Memento Mori

Change

2006-10-11T00:06:00.000-07:00

Just a quick announcement...

This blog will be changing it's name and moving to The Anvil Chorus. It can also be found through my website PipeRain.com as well as a forum of the same name.

For a time, I may crosspost things here but the focus will be at The Anvil Chorus and eventually this spot, like all things, will wither and die. To those who care to follow along, thank you. To those who do not, it has been good sharing my dark little corner of the world with you.

Now go away.

The Missing

2006-10-07T22:45:00.000-07:00

It's just the age
It's just a stage
We disengage
We turn the page.
"Turn The Page"
-RUSH

It is said that what is called "the spirit of an age" is something to which one cannot return. That this spirit gradually dissipates is due to the world's coming to an end. In the same way, a single year does not have just spring or summer. A single day, too, is the same. For this reason, although one would like to change today's world back to the spirit of one hundred years or more ago, it cannot be done.
Ghost Dog : The Way of The Samurai

I wonder if when the the sun sets, it also rises?

I have a place I have spent a fair amount of time with friends that appears that it may have reached the end of its age. This is not the first time I have seen this happen. People meet, disparate waters poured into a common container, and the convolutions and separation begins. Sediment falls and clarity rises. By all estimation, this separation should start of its own volition and natural processes should continue and accelerate this process until completion. Human nature contravenes this however.

Human nature rarely raises us to our greatest heights, but rather propels to its lowest lows. Against this trend we place people in positions of authority, watchdogs if you will. This is a necessary function of humanity and it is universally true. However, those who are put in these positions must stand unwavering vigil or the inorexable grind of entropy will not allow the sediment to settle, and will in fact agitate the waters such that the sediment stays in suspension thereby souring the water for all.

I fear that in this new place, my latest meeting place, the entropy effect is taking hold and I don't know that any will stand against it. As a people we seem attracted to "drama". This grows out of an inflated sense of vainglory that distorts the importance of what we do and say and causes us to "Strain at gnats while swallowing camels". Perhaps I have even allowed myself to succumb to the draw of the online ego, believeing that my own little grain of sand on the beach of humanity bears some remarkable atrribute, elevating it's importance above others.

A few shrill voices have been allowed to become an overbearing and overwhelming cacophony of arrogance and rancor that dress themselves in rags of superiority and false propriety that they view as the robes of royalty. To me this is a cloying, sickening, parody of intellect and amenity that is really indecorum and is used as a cudgel of exclusion. Like so many vices of humanity it corrupts all it touches and once it has consumed and destroyed it moves on; always hungering and thirsting but never slaked, never satisfied. It is a rabid hunger that never stops until its host is reduced to madness and finally death.

Like any disease, no one is protected without eradicating it. This comes to the crux of the matter. Evil in any form is never stopped unless it is utterly destroyed. So often we are unwilling to pay the price in the short term to gain a benefit in the long term. We act afraid to step on toes while we are beaten bloody by that which is against us, all the while effectively mouthing innanities about right and wrong. The fact of the matter is we cannot say we have no rules and there is only right. The proof of the rightness is in the crafting and administration of rules. If either is failed, there is no right.

So I find myself at this place. There are many in this online meeting place that I respect, admire and enjoy the company of. However, if the decay runs unchecked the darkness will blot out the light, and I will know that this age has ended. If this comes to pass I will suffer a great loss, but this too is the way of life. Everything dies. The page will turn and the book will read on, but the words will never be the same. A great number of voices will be silenced in my life that I will miss the music of.

For the time being, I step aside. I watch, I wait, I hope and I wonder.

Damage Inc.

2006-09-03T13:17:00.000-07:00

Why do we as a culture so aggresively pander to, and market, our own downfall? Do we not give any thought whatsoever to the end-state result of our words, deeds, attitudes and actions?

I saw a bumper sticker the other day.

I don't give a whole lot of credence to bumper stickers, those odd little tidbits of ideologies that get plastered on cars, guitars, dorm rooms etc. I have long wanted to have a bumper sticker that says "You can't find truth on a bumper sticker", but that would defeat the purpose. By and large bumper stickers are just a low tech version of the internet for folks. It seems to give folks the idea that they can say all manner of ridiculous things, knowing that there will be little consequence.

So some tree-hugging dirt worshipper had the usual gamut of peacenik and enviro-whackostickers covering the back of thier Subaru Smoke Screen Generator at a stoplight the other day, one of which piqued my interest. It said "Happiness is the highest goal", which is a lame ripoff of Aristotle.

Are we really to the point where the vacuousness of a statement like that is accepted as worthy of being permanently displayed? Let alone considered wise?

Happiness is surpassed only by lust as a fleeting feeling, and if that is someones life goal, they are in for a serious wake up call down the line.

Come to think of it, the alarm clock for our society is about to go off...

Hey Dad, What do you think about your son now?

2006-08-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

We all carry our demons with us. They live in our past, our present as we remember them. They take the form of regrets, unfulfilled aspirations, dreams long dead yet still remembered.

The classic example is Harry Chapin's "Cat in the Cradle". So many of us hear that song and see our fathers in it, but are we the sons who have left our fathers behind? Today I found myself there.

I have said before that my father and I did not have the smoothest of times in my growing up years. But does that excuse me not picking up the phone? My own daughter is less than three months from my arms, will I untie the ties that bind from her? I pray no, and fear yes. Every year Dad and I promise each other that we will go take in a ballgame, and here we are, the season days from being gone, and I haven't seen him in months.

"I'd love to see you, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job's a hassle and kids have the flu
But it's sure nice talking to you, Dad
It's been sure nice talking to you"

I have broken my own heart.

Vanity, all is vanity

2006-07-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

Where do we get the badges? How does one go about getting issued such a large portion of self-absorption? Why does your experience, albeit totally unrelated to mine, somehow take precedent over my own? Why is it that so many think that by cloistering themselves in a school or profession, they are able to tell me how to do my job?

I swear, if one more attorney, professor, psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist or self-proclaimed "College Graduate" tells me how to do my job, or how my business runs based on the sum total of the experiences of their avocation or supposed education; I may spend a long time in jail.

Why do certain professions seem to have such a universally dim view of others experience or knowledge? What is it that gives them carte blanche to denigrate my knowledge, my experience and my education, while expecting me to hold theirs in the highest esteem. Why should I believe what they say when it flies in the face of all reason and experience, except of course, to them?

These are the same ones who demand preferential treatment of their needs to the exclusion of others. Apparently whatever they are doing is so important that everyone else must just step aside and let the elect come through. Have these people no connection to reality? Is the educational process so self deluding that these people really do think they are above all others?

I have had just one too many people tell me things that are in direct contradiction to the observable reality around us, yet who expect me to believe them above what we can both plainly see.

I suppose the bottom line is, if you are going to pay me to do a job, don't get upset at me simply because you don't understand what it is I do, or how it is done. Further, don't insult me, impugn my knowledge or intelligence, or denigrate my work simply out of your ignorance. To do otherwise is to show yourself no less than an incompetent ass.

Its almost too much for one lowly, uneducated, obviously misinformed, woefully ignorant person to comprehend.

Can't say it any better

2006-05-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

Time Has Come Today

2006-05-02T23:04:00.000-07:00

Today's post comes courtesy of Teffertoes.

There is a report circulating of a young boy beaten severely by a gang of students of another race. Before you jump on the usual "race card" bandwagon, it was a white boy and a gang of Hispanic children. He tried to walk away and declined a physical confrontation three times.

But that is not my point. The aftermath is the point.

The family is questioning whether legal action should be pursued. This incident happened during school hours, on school grounds. I believe the answer is unequivocally YES! The family is questioning whether the son can stand the consequences of doing what is so obviously right and true. Yes we must stand against that which is wrong, regardless of the cost. Can we afford not too?

These things happen because we, the good people in the world have stood by for so long fearing the response of all that is bad. We have become cowards on the field of battle. We are afraid of putting our head above the parapet, afraid of taking a public stand. How long will we let this go? Will we finally stand firm when it is not our children, but us? Will we finally stand up and say "NO!" when we are beaten and bloodied on the street? Will we pay the price when someone close to us pays the price for our complacency with their life?

So often we try to compartmentalize away discomforting things by marginalizing certain aspects of that which is wrong. "Illegal drug use is wrong, but I won't say anything unless its certain drugs." By doing this we simply incrementalize evil. Invariably, we will allow more and more until we are swallowed by the demons around us. That which is wrong never goes away on its own. If we will not step up, do what needs to be done, regardless of how distasteful it is, we will pay a much greater price than discomfort, public scorn or derision.

Have we become such a weak society that we will not do what is right, regardless of the cost?

Will we unflinchingly pay the price for complacency when that time comes?

I pray we never have to answer that question.

Hatebreed

2006-04-14T22:31:00.000-07:00

Whilst cruising around town in our paroxysmal uber-suburbanite minivan this evening, The Wife and stumbled across yet another truth.

We were talking about the current state of "Race Relations" in these United States. I thought back to when I was in school. When I was attending school, I never new any kids that were different from me, at any type of fundamental level. When I was in elementary school, I lived in a very small town in northern California. We had one family of black Americans in the town. Another family had adopted a Korean boy. I had one black boy and one Korean boy in my class. In sixth grade I remember a great source of befuddlement to all us students. The teachers were trying to explain what "racial discrimination" was and how it was so bad. None of us could understand what it was. In looking back, it wasn't until the concept was introduced to us that I looked at my classmates any differently.

Looking back nearly thirty years I came to the realization that in our society, to a great extent, discrimination is largely taught by those who purport to decry it. In order for it to exist, knowledge of difference must be taught, conversely, if it is never taught, it isn't known. We hear so much carping about how racially divided our nation is, but it seems the only people doing the dividing are the ones who are gaining something creating by the difference. Whether it be to get face time on TV, or gain some sort of subsidy, or the simple power of name recognition.

These same people that say that children know no differences are the ones who are pounding their own prejudices into the children they claim to hold up as an example.

I wonder if those same people look in the mirror at night and truly believe, "It's my fate to hate", for they are indeed breeding a nation of dissolution, discontent and hate.

Meme is a dish best served...

2006-04-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

I swore to Meems that I would exact my revenge for the seeming endless parade of meme's that come my way.

Thus I have spoken, thus it shall be.

Found this at KimBlahg which just may have the best blog, err, "Blahg" title ever.

So here ya go, "Six weird things about me".

(Note first however, that there are far more than six things...)

1) I smoke a pipe. I don't think its all that weird, but most folks seem to. For more info, go here . Conversely, I have never smoked a cigarette.

2) I like shopping. As a guy that seems to be pretty weird too. Not just shopping for tools, firearms or computers either. I can spen hours in a mall with The Wife just wnadering from store to store, and never buy a thing. Well, most stores anyway. Victorias Secret really kinda creeps me out.

3) Winter is my favorite season. Summer, even in Oreogn is just too dang hot, and spring and fall aren't really their own sesons. They just want to be winter or summer. Besides, I really like the rain.

4) I collect monsters. Like the Golem Elijah, Malebolgia, Grave Digger , Zombie Spawn and The Tin Woodman . No particular reason, they just look cool. Plus, a lot of days, I feel like those guys look.

5) I enjoy reading Nero Wolfe mysteries. I found the short-lived TV series on A&E and liked it, so I tried the books. A&E nailed the feel of the books.

6) I really enjoy big band / swing music. I don't know much about it, I can't cite chapter and verse, but it sure is fun to listen to.

So there you have it. And now, a message from our sponser, KimBlahg:

Once you have been tagged (and if you’re reading this blog, I have tagged you) you have to write an entry with 6 weird facts/things/habits about yourself. After the last fact, choose 6 people who you want to tag and list their names (except for this blog, if you’re reading this, you’ve been tagged, sucka!) Then leave a comment that says ‘You are tagged’ on their page telling them to read your blog. (If you haven’t gotten it yet, “YOU ARE HEREBY TAGGED!”)
After YOU get tagged, you have to go back to the blog of the person who tagged you and let them know you have fullfilled your tagging obligation and put up your list of six things. That means you have to come back HERE and let me know you put up a post with your six items.

Pre emptively, I hereby tag the aforementioned Meems, as well as Marc and The Wife.

Thanks for playin'!

Hole in the pocket

2006-04-06T22:43:00.000-07:00

If you were in possession of the most powerful force in the known universe, how would you use it? A power that has raised and struck down men and nations, a power that cuts to the core of any ideology, any idea, any thought, rational or irrational. A power that strikes fear in the hearts of many, and gives great strength to others. A power that each and every one of us can be in possession of, but so often we let languish in the back of our minds and rarely shows its self in our lives.

Why do we so often shortchange truth?

With it, when the forge of life tests us we have everything. Without it, when the fires come, we are burned away and have nothing.

Truth, absolute truth, is so easy for us to acquire in any situation yet we seem to cast it aside at the first sign it will crimp our style. The answers really are that simple. Its the living them out consistently that is difficult. Yet when we choose not to, we treat so great a treasure, so great a power as a simple inconvenience, a buzzing gnat to be swatted away, crushed under the drive to convenience or pleasure.

We expend so much energy engaging in psychological and moral acrobatics to nullify the simple power of truth that we give up the peace that we so desire and wind up far worse off than we would had we simply submitted to that truth and moved on. We reach the end of the road of our lives and have empty hands, empty hearts and have nothing to show but exhaustion and confusion because so long ago we made "easy" choices and refused to deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow where truth leads.

If we do not rest the sum of our existence on truth, we are pushed and pulled by every whim, the cause celebre of the day, and whatever is espoused as "the answer" of the moment, only to be told later that were wrong, uninformed and backward. This simple solution is so foundational to every aspect of our lives.

If we do not choose early on to make a master of true truth, as our days march away we cannot cope with the loss, the change, and the questions we must finally wrestle with, prepared or not.

What's true is not new, and what's new is not true.

Do not let your epitaph be "Mene Mene Tekel Uparsin".

Through a glass darkly

2006-04-04T21:02:00.000-07:00

A world of difference
A world so out of touch
-Kid Gloves
RUSH

Why does a small measure of temporary anonymity seem to always bring out the worst in us, as opposed to the best? As people who engage in online activities, we seem to so rarely have any sense of balance.

We assume an online persona that is at best a marginal shadow of who we really are. To a point, that's a function of the venue. Those whose lives we share online, whether through a blog, an online community, a message forum or whatever are only a shadow of their real selves online. We only project a part of the reality of who we are online. Those who see our lives online don't just see an imperfect reflection of us. We project our wishes and desires onto others online. We want someone to be smart, thoughtful, compassionate, so we project that upon them. If we want someone submissive, sexual, accommodating and desirous, we project that upon them. Regardless of the reality.

People, who in the real world are weak-willed and weak-minded, put up a facade of belligerence and acrimony. They become abusive and belligerent, trying to make up for their own shortcomings that they know so well, but attempt to hide from others. The truly pathetic thing is that anyone with a little perception can see through all this, and when the bullies get called, they act like bullies do, whimpering and snivelling about how they are unjustly accused and abused by others. They mock those who hold to a higher standard of right, and thus further distance themselves from reality.

We fall out of balance , and what is played out in the land of make-believe can become dangerously real. In all aspects of our lives we can do nothing less than strive to live to a higher standard of truth and reality. Sadly it is always easier to take the low road, become someone we don't recognize, and would never want to be, in a make-believe world and then wonder where that person came from in the real world.

Everything is tied together, warp and woof. We cannot escape who we are until we change who we are. That is never easy. Simple, yes, but never easy. Simple in that the decisions must be made. Difficult in that it must be adhered to moment by moment, word by word, choice by choice. Sadly, most will never exert themselves to the extent necessary to make this simple choice a daily reality long enough for it to become a reality of a lifetime.

Ask me how I know.

Hailstorm

2006-03-17T23:15:00.000-08:00

Thanks Meems. No, really.

A hailstorm of burning newts upon you.

However, I have been rather stuck on a few songs lately, so this does give me a good excuse to blather on a bit about them.

Se7en songs I am into right now.

1 ) Fade into you - Mazzy Star. I love this song. Its like the blanket you wrap yourself up in and watch the little rivers of rain run down the window pane on a melancholy late afternoon. Plus it reminds me of The Wife. Powerful in her delicacy, potent in her gentleness, alluring and intruiging, you can never quite put your finger on her or pin her down.

2 ) I Just Want You - Ozzy Osbourne. A truly great love song. This is the song I would write and the video I would produce for The Wife, if I could.

3 ) Via Dolorosa - Undercover. Awesome song. Its all about what it cost, and what it costs to live out your faith. This whole album "Balance of Power" is outstanding.

4 ) The Spirit Of Radio - RUSH. I love the guitar intro on this song. With another hour or so of practice, I'll be able to nail it. The song just has an awesome feel to it. Three guys having fun doing what they want to do, doing it well. Besides, if you look close you can see Neil grin.

5 ) The Analog Kid - RUSH. The soundtrack to my youth. This song exactly captures my feeling from a time gone by, but a feeling that stays.

6 ) London Calling - The Clash. This is what punk became at its finest moments. I miss Joe Strummer.

7 ) Cliffs Of Dover - Eric Johnson. This is what a good guitarst plays like. Unpretentious, and delicious.

The Light & The Dark

2006-03-11T23:05:00.000-08:00

Too many hands on my time
Too many feelings ---
Too many things on my mind
When I leave I don’t know
What I’m hoping to find
When I leave I don’t know
What I’m leaving behind...
-The Analog Kid
RUSH

The last few weeks have been somewhat of a roller coaster for me. I have feared that I will likely lose the light of my life. The Wife has been exhibiting symptoms consistent with Multiple Sclerosis, and the weight of that has been crushing indeed. I don't normally go on and on about things of this nature, at least anywhere other than here, but at one point the weight became too much and it spilled out essentially unbidden at work while talking with a friend and a couple of co-workers. Once the levee broke, it seemed there was no stopping it, until Zack finally spoke up and with a simple and succinct phrase, as is his wont, said "Don't borrow trouble!"

Don't borrow trouble. How simple, and how profound. I do that more often than not. I think we all do. We live in a culture of "bad news". It assaults us at the top and bottom of every hour and precious little of it has any significant consequence to our daily lives. Tradgedies of mind numbing proportion happen in the world evey day that we never hear about, and somehow we manage to get through our days with no knowledge of them. Why should the ones we hear of make any difference? The misery of others becomes a side show that the carnical barkers of the evening news entreat us to look in on with awe, and a certain sense of perverse glee.

So I have spent a few weeks struggling to renege on a loan I should have never taken out. Should that become a reality however, I suppose it will be something that will be dealt with as any other challenge would be. In a way, I almost half expect it. Our lives are guided by The Master Gardner, The Trainer of Souls. When an athlete is struggling with a certain procedure, a trainer will guide the athlete through a series of actions to strengthen the muscles and mind in order to overcome that weakness. If I continue to borrow trouble, I may just wind up burdened under a load of debt so great that I have no choice but to turn it over to The Almighty Counsellor.

"I pray, if it be thy will however, that this cup pass from me. Nevertheless, not my will but thine be done."

Often it seems, I start these missives with some comment about the dark content contained within, and I suppose if I were to stay true to form, this one should as well. But just as I say that there is a dark side to nearly everything in this life, there is also light.

Last summer The Lord blessed us briefly with a baby. This small life has since gone home and awaits there for us to meet them, and for evil to be blotted from the face of this earth. Once again we have been blest. Should all go well, we will be parents. Sometime late fall or early winter we will hold a small life that for a short time will be ours.

I almost don't know how to feel. Last time was such a shock, then wonderment of it all was nearly overwhelming. I walked about in a daze up to the day we new something was amiss, and that we would never see our child until Heaven. Now it almost seems a given. I kind of miss the suprise. I believe it is there, I think I just need to find it.

For so many years I have wanted to be a father, a daddy. To follow that mad progression from when a baby involuntarily grabs your finger when you put it in their hand, to that small hand reaching up and searching for yours as it tentatively strikes out into the sensory overload of a grocery store, till that hand slips into a baseball glove for the first time, grasps a bicycle handlebar and wobbles off down the street, the same street it will one day drive down, and ultimately drive off to its own home on.

I want to provide the kind of childhood that allows a child to be a child. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I want to see the wonder of this world through a childs eyes. Its so easy to be jaded, and "tough", but to a child, all is new, fresh and clean. I want to see every opportunity provided for a child to see the world as it was intended, not what it has become.

I think and I wonder, the endlessly marching enemy soldiers of doubt and worry continue to assail, but in the midst of it all there is this joy, this hope, and this wonder. I must continue to "Look to the hills, from whence comes my Strength".

I just want to climb those hills with my wife and my child, hand in hand.

Seasons In The Abyss

2006-02-26T20:17:00.000-08:00

In conversing with The Wife an interesting topic came up the other night. We were talking about contentment versus "happiness" in an unpleasant situation and I put forth a side thought to which The Wife said, "Write that down!" so I shall, and expand upon it a bit.

The basic idea is that if we do not learn contentment in the here and now, in the midst of unpleasant circumstances, how will we ever appreciate the finality of a better eternity? Until we learn that contentment is a choice and "happiness" is fleeting we are forever striving to find a better place in life and often looking back on what we supposed at the time to be bad places, and realizing we should have been content.

We spend so much of our lives looking through the lenses of the temporal at eternal things. We confuse trivialities for important issues, and eternal issues behind the facade of the temporal are so rarely exposed for the important things they are. One of the greatest mistakes we can make is allow the incrementalism of the world to invade our perceptions, and cause us to diminsh that which should be foremost for that which should diminish. So we find ourselves getting wrapped up in petty issues of comfort, appreciation of others toward us, accolades, percieved slights and the common tensions of interpersonal relations.

I believe we are often kept in places of discomfort in our lives so that we may learn and grow in them. If we are forever trying to escape to a place of comfort, we never learn and thus look back on years of waste and wonder why we kept ending up in the same scenarios, with just different names on the same characters.

Happiness does not mean contentment, and they are often mutually exclusive. Contentment is however, a sign of maturity, and happiness is so fleeting that is not a valuable measure of anything. Like any good parent our Father desires that we be whole, complete and mature. As a result He would far rather us be content than happy, and will go to any end to teach us so. How much greater our reward will be if we can actually comprehend and appreciate it when we are there.

Time to get on to the friction of the day.

Hidden In Plain View

2006-02-20T19:32:00.000-08:00

As is often the case, tonite we shall look at two points; both brought up by "The Dapper Rapper".

Firstly, why do we pour out heart and soul to near strangers on paper, or on the net, or over phones to folks we have never met? Radio talk shows, newspaper editors, virtual strangers in the workplace, but rarely to the ones closest to us? The ones who know us best?

I believe the answer lies in the question. They know us all too well. They will call us on our selfish fits of ill-temper, our greedy nature played out in our disgust with others. So often the shortcomings in our own selves are mirrored in our dislikes of others. Sadly we shun the work to improve ourselves and simply rail at our own failings that we see modeled by others behaviors.

"Steely-eyed outside, to hide the enemy within".

Its far easier to decry and degrade others than it is to look into the darkness of our own hearts and correct through discipline and perseverance our own sad states.

Likewise, we whine to others about things they have no real perspective or insight on in our lives because we feel reasonably assured that they will not speak to the root of the matter and call us out when we so desperately need it. Even more pathetically, we make half hearted attempts at half-truths about our lives, shielding our fragile egos from the scalpel of brutal honesty. Thus we buy a worthless absolution and caravan on our merry way down a path of destruction, laying waste about us in a glib state of false justification because we grasp desperately at the slender thread of salved conscience.

I know this is true, I have done it myself.

Secondly, "Question, how'd you get so dark?"

Fair enough. I got where I am from a variety of places. I have walked some very dark paths in my life, yet from there I have found what beauty really is. I have not walked the usual places that people find themselves; drugs, alchohol and "fast living" never appealed to me. Dark places of the mind.

I have seen what the unrestrained human flesh is capable of. "The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye and the pride of life" are terrible masters indeed. The destruction is about us every day, and we have become so inured to it we don't even see it. I suppose it started many years ago when I first noticed the decline of rational thought in our society. People turned away from reason and rationalizing in feeble thought they justified hugely destructive behavior that stretched not just through the breadth of their lives, but scarred the lives of those around them. You see it in everything from people driving habits to how they race to get through a check-out line at a store before anyone else. People gripe because someone else got a larger portion at a restaurant, and are unwilling to let things play out, unwilling to admit that next time they will likely get the larger portion to someone elses smaller.

I see every day the agony in the lives of small children of virtual children; be they children of years or development. The yearning for a loving nurturing childhood, absent the agrravations of parents too selfish to get over their own selfishness and raise their children, rather than just scream empty threats when they simply want love.

This same greed and selfism plays its self out in the larger realm of politics. Mindless programs are spawned to cover the rampant narcissism of a society consumed with self-pleasure and self aggrandizement. We have created a bubble of make-believe that allows us for a time to sow a crop of extirpation, but not reap it. That day will come, and its price will be incalculable. It seems all I can do is stand helplessly by and pray the debris falls far from me and mine.

I grew up in the church, a mainstream Protestant denomination, but I never felt connected to the Christian walk as I heard it spoken of or saw it lived out. I rebelled at the idea that one should check their brain at the door for a couple of hours every Sunday morn, then on the way out of the sanctuary, pick up their brain and carry on through out the week, unchallenged and unchanged. I realized that the human race wrestles daily with big problems, at least from our perspective, but these challenges seemed whitewashed with well coiffed hair, shiny smiles and flippant handshakes. No one seemed willing to even acknowledge tough questions of philosophy, of doubt, of misunderstanding, of pain, of aloneness or any of a myriad of daily torments. I saw face after face that I imagined laid awake nightly in tears crying out for grace, hope and healing but only being offhandedly given insincere platitudes.

I saw people lied to through a doctrine of works, of somehow bootstrapping themselves to the unattainable, and suffering the isolation of being told they needed to "have faith, just believe". I saw people who gave away that which they emminently could not afford of their meager worldly portion in the hope that some cosmic lottery would pay off, and winding up desitute and broken-hearted; angry at a God they had never been truly introduced to. I saw people running up rabbit trails of theology, following false teachers to a supposed panacea of experience that ultimately left them even lower than before once the emotional high wore off. I never saw the reality of the Christian walk portrayed. It was always explained as some way to make everything all better, right here, right now. But I never felt better, not there, not then, not ever. I begged and pleaded to a God I felt wasn't listening to show me a solid core that I could wrap my life around that would sustain me through my own miseries.

Luckily, I found that faith explained through the writings of Francis Schaeffer, who said it was alright to ask the tough questions. In fact it is expected, no demanded, of all who would follow a simple carpenter, who was and is so much more. I am expected to "Work out my faith in fear and trembling". He says "Come let us reason together..." so I did. I found substantial answers to substantial questions, but there are still so many who may never have that opportunity, and for them I grieve.

I realized that the Christian walk is not a get righ quick scheme, it is not a feel good scheme, it is a day to day reality that we live in a fallen, hideously broken world that is a warped caricature of what it should be. As a result, there is much pain and suffering yet. I long for the day that change happens.

I decided long ago to serve my country, as a United States Marine. I had a desire to be a protector, even an avenger. Out of that desire came the knowledge that there are three types of people in this world. This reality was eloquently summed up for me by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman in his excellent essay "Of Wolves Sheep & Sheepdogs". I decided to become a sheepdog, a protector of family, then friends, then those about me. So I equipped myself and trained, and continue to do so. Beyond that, I desire to equip others to do the same. As a result of that I have seen the mind of the criminal, the attacker, those who would prey on those they feel are weak or helpless. One must understand the enemy to defeat them, but that understanding comes at a heavy price. I know not all are inclined nor capable, so I have made myself inclined so that I may be capable. If I am able, it may be possible for me to make it such that others need not be.

I have realized that a Pollyanna view of the world is simply a masquerade that we wear to try to block out the reality of the truly horrible. So, I adamnatly refuse to succumb to the drug of self-imposed ignorance and thereby become inurred myelf to the reality around me. I have chosen to see a beauty in a rainy day, to take the notion that rain is simply Gods tears washing the world just a bit cleaner. The wind that cuts simply scrubs away the grime just a bit and lets the beauty that is there yet shine through a bit. A vase of wilted flowers is mute testament to the love that brought them there in the first place. The tears of a child fall purely and free from a heart that knows naught but sincerity. This world is a dark and terrible place, but not forever.

Black is simply all the colors at once.

The Anvil Chorus

2006-02-15T22:17:00.000-08:00

Well, to those faithful few who drop by my dark little corner of the interverse, thank you. Yes, I realize I have been rather scarce here and in other "communities" I frequent, and there are folks there and sometimes even here who have noted this. Thank you for your concern. For them, and for you the chance reader, here is my explanation.

I don't care.

Really, I don't. We are all to a great extent, just faceless names; a sea of monkeys typing at a sea of keyboards blathering an uncounted number of largely contentless words to one another. There are a small handfull of aquaintences among them for whom I care, and who likewise care for me, but to a great extent all else are simply a group of fairly predictable artificial intelligences whose lives will blunder on whether I participate or not. If you find this insulting, prove me wrong. Didn't think you could. My point remains.

I come to to this thought through a process, a chain of events. Some weeks ago I had a brush with one of the darker places the unconstrained human lust can go, and I can't say I came away unscathed. I am posessed of a rather melancholic bent to begin with and this fairly well tipped me over the edge. Combined with this are politics of personality that come with people management, the frustrations of trying to herd the selfish toward a higher goal of selflesness and hopefully even productivity. Why must the simple and reasonable be made so difficult and unfathomable? Why would someone who is ostensibly a friend be so contrary? Selfishness is indeed the scourge of the human existence.

Concurrently, I have to deal with the ongoing battle of ignorance that surrounds any widespread yet largely misunderstood technology. I suppose I don't mind the truly ignorant. They simply do not know. The stupid, those who are willfully ignorant, are utterly frustrating. Compounding that is the rampant pandering to the stupid which does nothing but muddy up the water, confusing the stupid and frustrating those of us who are paid to pick up the pieces. Some might say I am being too harsh, but the truth is often painful. Deal with it.

I have less and less patience for the ways of the world in its many forms.

Parallel to this thought process I came to a revelation a few days ago. We work so hard to "stay in touch", but seem to only package less and less content in more and more ways. We email, voice mail and text message back and forth again and again and at the end of the day we have said essentially nothing. We pass familiar faces every day and ask "Whats up?" and get the ubiquitous "Nothin' " again and again. Are our lives so empty that we have nothing to really communicate to others? When was the last time we took enough blocks of sacred time to speak to those we care for about the content of our hearts and minds? More essentially when did we last listen to the content of their lives? It's all enough to make one become a hermit.

My own techological world had one of its usual traumas when my hard drive decided to scatter data to parts unknown and became unwilling to retrieve them. Thus, I was "out of touch" for a week and a half or so, and realized that I could indeed live without it. Quite well as a matter of fact. I almost regret repairing it. Maybe not even almost.

I find myself more jaded than usual. I find myself in a state of perpetual melancholy bordering on outright depression.

So the last few days I have attempted to spend more time with The Wife. When my world moves on, she is constant. She is endlessly fascinating, and desires to not just pour out her days and concerns on me, she constantly entreats the same of me. So I have forgone time I might have otherwise spent here in the interverse, circling in her sphere of influence, and I find it highly rewarding. She reminds me of my dreams, and even brings them to fledgling life. She expects, no demands, the very best of me and still encourages me when I so often fail. She believes only the best when many times all she gets is the worst. I have no better friend.

So there you have it.

Now go away.

Innocence Lost

2006-01-26T21:34:00.000-08:00

Caution : Graphic Content

Rarely do I write here directly about events in my day. Today I will, but only because it reflects on yesterday's piece.

I had one of the most difficult situations I have ever run across at work today. A customers machine turned up with what appears to be child pornography of the most disturbing kind on it. I spent several hours having to deal with it. On the phone with police, who asked that I describe in detail something I really just wished I never had to see. Children with animals. Children with adults. Children in poses that they should never be in.

All the usual questions rush to the fore. What kind of beast would do this to a child? How could a child be convinced to do what is so obviously wrong? Why must I see this? Is there a fire hot enough to repay the torment inflicted by these monsters?

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

Yeats got it right. Innocence is being drowned in "Rights of the accused", not wanting to "Put our nose in where it doesn't belong", not being willing to "Force our morals on others". We are allowing this cancer to spread virtually unchecked, counting on laws to stop the tide. This scourge will not be stopped by legislation or criminal pursuit. It will stop only when we as a race of people will stand in the gap and say "No more!" Sadly, we won't. We won't stop it where its starts. We won't stop the peddling of so called soft-core pornography. We won't collectively put our foot down when a strip club wants to open their doors and provide a haven for evil. We think its enough to zone it away from schools and neighborhoods, but geography will not stop it. Most of all, we won't stop it in our own dark hearts.

We will not shelter our children by teaching and enforcing moral behavior. We will not shelter our children by being parents. We will not shelter our children by providing them an example of moral clarity and absolutes. If we will not draw a line there, where will we? At what point do we decide to stop giving in and taking the easy way out? If we do not draw the line far away from the danger and early on, we may as well not even bother.

Pedophiles are not born overnight. They come from somewhere, they start somewhere. If we as a culture do not keep ourselves as far away from that place as is humanly possible, we will find ourselves in that place. Sooner rather than later.

"Even now come soon Father." Burn this world clean of depravity. Melt all down, and scrape off the dross.

Automoloch

2006-01-24T20:41:00.000-08:00

"Some will sell their dreams for small desires..."
-Subdivisions
RUSH

Where are the children? It seems all our youth have been stolen from us and replaced with caricatures, bizarre representations of some perverse fantasy. What ostensibly are young ladies are repackaged to become robotic sexual toys, and our young men have become predators of a most disturbing type. We have debased the most sacred and intimate of moments to a bait and switch, or an adversarial conquest.

The grave tragedy of all this are the open wounds and horrific scars that have become the day to day existence of youth. Every activity becomes a subversion of truth, a dangerous masquerade to hide from the reality of what is happening. Having been debased by the constructs of their society, we see around us every day a ragamuffin band of emotional refugees. The emptiness thinly veiled by desperate laughter and hollow lives. Confident that the pieces will be picked up by someone else, and the cost borne by others, they blithely lurch faster and faster down a path to loss, emptiness and degradation.

Misguided and selfish parents, seeking to be "friends" and bearing the scars of their own guilt, refuse to stand against the danger of the inevitable consequences of the actions of their children and their own inaction. Selfishly unwilling to shoulder the burden of responsibility, seeking an easier way out, they drink from the well of popular psychology and false compassion and shortchange their own. Willingly they are feeding their children to the fires of Moloch, and stoking the furnaces for future generations. Even today, The Piper stands at our doors with his greedy hand outstretched.

Our young are fast finding that giving in to reckless passions of youth are costing them more than they can pay, and leaving them empty, broken and alone. Look in their eyes, if you can, and see the questions, the doubt, the loss, the shame, the misgivings, and the anger at having been sold a pocketful of empty promises. Look into the eye of justified recrimination toward those of us who should have said and done something.

We must stand against the lie that offers to sell us a small desire today for our dreams tomorrow. Today only comes once, but tomorrow comes again and again until all at once there is no tomorrow. For us it is too late, our own generation has a debt that has been called to pay. We each are offered the opportunity to speak to those who come after. Tell them the hard things, for it is likely the truth.

The spirit of someone you will never meet depends on it.

Cupful of Despair

2006-01-14T23:45:00.000-08:00

I find humor in strange things and meaning in things stranger still. If you've read much of this little waypost of internet detritus, you've figured that out I suppose, but still, it seems it should be stated before you read on.

I saw an awesome movie today. I am a big fan of Despair Inc. I find a lot of "Motivational" products to be drivel, and Despair's stuff gives me some respite from the barrage of drivel that purports to have substance and meaning. So I was trolling about their site, and saw a link for More. I suggest you go watch it, and give it some thought. You may find it drivel, or you may find it very insightful and touching as I did.

Secondly, I heard a most profound thought today. A group of friends were sitting around regaling each other with stories of a previous boss we all had and Zack mentioned that he was asked by this boss once if he "Sees the glass as half full, or half empty". Zack related rolling his eyes and thinking "Do I really want to get into this right now?" then he laid out one of the most profound things I have heard in a long time.

He asked boss-man, "Well are you pouring water in or drinking it?" Boss man replied "Does it matter?"

"Absolutely it matters!"

"Why?"

"Well, if you are pouring water in, it is half full, if you are drinking out of it, its half empty."

"Do you really see things like that?"

"Yup."

Zack turns and walks away, leaving a confused and dumbfounded boss.

I think Zack has absolutely no idea how wise those words are, but most of us could learn so much from that simple and absolutely profound concept. You see the givers will understand, and the takers will not. Boss-man was a taker. Zack is a giver, a producer if you will and even if he can't fully put words to the concept this is what separates men like him from those who only draw from the well and never replenish it.

The Wife just brought me a glass of ice water.

The Face Of Your Father

2006-01-11T00:09:00.000-08:00

Are all men tragic little boys? Some kind of beknighted Peter Pan, lost forever in our youth, desperately seeking the respect and admiration of our fathers? Do we all stand in a prison cell of perceived reproach, in a shadow of castigation and failure?

Why are there so many of us? How did we get here and how do we break out?

I can't speak for anyone else, but I suspect I found myself here because that is where my father found himself one day. We live in a society that for the last 85 years has been striving to drag its self further and further from all that which is right and good down into an abyss of selfishness, degradation and abasement. For the last 55 years of it, we have welcomed into our homes a window into everything from which we have ostensibly wanted to protect our children. A window of mindless violence, of depravity and absolute selfism with no repercussions to speak of. A window that glorifies everything that destroys a society, culture and its people and minimizes or absolves the terrible cost of these behaviors.

Our casual conversations, our pastimes, our desires have become the very tools of our destruction. In the wake of our daily lives, we have left the wreckage and detritus of destroyed lives, of crushed hopes and dreams and a wasteland of children robbed of their innocence and childhood.

So here we are. Now how do we move beyond? How do we ensure that our sons never find the door to that prison, let alone find themselves locked inside?

We must become "Daddy", not just a biological donor. We must raise a child, not just father more offspring. We must become invested and engaged. We must not just be there, we must be present. We must realize that so suddenly our sons will walk away from us to lead their own lives, and their success or failure is so utterly dependent on who we are. Not just while they are under our roof, but when they are maintaining their own.

We must realize that our prime responsibility is not to be a friend, but to be a parent. We must discipline in the true sense of the word. "Disciple" as it were. For if we do not, all is lost.

How do those of us who are now inside get out? We must turn a weather eye on our own lives, and live as if we had those things. We must look into our own souls and make the choices that will turn us off the path to destruction, a path that will forever doom those who come after, and onto a path toward a better grasp of the reality around us. The harder and more uncomfortable it is to do, the more urgent the doing.

I have only recently realized that at nearly forty years of age, I have the approval and respect of my father. I must remember that the man who I grew up with is not the man I now know. I must leave behind the boy desperately seeking the approval of that past man, who somehow was unable to provide it. The boy who was, cannot ever achieve that which he wanted from a man who has grown as well, thus who also no longer exists.

I must no longer attempt to medicate a broken heart with a series of addictions. Addictions to performance, to respect, to adulation, to the praise I felt I never got.

There is only One who never leave, never abandons, never fails. To Him I must turn, and trust.

I must not forget the face of my Father.

Dream Long Dead

2006-01-07T22:18:00.000-08:00

I find myself at an odd place yet again.

I was gifted with an old dream this Christmas. The Wife got me an electric guitar. I love the guitar. The feel of a Strat is unbelievable. It is graceful, sensuous, adept and strong; its sound is similar. It is all about finesse, a touch powerful in its precision. All else is a simple bludgeon. I know that is all locked up in there, waiting to be caressed to life; so near to the surface but buried deep within. It brings out all the worst in me.

I am a terrible gadget hound, a true "geardo". Without restraint I would be the proud owner of tens of thousands of dollars of equipment, and still be able to only play "Smells Like Teen Spirit", when what I really want to play is "The Spirit of Radio" or "Kid Gloves" which I should be able to do with my Squier and 15 watt practice amp. But beyond all that, who shall I play for?

I have no band, and likely never will. I have something much greater. I have a dream back again. Eighteen years ago, I bought a guitar when I was stationed on Okinawa. I picked and pillaged my way through a few songs, and eventually managed to stumble through a horrible version of the intro to "The Sirit of Radio". I could play "Bullet The Blue Sky" and a few Cars tunes. I picked up a stunningly clear and loud Fender amp and learned bits and pieces of "Rag Doll". I could play a passable version of "Runnin' Down a Dream". What I longed for was the stinging clarity and simple sounding complexity of a Rush tune, but never paid the ticket to proficiency by spending the uncountable hours in the woodshed. I am now come full circle. I have decided to simply learn to actually play, to correctly finger the chords, understand a circle of fifths and see what happens. I have things I would like to say in song and maybe some of them are even worth hearing.

I wonder if it is silly to be the better part of forty and just now be picking up a dream I left at barely over twenty. Is it childish to have a childs wonder at the impossible yet so accesible? Shouldn't I be worrying about 401K's, careers, car payments and shild rearing, not how to figure out an Asus4, which pick and string I prefer, and whether I will ever be as articulate as Neal Peart?

The point to all this rambling is that The Wife has given me back a dream that I had never forgotten, but was so old I didn't realize how much I missed it. If that isn't what Christmas, marriage, friendship and true love is all about, I guess I'll never know what is.

Time to get on to the friction of the day.

Belated

2006-01-05T21:55:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year.

Now go away.

Lamentation

2005-12-22T22:26:00.000-08:00

An ill wind comes arising
Across the cities of the plain
There's no swimming in the heavy water
No singing in the acid rain
Red alert

It's so hard to stay together
Passing through revolving doors
We need someone to talk to
And someone to sweep the floors
Incomplete

The world weighs on my shoulders
But what am I to do?
You sometimes drive me crazy
But I worry about you

Is it normal to feel at loose ends now?

I know this is a time for unremitting joy, yet there seems to be so much pain. The answer to all the concerns is at hand, but the questions seem so big I wonder if I can even give them voice. Nearly every person I know is moving through a valley of the shadow of darkness, how can this be? Friends both near and far are carrying the weight of physical pain that likely will never leave them, and may well only get worse.

A world of difference
A world so out of touch
Overwhelmed by everything
But wanting more so much

Call it blind frustration
Call it blind man's bluff
Call each other names
Your voices rude
Your voices rough
Then you learn the lesson
That it's cool to be so tough

Handle with kid gloves
Then you learn the lessons
Taught in school won't be enough
Put on your kid gloves
Then you learn the lesson
That it's cool to be so tough

A world of indifference
Heads and hearts too full
Careless of the consequence
Of constant push and pull

Anger got bare knuckles
Anger play the fool
Anger wear a crown of thorns
Reverse the golden rule
Then you learn the lesson
That it's tough to be so cool

Friends and family close at hand are carrying the wounds inflicted by their own, and it seems that all they can do is hang on by the proverbial thread, each face a mirror of agony. Eyes that haunt you, calling out for respite and succour that I can point to, but cannot of myself, give.

Things fall apart,
The centre does not hold...

It doesn't seem enough. What can I do? What words can I say? A touch, a hug, it seems so indiscreet, so impure, so shallow. Some I want to scream at, at the fallacy of their decisions, of the wrath they are storing up for themselves, their children, and their childrens children. And in truth I am powerless. I must stand helplessly by as the gold they are given drains out of their hands like water, and they seem oblivious.

You know how that rabbit feels
Going under your speeding wheels
Bright images flashing by
Like windshields towards a fly
Frozen in the fatal climb
But the wheels of time
Just pass you by
Wheels can take you around
Wheels can cut you down
We can go from boom to bust
From dreams to a bowl of dust
We can fall from rockets' red glare
Down to "Brother can you spare..."
Another war
Another wasteland
And another lost generation

I know I must do my best, must carry on. I refuse to turn away. Those in need must know someone is there. I am no great soldier, I am no lone crusader with visions of grandeur, I'm just a man.

I will refuse, I will resist.

I know I will stumble, I pray I won't fall.

Oh that the hand had never stretched for the fruit of the tree so long ago.

I'm not giving in to security under pressure
I'm not missing out on the promise of adventure
I'm not giving up on implausible dreams
Experience to extremes
Experience to extremes...

Lyrics and lines courtesy of RUSH and WB Yeats

2005-12-15T09:15:00.000-08:00

The Wife's father went home yesterday afternoon.

Thankfully, she was able to spend a few hours with him in the hospital last weekend, and spoke to him on the phone about an hour before he passed. I wish I had some kind of magic words to make it all better for her, but I just can't.

Grace and Peace to you Wil.

Wilbur Orthner
March 26 1924 - December 14 2005

Back where I've been

2005-12-11T20:58:00.000-08:00

I write often about lost time, lost opportunities, regret and remembrance. I suppose it must be tiresome, but no one forced you to come to this dark place did they? Thought so. Now go away. Or stay, I don't care, just don't come to the end of your days and look back with regret saying no one warned you or that it was someone else's fault.

That being said, on to tonites dark thought.

I like so little music from today and the music I do like is generally out of print, so bit torrent and used record shops are my friends. I picked up a CD the other day that brings back some very good memories. This disc came into my life about the time that the relationship that The Wife and I had salvaged was really starting to grow into something worthwile.

Ah Via Musicom.

Reminds me that there is joy in this world, if we are willing to pay the price and put in the work for it. Those memories I will have until old age takes them from me, and even then though I will not have specifics I will have the sensations of love and fulfillment from those days.

So tonite, Eric Johnson is reminding me of the better days from before, and the better days to come. May you find those places in your life as well.

Afterimages

2005-12-11T00:20:00.000-08:00

Wil is going home.

I never knew him well, we just never seemed to "connect". We have fairly drastically different worldviews, thus have few intersections of thought. We see the same things, but we see them through different windows, thus the view is radically different.

But this is not about me, and it is not about Wil. It is about peeling the onion.

It seems that standing helplessly by as someone you are acquainted with and love fades into the darkness from the twilight of their years, brings sharply into focus the room you stand in, and the view from your own window. It seems that Wil's onion has been peeled, and he now has only that which is at his core. I wonder what seeds we are planting that will become the core of our own onions when they are peeled.

We alternately wander aimlessly and scurry through our lives from activity to activity and place to place with little thought for our last days. We need to remember that jobs, accomplishments, accolades, "importance", power, control, are simply short waypoints on our paths. They are not even so much as stopping points as small points of interest we view briefly as the rails of our lives carry us along.

When we reach our final destination here on earth all that will be left as the chaff of our lives is buring away in the terrible furnace of time is what we have stored away against that day. The only things that last are those things that are not dependent on the things of this world. When we go, all we are left with are our memories and the memories of those whose lives we enriched by our words and deeds. Old age ruthlessly and systematically robs us of our memories, and likewise our pretenses. Let us never lose sight of this.

We must spend the small stock of resources that we are given cacheing against the day that our accounts are called to balance, always remembering what is gold, and what is dross.

While I am glad for the memories that Wil has, I feel a profound sense of loss, regret and remorse for what he has missed. Time and death are relentless and remorseles accountants.

I blame Marc

2005-12-07T20:40:00.000-08:00

Apparently the whole "Meme Thing" is making the rounds.

Marc, who shall suffer under a hailstorm of burning iguanas for this, has tagged me. So be it.

Se7en Things:

I want to do before I die....

1) Be a father
2) Complete LFI IV (as an adjunct, become a certified Use of Force & Stress-Fire Instructor)
3) Play in a crushingly heavy band
4) Shoot sub-MOA at 1,000 yards, consistently
5) Hunt the African Grand Slam
6) Visit Normandy and pay my respects
7) Write a truly engrossing and terrifying novel

I cannot do...

1) Finish what I start
2) Have an original thought
3) Type
4) Kill the sarx
5) Keep a clean workspace, or any other space
6) Understand why The Wife married me
7) Keep this list to anywhere near seven items

Things that attract me to the opposite sex

1) Being a lady, in the true sense of the word
2) Good smile
3) Gotta love them redheads
4) Strong Character
5) Good conversational skills
6) Willingness to try the things I am interested in
7) Nice apples

Things I say most often

1) Yo Hippie(s)
2) Yeah right
3) You might want to rethink that, and here's why
4) Ya know I got nuttin' but love for ya honey
5) It don't get any more white-bread than this
6) Yer what hurts?
7) Get to work!

Celebrity Crushes

I didn't grow up with TV or movies, so I never really had any. That being said, I find these women at least somewhat attractive

1) Jennifer Connelly (Dark City)
2) Meghan Gallagher (MillenniuM)
3) Gillian Anderson (X-Files)
4) Myrna Loy (The Thin Man Movies)
5) Kari Matchett (Nero Wolfe)
6)
7)

All these are obviously selected as the onscreen characters they played....

The World moved on II

2005-12-04T20:24:00.000-08:00

It is finished.

Helplessness

2005-12-04T12:53:00.000-08:00

"I don't know what to say..."

I hate that phrase. Not so much because I am out of words, or have none of relevance to contribute, but because it always seems to come at times of profound tragedy and loss. When loved ones are lost, hopes and dreams get crushed, or any of the daily tragedies that befall us, I never seem to have words of comfort. The irony is that people seem drawn to me when they suffer loss.

Right now someone I care for deeply is going through the loss of a close family member, and I can do nothing. There is much bitterness, selfishness, recrimination, and ultimately the worst of all, regret in that family. Regret for the opportunities lost, the feelings hurt and the despair this family has lived with for decades.

Still I have no words. All I can do is what I ssem least capable of. Listening and caring.

"Comfort them with the words with which you have been comforted with".

I guess that's all I can do, but I just wish there was more...

So many words, So little to say

2005-11-27T15:53:00.000-08:00

So many things I think about
When I look far away
Things I know, things I wonder
Things I'd like to say
-Mystic Rhytms
RUSH

So often I look at the page or screen, and I am jealous of those whose words evoke deep lasting response. It seems that through some mysterious process profound thoughts spill unbidden on the page. I feel as if I am somehow lacking some miniscule yet vital genetic component that keeps me always just a short but insurmountable distance from profound relevance. I think sometimes I'd just be happy with a raised eyebrow and a thoughful "Hmmm".

Then I am jolted awake by that demon of accountability, my conscience. "No" it says, "you're just lazy. The only thing that seperates you from good writing is determination. What is it you are always spouting? 'Persistency and consistency are omnipotent in success'?"

I hate my conscience a good part of the time. I know that if I simply poured out the sweat, I would be rewarded with the words I desire.

I am afraid relevance is beyond my ability to control though.

Let the frenzy begin

2005-11-25T17:39:00.000-08:00

So today is the first day of the "Holiday Shopping Season".

Sounds like the type of season one hunts down and kills subservient animals in. And you know? I don't have a problem with that. Mind you I have worked in retail for more than a few years, and I have seen some episodes of fairly egregious poor conduct. That kind of nonsense I just don't understand. What I really don't understand are the folks who spend time and energy whining about how they hate how "Commercialized" Christmas has become. What a waste of time, energy and perspective.

It sure seems to me like a lot of these folks are just looking for something to carp about, but lack the ingenuity or determination to find something really worthwile to pontificate on. Those who don't understand what Christmas is really all about, or who choose to ignore it, are already on their own mental track and more wasted words to them aren't going to change them. Those people are only going to write off the complainers as "Whiners", "Kill-Joys" or to use the common vernacular, "Grinches".

Simply standing on the sidelines and pointing the bony finger of accusation at others only serves to distract from the heart, intnent and purpose of the season in general and Christ in particular.

Words are a precious commodity.

Don't waste them.

The hand that feeds

2005-11-22T23:18:00.000-08:00

What is kindness?

Is it helping others in need? Helping little proverbial old ladies across streets? Is it comforting those who need comfort?

No.

Kindness is making the sacrifices and changes necessary to become the person inside who can do the external things. Externals are so easy, even I can do them at times. Its usually an accident though. Being the person who does these things unconsciously, without thought to consequence, good or bad, is kindness. Not shirking the undesireable duties necessary to the smooth interaction of other people is kindness.

Kindness is not what we do, it is who we are.

Or aren't.

Burning Down The House

2005-11-20T15:08:00.000-08:00

Have you ever taken the time to think back to how your world-view has changed over time?

I was reminded of this again as The Wife and I were driving to church today. As we were at a stoplight a bright shiny black SUV pulled up next to us. It had all the amenities, DVD player for the kids, oversized chrome spinner wheels, plush interior , the works. My mind flashed to the scene in Terminator 2 where Linda Richardson "sees" the playground consumed in a nuclear firestorm. Plastic toys burst into flames, and scorched flesh flies off of adults and children like fall leaves driven by a wind.

I believe that the world we now enjoy is not going to be with us long, in a variety of ways and for a variety of reasons. If we continue down the political and economic road we are on we can't last much longer in our current state of realitve affluence. God may decide that the fullness of time has been reached, and close the book on this age. A host of other things could cause serious upheaval in our daily lives and perspectives.

I used to never think of these things and now it seems I rarely think of anything else. So much of what we deem so important to us now will surely be driven like burning leaves before a raging storm. Our cars, our houses, the toys and activities that we fill our lives with will burn like chaff in a furnace. When that fire comes what will be left of our lives? Will we be the ones others depend on, or will we be the dependants? I fear that most will find everything that seemed so important the day before stripped away and they will be alone, and afraid, helpless children unable to survive the wrath about them. Symbols of status and importance will be mocking reminders of how they should have lived their lives and spent their days.

Oh Lord,
Save me!
This place is evil!
-The Crucified

The Truth is an offense

2005-11-20T14:51:00.000-08:00

Why are we so resistant to the simple truths surrounding us? Why do they offend us?

They are often not the easiest to deal with, its easier to solve the problems of the world rather than to solve the problems in our lives.

I had two interesting discussions at work this last week. One was with a cop. We were talking about our preferences in tactical gear and how the circumstances of our lives dictated those choices. He made an interesting comment. "I have had to draw my gun many times, and have been in several gunfights. I have never had anyone wish they had a smaller caliber, a smaller gun, or less ammo in that situation." Too true I thought. Too true.

The second conversation happened two days later. I was showing a customer a variety of handguns for daily carry, and he was complaining about their size. Mind you, all of the guns he requested were either compact or sub-compact models. He was, to use the medical term, morbidly obese and mentioned that carrying a gun of adequate size was highly uncomfortable because the rolls of fat around his midsection rubbed on the gun and caused pretty serious chafing. Without even pausing, I asked "Well why not lose weight?" It seems to me a simple solution. He was highly offended. Not at the idea that I had said it, but because it would cause him discomfort. It would cause him to put down the twinkie, and go for a walk instead.

I hope he remembers that conversation when he really needs a bigger gun.

When I have nothing to say...

2005-11-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

...my lips are sealed.

-Talking Heads

As an aside...

2005-11-15T11:56:00.000-08:00

I was sitting here this morning thinking on one thing and another and realized again just how much my wife means to me. She is unendingly supportive, she prays for me constantly and she never seems to tire of my company. Often I wonder what she sees in me beyond constant shortcoming and failure but she never seems to look down on me. She always expects the best of me, never seeming to realize that anything I am of worth is either her responsibility or God's. Or both.

I love her dearly and desperately.

Someday I hope to "Measure Up".

Crush My Soul

2005-11-14T21:04:00.000-08:00

I have a friend. I have a very good friend. His name is Daniel, and I have never met him. I talk to him over the internet and on the phone but I have never seen him face to face. I torment him mercilessly as I am wont to do to most of my friends and therein lies my dilema.

As I have mentioned before I am posessed of a very dark, snide and sarcastic sense of humour. It seems everytime I type or say something to him I find myself wondering if I have finally taken it too far. But I always seem to let the words fly anyway.

Daniel, you are a good man. Once when I was hurting worse than I ever have in my life, you picked up the phone when I called and offered grace, tenderness, mercy and support far beyond what mealy words can say. For that one call alone I am forever in your debt. There is more even than that.

If I am ever again offered the opportunity to be a father, I hope I can live up to the example of care and concern for your children that you display. Your love for your wife is an exemplar that most of us could learn from.

Your longsuffering patience with my merciless heckling is more than I deserve, and even more so the fact that you continue to call me friend is at times astonishing.

Maybe one day I'll figure out how to tell someone that I love them without calling them names like a third grade kid.

The World moved on

2005-11-13T20:40:00.000-08:00

I read in a novel series I enjoy about the concept of the world "Moving On". Indeed it does. Through an online community I am a member of, I learned of a two hour big band radio show. Now, I enjoy big band/swing music. It's essentailly nostalgia for a time I never knew and view only through the rosy lenses of others memories and the images of modern movies. Still and all, I like it. It's my musical alter ego if you will. Like all things however, it is coming to an end. In a few short weeks the host will be moving on to other things in her life, and my Sunday evenings will feel the loss for it. The World moves on.

The Wife and I have noticed that friendships rarely last more than two or three years. Jobs rarely last for more than two or three years. The World moves on for each of us. The bell tolls, time marches on and Father Time takes our hand, leading us willingly or unwillingly on to other circumstances or situations. We leave our indelible stamp on others just as they have left theirs on us.

We must always be sure to leave others better than we found them, enriched for having known us for we are often the better for having known them. We must take joy as it is offered for it is fleeting. Value our time above all else. One day we will all wake up alone. Choose wisely the efforts and people you put your time into, good or bad, that time is gone. Your world will move on and all will be different.

We should never burn too much of today wishing for yesterday. It was glorious in its time, but it is not ours any longer. It now belongs to the immortal pages of history. Regardless of how much discomfort we find in today, realize it will soon be the yesterday we often long for.

I shall miss the big band show, for its season is nearing a close. The World is indeed moving on.

Good Night Meems, wherever you are.

Comfortable Misery

2005-11-09T21:32:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a circle of self imposed loneliness. I suppose some of it was just the normal loneliness and angst that every teenager experiences, but I became very comfortable with discomfort and distance, both physical and emotional. I was neither a complete outcast, nor was I a member of "The In Crowd" by any means so I elected to distance myself from everyone. I suppose at the time I considered myself introspective and I was to some degree, but I think I confused introspection with self-absorption a lot as well. I took as my own theme RUSH's The Analog Kid.

As I grew up I grew out a bit as well, but I still kept my distance. Even now I still do. I am not a hugging person to this day. I have a fair number of aquiantences, but few friends. It protects me, and them. Even so however, I am much more open than I used to be. I have a blog that two people read. Still, I still believe that a man carries his own water.

I look around me and I wonder, am I really content living this life? Is anyone? Or have I just "Settled For"?

I know people who are always quick to tell about everything that is wrong in their lives, every daily tragedy, every discomfort they endure. So what? Have we become so selfish and self absorbed that we don't see what is really going on around us? Are we becoming tragedy vampires? Have we wrapped our misery, both real and self-inflicted, around us like a blanket and have become comfortable in that?

How pathetic. How sad.

By the way, it rained the other day, and I was glad.

The Walk

2005-11-08T23:07:00.000-08:00

This is the first part of a story I am sporadically working on. I have a great editor who is helping me out, this is the unedited version.

We'll see if anything comes of it.

Prologue

“The world, your world is changing little missy!” the Old Man said. “The people you thought you knew are changing. You think they are changing, or growing older, or growing wiser. Truth is, they are growing all right. Growing different. But it’s not what you think. They are being turned. Not into monsters, or little green men from mars, but different. They are growing into something they weren’t.”

1.

“I never really cared to travel” she thought as she looked out the window facing the parking lot of her apartment. Three floors up the alcove looked out through the rain, across the parking lot and over town. Truthfully she wasn’t going to be traveling in the sense most people use the word. She knew only she was leaving where she was right then.

People carry on conversations in their mind all the time and Molly was no different. Much as she wanted to believe she was different, she carried the same stamp, the same characteristics of so many others. So the talked with herself.

“If only I didn’t know today what I didn’t know two short weeks ago”, she said in that resigned voice we only seem to use on ourselves when faced with unavoidable unpleasantness.

Standing from her seat in the window, she smiled remorsefully at the tiny rivers of raindrops aimlessly wandering down the window pane. “I wonder”, she said to herself “If they know any better where they are going than I do?” Picking up her physical burden that was every bit as heavy as her internal burden, she shouldered it and moved for her apartment door.

Stepping into the hallway she turned, facing the open door to what would soon be her unreachable past. Glancing quickly at the key-ring in her hand her eyes rose to the table visible through the doorway. On the table sat her purse and wallet, the most concise physical representation of her soon to be lost identity to the outside world. “Here goes” she thought, “The moment of truth.”

Careful not to lose her balance under the full pack, she reached inside the door and set the lock. Leaning still further inward she lobbed her keys toward the table top. With a small jangling crash, her keys landed on the table and spinning gently came to rest against her purse. Finally speaking aloud she said, “I guess that’s it then.”, and turned down the hallway, pulling the locked door closed behind her.

Suddenly, her pack seemed much heavier.

Will the circle be unbroken?

2005-11-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

I have always wanted to be a leader in a very narrow sense. I don't have grandiose ideas of sweeping in and setting up a benevolent dictatorship in some small South American country, or being in charge of a huge corporate empire. I want to lead people in a business environment. You see, there is a difference.

There is a difference between managing and leading. To paraphrase (and mangle) a popular phrase "Those who can't do, teach, those who can't teach, manage". Seems to have borne its self out in my experience.

I have done this in the past at a couple of places and really enjoyed it for two reasons. I always swore if I ever got the chance to do it, I would do my best to avoid the usual nonsense that comes from managers. I have never believed in screwing with my people. A business only has three irreplaceable assests. The knowledge and good will of its people, the data it hasn't backed up offsite, and the time put into it. Everything else can be replaced.

I also swore I would never resort to being a manager, but would always strive to be a leader. A manager stands behind his people and tries to drive them forward, a leader steps out front and leads by doing what he expects his people to do, and then some.

I left managing a tobacco shop about five months ago, and it is now on its second manager. Josh is a great guy, but he's young and more importantly inexperienced. He is a good friend, so when I offered to stop by and give him some pointers he readily agreed. We met at 8 AM and talked until nearly 11.

I found myself trying to encapsulte 15 years of thinking, reading, studying, trying failing and succeding into an off the cuff discourse. I think it helped at least a bit. The main point though was I realized how much I missed striving to be a leader rather than a troglodyte just cruising under the corporate radar.

I always swore I'd never allow myself any regrets but sometimes I wonder...

Reverse Polarity

2005-11-04T23:49:00.000-08:00

Two thoughts of note today.

I frequently find myself in a position of, well, not really widespread public dislike in the workplace but more a place of distance and some level of unease with my co-workers. I get along fine with them but some of them seem to have a sense of distance beyond mere professionalism with me. It came to me today what the issue may be rooted in.

I am fairly opinionated. Like most folks I like to think that most of my opinions are at least rooted in fact, if not outright fact. I try to state clearly when I am expressing an idea that I do believe is opinion or well reasoned conjecture but a fact is a fact. I believe in the concept of antithesis. If something is "A" it cannot be "Non-A". This is not a concept widely held today. The creeping incrementalism of humanism has robbed us of the sure footed-ness of true logic, and replaced it with a cloying fog of grey. A miasma of indecision and uncertainty that ranges from questions of morality to choices in personal taste. But this in itself is not the reason.

It is not because I am right and they are wrong, but simply the fact that I have a conviction or opinion that I am willing to stand on. Unequivocally and without apology or compromise, unless shown good cause to. The world has broken down to the point where having an opinion or belief of any kind is wrong. "Callin' 'em like ya' see 'em" is no longer a virtue, but at best an excuse to be generally abrasive.

How is one expected to have any sort of reasoned discourse if you are disallowed the luxury of defining your terms? No wonder there is so much confusion out there.

On a more pleasant note, I got to visit Dad again tonite. I am the family computer tech and it was time for an "upgrade" for Dad, so I scrounged an older machine and loaded my last copy of Windows 2000 on it, tossed on some various software he will like and took it over. We didn't get a chance to just talk much, but it was nice to just see him. I hope that as I grow and develop a bit, I can provide for him some of the joy of good memories that he provided for me as a kid.

I love you Dad!

This is who we are

2005-11-03T20:35:00.000-08:00

"We are all shepherds."
-Jordan Black
'Goodbye to all that'
MillenniuM

As we go about our days, wending our way through the foibles, follies, transgressions and successes we each inevitably deal with, how often do we look up? How often do we give thought to how what everything we do affects and impacts not just those around us, but those in our circle of extended influence?

We live on a grand scale, we are each the butterfly wing that causes a hurricane halfway around the world, and yet we live as if we are in some small closed environment with some measure of control.

We owe it to ourselves, our fellow man, and mankind at large to live our lives to the highest standards, set the highest goals, expect nothing less than the best of ourselves, and those around us. Yet we must temper our expectations with the understanding that we are all flawed. We need to realize that each of our lives will either make the world a greater place and leave a legacy of greatness, or they will be another step down the road to destruction that this world seems so bent on hurtling down.

Whether we like it or not, whether we believe it or not, whether we agree or not, there are such things as absolutes. There is right and wrong, and evil is alive and well on this earth today. It is up to each of us to fight the battle against the dark that so desires to overwhelm humanity in the place where we are put.

We are all shepherds.

Massive Attack

2005-11-02T22:54:00.000-08:00

So we got in a new rifle at work today, and I had to call The Wife. Its an Armalite AR-50. For those who are not "Gun Junkies" or "Geardo's", its a .50 caliber sniper rifle. The Wife of course had to check it out as she is a recoil junkie. She likes 'em big, loud and obnoxious. Hence her marriage to me! The thing is massive, its about 5 feet long and weighs in at around 50 pounds with bipod and scope. Retail on the whole package is in the neighborhood of $4,000 and costs between 2 and 5 dollars every time you pull the trigger. Would I buy it for her? In a heartbeat. Would I shoot it? Probably never. She'd never give me the chance. Will I buy it? Only if they let us have a seventeen year layaway.

Constant Craving

2005-11-01T23:43:00.000-08:00

So today is my Monday. I work Tuesday through Saturday at the local Sports Megalopolis. The Wife works Monday through Friday. So, in effect, we have one day off together, Sunday. By the time we get up and go to church, we have half a day left. Granted, we can fit bits and pieces of time together in and around our schedule, but it still sucks. Especially "Mondays", hers and mine.

I miss The Wife. She is the beloved of my life. I told her when we were dating that she was my "Center". She is the sun that I revolve around in my universe. She keeps me balanced, or at least as balanced as I can be. She is my best friend, the one confidant with whom I can share anything, and know that it will be respected, kept in confidence and supported or corrected as need be. That is still the case nearly twenty years later.

"Mondays" are hard for me. Something is missing. The timing is "off". We always seem just a bit out of sync and it just wrenches the day all out of sorts. Today was no different. I am fairly dark as it is, but today I just felt glum all day. It is better when I get home, but its still just wrong, as we have little time before we have to go to bed so she can get up early for her job. I feel as if time is being stolen.

Relationships are built with the building blocks of word and deed and held together with the mortar of time. Do not neglect time with those you love. Everything in life is replaceable but time. Chores left undone will wait. Tasks at work will be there when you come back to them. Jobs can be replaced with relative ease. Times you missed are gone forever.

Do not allow what is truly valuable to slip through your hands. Pick up the pen and put it to paper. Pick up the phone and be the voice on the other end to the ones you love. Get in the car and make that unpleasant drive for even a few minutes of precious time.

You never know when you will never have that opportunity again.

Regret is a terrible burden to bear.

The reality of suspended disbelief

2005-10-30T18:15:00.000-08:00

"We suspend our disbelief,
and we are entertained"
RUSH - Mystic Rhythms

"Close your eyes,
Release your mind"
The Crucified - Mindbender

So The Wife and I were wandering about that great emporium of white trash sanctuary called Wal-Mart casting about for one trinket and another, and came upon the one thing we are continually drawn to regardless of where it can be found. The DVD bargain bin. In there can be found such cinematic treasures as "The Attack of the Giant Leeches" and so forth. Today we found "Fletch". In wide-screen no less. Life is good.

As we were wandering about we ran across another rack of DVDs. We have been looking for a copy of "The Public Eye" for the longest time, and we didn't find it tonite either. However, we did find something interesting. A DVD of the first season of 4400. Not being much of a TV watcher, I have no prior experience with this program, so I read the description on the back of the case.

The premise is the return of 4400 people who have disappeared, presumably alien abductees. Which led me to a thought, that being: why do we try so hard to convince ourselves that that which is not true is and that which is manifestly false is true? Indeed that little bit of mental acrobatics is the foundation of much of the "logic" of the day and even liberal propaganda.

We allow the plague of incrementalism to steal away the mortar in the foundations of our beliefs, and often we assist the process. We know that at some point there is going to be a mass exodus of humans from this planet. We call the this "The Rapture". However, by the time this happens, thanks to The X-Files, Art Bell and 4400, it will just be another alien abduction in the eyes of those left. Which is really sad because I like the X-Files, and Art Bell is a crack up to listen to.

To extend the idea however, we look at the current political environment, and the sad fact is that most of what happens in the political arena, and the forum of common discourse is simply a game of semantics to divert the truth of what is being said. A classic example is abortion. Regardless of what one believes about it, abortion is, by definition, ending a life. Yet it is referred to as a "Right to choose". Whether it is a right is legally dubious, but it has nothing to do with choice. Evolution is patently poor science, but laws have been passed to protect that type of fallacious thinking, and so a poorly thought out theory gets passed off as fact. Liberalism cannot exist in the real world because it is denied by the reality around it.

I wonder how many of our ideas will eventually be crushed under the steamroller of unvarnished reality before we wake up and begin to think again.

Memories of a future past

2005-10-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

The Wife and I like Sci-Fi. Usually "Hard Sci-Fi". Greg Bear's EON comes to mind right away. We also like good Sci-Fi movies and TV. Sorry, Start Trek doesn't count. Yes I know that is sacrilege to many, but so be it. Babylon 5, while not exactly hard SF, is about as close as TV came as far as I have seen. So when looking for something to watch, we drug out our videotape collection of Babylon 5 and have been watching them over the last few days.

Whatever happened to TV? When a show had to have something going for it other than promiscuous extra-marital or pre-marital sex and a plot was integral rather than bolted on as an afterthought? Babylon 5 was a show that had a pre-determined story arc before the first episode was shot and it held pretty true to that for its run. Of course the characters were generally more caricature than character, but this was a one hour show.

Which leads me to two points.

Do we expect those around us to be characters or caricatures? Our friends, co-workers and family are bound to be more character than caricature. By this I mean they are flawed, broken folks just trying to get through life just like us. They will have long periods of day to day drudgery and flaws often bordering on outright malfeasance. I often expect my friends and family to amuse me, and I think the reality is that the opposite is often true. Short of outright illegality, I think we often must just content ourselves with the fact that those around us are just a broken as we are and must be left to their own devices.

Secondly, Babylon 5 was full of pithy insights, phrases and obtuse observations. One of my favorites was "My shoes are too tight, but it does not matter because I have forgotten how to dance." I love that picture. How often do we spend out lives worrying that our shoes look good, that they are the right style, that others approve but not only are they too tight to dance, we have been so busy that we no longer have time to dance. Consequently we forget how. And at the end of our lives we are alone in a dark room off to the side of the party alone in the dark with no one to dance with and no ability if the opportunity arose.

Remember to walk in the rain, eat a little ice cream on a cold day, take a drive and get lost, smile at a child, have a cup of good coffee late at night, listen to your music just a little too loud, wave to a stranger and even if it is with yourself, dance just a bit.

My dark little corner of Heaven

2005-10-28T21:52:00.000-07:00

In our lives we become hidebound by our own little traditions. Habits if you prefer but to be graceful, traditions. One tradition I have is I always call The Wife as I head home from work, or wherever I happen to be coming home from. Last evening was no different. On Thursday evenings I have a self-defense and firearms class that is the most basic prerequisite for a concealed handgun license in Oregon. Sometimes I give part of the presentation, but most times I just help correct tests, chat with students, answer questions, offer opinions (sometimes even when asked) and just generally be "staff". I came to a realization while chatting with The Wife on the way home.

For the last several weeks I have been reading "On Killing" as mentioned previously. I have been sliding deeper and deeper in to state of ongoing melancholy, bordering on outright depression. Its been going on for the last two weeks or so and I couldn't figure out why. Then it hit me, what have I been feeding myself? Well between "On Killing" and re-reading "The Stand" I have literally been feeding myself death, disease, destruction, decay, hopelessness and despair. "On Killing" is necessary for the educational path I am on, "The Stand" is not. Additionally, I need to remember to feed my soul the Bread Of Life, and water my soul with The Holy Spirit, or it will dry into a hollow husk of what it should be.

So, now I am listening to Demon Hunter, and this evening I think I shall partake of some lighter fare. I think I shall go visit the old brownstone on West 35th and see what Archie Goodwin and Nero Wolfe are up to. In the morning I shall take up with St. Paul again in his letter to the Romans.

It's still pretty much always cloudy in my little world, but it seems to be getting a bit warmer. The rain is always easier to take when it is warm.

Grace and Peace to you.

On Killing, On Prayer

2005-10-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

I am reading a book called "On Killing, The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society". The book takes you to some very dark places indeed. I am around two-thirds through, now to the part where the author has passed beyond what causes or allows us to take another human life in combat, either on the battlefield, or on the street in self defense and has begun dealing with the aftermath of that cataclysmic event. I sat in my vehicle during my lunch break, reading and eating. I got out of and was walking back in and the sun broke out from the ubiquitous clouds we enjoy here. The rain had slacked off to a mist so light as to nearly not be there, and I was nearly smitten to the ground by the impact of what I had read and I found myself praying with an earnestness I have rarely felt that God would spare me having to ever walk that dark road. The crushing weight of that act can be more than any man can bear, even when clearly justified in the eyes of society and the law.

Which leads me to my second point.

Have you ever told someone you were praying for them? Frequently we do this in such a glib manner that it has nearly lost all meaning. The most gut-wrenching tragedies are met with an "I'll pray for you" in a well meaning, but nearly off-handed manner. Do we ever think to pray for others when there is no apparent need? When we know of no immediate pain that redress is sought for? My wife told a close friend of hers today that she was praying for her, and her friend acted almost put off by it. I believe that this was not because she was truly put off, but because we so often only mention prayer when there is something wrong. We should be holding each other up in prayer at all times, in all seasons, in all things, so that we are not taken aback when others pray for us the same way.

If only I lived my life more like that...

Conundrum

2005-10-25T23:25:00.000-07:00

My job provides a lot of interesting stuff. I work at a major sporting goods retailer. My job is in the "Hunting Department", which is rather odd, becuase I am not a hunter. Oh, I have tumbled over my fair share varmits. Squirrels, rabbits, flying rats (pigeons), blackbirds, crows etc. have fallen to my shot in stupendous numbers. But a hunter proper is one who stalks game animals and fills their freezer and/or hangs trophies on their walls. The only thing in my freezer is TV dinners. The walls of my apartment have cheesy panelling on them. So for me its really just a euphemism for "I sell guns". I was hired to handle tactical stuff. Or in the vernacular "Black Nasty Stuff". But this leaves me in an interesting spot.

If one is talking about hunting rifles or shotguns or handguns, it is expected that one desires to dispatch their quarry in the most efficient, most humane manner and remain within the constraints of the law. When one gets into the arena of self-protection be it handgun, rifle or shotgun we are talking about shooting another human being. The judicious use of deadly physical force. Potentially justifiable homicide. With that comes an incredible array of complex factors. Personal disposition, sufficient force, legality, training and on and on and on. I have some training in this area. More than most, less than some. I am not yet a certified instructor but I am on the path to gain such certification. Its about a ten to twelve year path, so its not gonna be finished soon.

However, when somone comes up to my counter, flush with the fear of a recent encounter and is looking to me as a supposed authority figure how do I handle it? My job is ultimately to put a product in their hand that they exchnage cash for to fill the owners pocket. How far do I go in disabusing them of their pop culture influenced ideas of what will or won't work? Beyond that, what do I say to their flagrantly wrong or even illegal ideas? I have neither the certification to speak to those issues nor, I would bet, the sanction of the management. In fact I imagine taht they would rather I keep my mouth shut when they say they are gonna shoot the next person that cuts them off in traffic.

What has happened to our society when we are supposed to go home at night and sleep well when we have just put a handgun that is completely insufficeint to the task in the hand of some scared young lady? When we are expected to be able to look ourselves in the mirror and know that she is untrained, unskilled and unprepared for the absolutely psychologically crushing burden of potentially taking another life? Or worse yet, she makes what she believes to be the right choice of tool, but I know it absolutely will fail her, and on top of all that, she will do it "wrong" and wind up in jail for a long time, having still been beaten, raped and psychologically destroyed. Will I even be able to meet her gaze?

How much do I say? How much do I not say? Do I refuse to sell that little pipsqueak pistol to her, even though that is all she is willing to carry? I fear meeting her in my nightmares, the accusing finger, "Why did you not tell me? Why did you not warn me? What is wrong with you?"

Many will listen in rapt attention drinking it all in, and when I suggest they take classes, I later see them in classes I assist with. Some listen with the same attention, but are never seen again. Some don't even want to hear, they just want a talisman.

For myself, I can't just shrug and walk away. I like my job, but I wonder sometimes...

A walk in the park

2005-10-24T18:18:00.000-07:00

Since its my day off, and The Wife had a doctors appointment for her gimpy knee, the plan was to take her to the doctor. However, events conspired against us, and I "got" to stay home and work on the van while she rode the bus to the doctors. The van turned out to be a minor issue, so once she got back we saddled up and ran about town doing miscellaneous errands. Back home for lunch, and after a bit of piddling around, interspersed with some Mystery Science Theater 3000 - "Mitchell" (who doesn't love a horrible Joe Don Baker Movie with lunch) we decided to go for a walk and get coffee.

Oregon is a beautiful place in fall. Trees range from dark green to fiery orange to blazing yellow and all that falls between. The Wife commented that "Fall smells good" and she's right. Fall has a maturity and complexity that spring lacks. Spring strains to be summer, almost as if it is ashamed of its brilliance and desperately wants to be something it is not. Fall is content with what it is, and doesn't dread the oncoming winter.

We walked the few blocks to the city rose garden and park. Few people are out this time of year, only a couple folks tossing the obligatory Frisbee back and forth, but now the attendant dog is happy to simply watch, rather than give hopeless chase. The rose bushes have lost all their leaves and the few remaining flowers are shedding petals at a phenomenal rate, scattering their color on the ground. Somehow they retain their scent for those few who look for it.

All in all, I think fall is my favorite season. Too many of us run about looking for happiness, while contentment is all around us. Life is what it is. If we burn our days looking for something so fleeting as happiness, we miss the years of fulfilled contentment waiting for us at every turn. Then, when we look back on our days they are hollow and empty, like the souls who step over dollars to pick up pennies.

Walking about with wife in hand, I realized I am indeed a rich man.

Live in the now, its all we have.

Afternoons coffee

2005-10-23T18:25:00.000-07:00

Met with my Dad for coffee for a while this afternoon. I always approach these sorts of meetings with misgivings, as Dad and I have a rather complicated history. This time tho, we got onto some topics that led back to some really good memories of childhood, and good times with Dad. Warm late summer evenings at the granfolks farm, and a fourth grade teacher who dressed like a televangelist. Being a little guy standing in the shadows of giants as it were. Sitting there in the coffee shop I felt the warm sun, smelled the summer breeze, and spent an hour or so away from the things I dislike so much in this life and was transported back to what I remember as a much better time.

If you have a chance to go back with your father, I highly recommend it...

Setting up and getting going

2005-10-23T12:17:00.000-07:00

Do you have any freakin' idea how hard it is to come up with a decent blog name? All the good ones are taken and aren't even being used. I must have tried a dozen different sumpin'sumpin'sumpin.blogspot.com ideas and they were all taken. Not one has more than one day's drivel in them.

Is suppose it'll take me a month of Sundays to get this to look the way I like, and work the way I like, and then it too will most likely turn into just so much more internet detritus.

I do know of one cool one though, "Opinions, Thoughts and the Moral Soapbox". SOmeday, maybe I will have something near as profound, interesting, or even just as readable as Meems.

Start Me Up

2005-10-23T00:50:00.000-07:00

So I got badgered into trying this blog thing. I suppose its a good idea, maybe I'll write something at least amusing, if not worth reading. Maybe with luck, occasinally profound. Doubtful but possible.

'Course it could just wind up being another one of those infinite number of monkeys in front of an infinite number of typewrites...