Christmastime

The Nativity by C.S. Lewis

Among the oxen (like an ox I’m slow)
I see a glory in the stable grow
Which, with the ox’s dullness might at length
Give me an ox’s strength.

Among the asses (stubborn I as they)
I see my Saviour where I looked for hay;
So may my beastlike folly learn at least
The patience of a beast.

Among the sheep (I like a sheep have strayed)
I watch the manger where my Lord is laid;
Oh that my baa-ing nature would win thence
Some wooly innocence!

Slow, stubborn, and the tendency to stray - so much of my personality is found in this circle of animals, but thankfully redemption of these traits is found within the manger that they are gathered around...

An experiment in limitations

Professor Marsh says that limitations inspire creativity. If there are no boundaries, then our Muse becomes overwhelmed by the possibilities. In the name of productive procrastination (what final projects?), this is a short story less than 100 words:

My eyes followed rows of heavy trees anchored in the steep hill below, then glanced at the stranger beside me. The cold wind teased his clothes: worn jeans, a frayed denim jacket, and fingerless gloves. Dangling below us, my new parabolic skis glistened condescendingly beside his ancient wooden ones.

“It’s good to be skiing again,” he remarked, flicking greasy hair over his shoulder.

“Again?” I casually inquired.

“Yeah, I was in prison for three years.”

“Oh…”

“Pushed a guy off a Ferris wheel.”

My arm curled tightly around the pole between us, and he laughed.

“Had you, didn’t I?”

Fragment

Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

-Raymond Carver

Some people change your life just by their presence in it.

Yoga

While holding my legs crossed in turtle pose at the morning session in Yogalife Studio, the instructor softly said, "Breathe deeply as we hold this pose and meditate on what life was like when we also were turtles."

A Yoga Haiku

My laugh breaks silence
Bringing disapproval for
Turtles are quiet.

An experiment in poetry

This might be horrible of me, but I think everybody has experienced this at some point in their life with a certain memorable person...

Lost

Bore, n.: A person who talks when you wish him to listen.
- Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

Avoiding eye contact, I charted my path to the door
but the waves always part for him and he glided easily
through the crowd to my side, a contented sigh falling
from his mouth to the floor like a ship dropping anchor.

Mundane comments swelled monotonous stories,
and as my feet foundered on a rolling deck of
disorienting drivel, the bile began rising in the back
of my throat. My distress flares fell sputtering, unnoticed.

He permitted a pause to try his drink, but i was already lost
in the fog of his fulminations, helpless spectator as the evening
ran aground on rocks of ridiculous rhetoric.
Politely excusing myself, I lowered a lifeboat into

roiling waters

and rowed

awkwardly

away.

-RAH

Lessons from Hemingway

Hemingway is a master of subtle symbolism, and his novel "The Sun Also Rises" is no exception. It ends with Brett crying in Jake's arms and still unreconciled to the separation of their paths. She says, "Oh, Jake, we could have had such a damned good time together." This last scene is linked to the title which describes dawn - the time of day where lovers part. And although at first glance the story appears hopeless, I think the lives of Hemingway's characters point to the evil under the sun that Solomon said was common to man: he can have all the wealth and honor to be desired, but without the gift of enjoyment it all turns to vanity. Contrary to modern beliefs that we should seek for more of what gives us pleasure, perhaps we should look for the ability to enjoy what we already have.

Titles and Forgiveness

In the short story "The Paring Knife" by Michael Oppenheimer, the narrator always refers to his life partner as "the woman I love." I think he refrains from using the regular titles of 'wife' or 'girlfriend' or 'lover' because even though they are all socially acceptable, they are still slightly shaded with connotations of possession and objectification. There is no possessive or defining adjective, and all the vulnerability falls on his shoulders. She is simply the woman he loves. While cleaning under the refrigerator one day, he finds a small paring knife and remembers the story that goes with it: a serious fight, a frustrated swipe at the contents on the kitchen table, and their reconciliation.

"I was about to ask the woman I love if she remembered that incident when she came in from the next room and without saying a word, picked up the knife from the table and slid it back under the refrigerator."

The paring knife seems similar to an argument - relatively small, yet sharp enough to cut a relationship in half. However, it's been forgotten, collecting dust under the fridge instead of being used every day. When the woman that he loves slides the knife back to it's dark corner, she's telling him that only their reunion after the fight should be remembered. Perhaps love without titles or restraints results in the strong return of affection that eludes the grasp of love with restrictions.

Light

I wonder how many destinies aren't fulfilled from carrying a burden of failure, and conceding to a spirit of fear that holds trust and faith at a distance? Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of being different, fear of loss...from Adam hiding from God in the garden, to Peter running after the cock crows, there are Biblical examples of fear displacing trust and faith - but we are told to 'fear not' and to believe that God is in control - whether living our dying, our destiny of being light in the midst of darkness will happen. Jesus doesn't tell his followers to become light, but that they are the light. He knew their stories, and He knows ours as well - our failures, fears, and pride that rise up in accusation, yet God must see us differently than we view ourselves because He sees light in us.
I want to have the strength of mind to resist fear, and to live honestly in the midst of deception, and joyfully in the midst of anxiety. This is the calling. Live the light in the midst of darkness.

St. James

In avoiding church lately, I know that I am running away from my Reformed upbringing, but where am I headed?

I found a sanctuary while I wait: Taize at St. James Cathedral. Below is a reflection I wrote after my first time there with Brie and Spiro...

Be Still

Architects guide eyes heavenward with vaulted ceilings,
while meditative silence gives birth to reflection.
Amidst inward questioning and doubt, an acapella voice descends
summoning antiphonal remembrance of common ground:
Sing out my soul and glorify the Lord who sets us free.
Then silence
followed by words that seep into wooden pews, and
the congregation stands united with saints centuries old
in Latin song:
Da pacem domina, da pacem O Christe in diebus nostris.
Grant us your peace O Lord, may it fill all our days.
Softly choir and congregation with deep organ
swell and declare that Jesus is the Christ.
Now and forever.
Amen.

The Locks

Looking out over the railing of the Ballard Locks, I can read clearly the sign that commands "No wake." Boats gather without argument, a smooth flow of motion.

I want to post a sign in my channel. Struggling against the waves of conformity in my family leave me weather beaten and ready to dock anywhere else but here.

Thoughts

I want to be awake, to feel God nudge me from a deep and weary sleep.

I've been taught that listening to the Spirit means hearing everything wrong about me. A spiritual life exacts a scouring of my inner-self for hidden motives and secret sin. But I am tired of trying to look at my reflection without flinching at the ugliness of me. Melancholy brushes its rough texture across my memory.

Can thoughts change? Can I see my life as abundant? I push against the lies that kill, the thoughts which drive us to sleep during daylight. Today I will silence all verbs except those that invite me to swim, splash and kiss.


Pull me from dark dreams.

Awake, my soul.

One of my favorite poets

Notes from the Other Side:

I divested myself of despair
and fear when I came here.

Now there is no more catching
one's own eye in the mirror,

there are no bad books, no plastic,
no insurance premiums, and of course

no illness. Contrition
does not exist, nor gnashing

of teeth. No one howls as the first
clod of earth hits the casket.

The poor we no longer have with us.
Our calm hearts strike only the hour,

and God, as promised, proves
to be mercy clothed in light.

-Jane Kenyon

I would like to be on the other side...