored

4. Bottle-Collected Briste

          https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/10/28/bottle-collected-briste

5. Covering The Dull-Grey Gravel Beneath

https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/11/04/covering-the-dull-grey-gravel-beneath

6. My Peace and The Presence

      https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/11/16/my-peace-and-the-presence

7. A Tangled Reach Toward The Sun

https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/a-tangled-reach-toward-the-sun

8. Tango for Two- Solomente Mi

  https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/11/24/tango-for-two-solomente-mi

 9. When You can’t Love Yourself 

https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/07/27/when-you-cant-love-yourself

10. I’ve Counted Up The Cost And You Are Worth It    

  https://thelostkerryman.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/ive-counted-up-the-cost-and-you-are-worth-it