The stories of my scars.

Do, do, do, la, la, la, la, do, do. As the world has spun on its slant axis, many odd objects have found themselves in violent encounter with my largest organ, these are The Stories of My Scars.

There used to be a driving range so near our house that we had golf balls in plenty.  I knew that golf clubs were to be used on grass and not for hitting rocks. Although we had one club that was designated the ignoble fate of a toy to my siblings and me.

As a child I had little awareness of the proper usage of things. I wanted to hit rocks with a baseball bat, not being concerned if it was dented. I wanted to crush rocks with a hammer. I didn’t have very much discrimination about which hammer I used. But I knew to only use the special club on the dirt. As an odd unrelated fact, I even knew that the special club was a wedge. 

One day as my sister, younger brother and I were talking turns hitting some balls in the front yard. I wanted to be on my sisters other side. I was standing behind her. I wanted to stand in front of her. I was impatient. The other side seemed so great. Did I mention that I wanted to be on the other side of my sister? I remember thinking that I should wait, that I shouldn’t move near my sister because she was about to swing. 

That day was the day that I most resembled a deer. I really resembled any earth bound creature that might find itself caught with the decision to go ahead or go back.  I was the deer that kept running right into on coming traffic. 

The golf club sent me running inside to my mom after it took a divot out of my left cheek. I sat on the kitchen counter asking my mom if I could see what it looked like. My sister was crying, I think, saying, “I’m sorry”. My poor sister. I wasn’t even crying anymore. She had the worse of it. They were my first stitches. I think that my mom saved them when they were removed. 

I didn’t realize at the time that, I should be safe not only for my own sake, but also for the sake of the person who might accidentally cleave my cheek in two.

I'm Sorry

In my days, quart. cent.( that is just over a quarter of a century)
I've been bent in the way that would say that if a person sins against
you, you should forgive them. Now I say hate forever, just kidding.
Really, I believed this to be an event. My brother called me a hideous
freak of nature (he really did once) (okay to be fair I don't think
that he knew what it meant, we were very young). So my role was to
forgive him right then and there.
Now I think that forgiveness is not one mystical event, but a choice
that is made at every point of rememberance. This choice might include
something along the lines of refraining from thinking negativily,
avoiding hating, maybe praying for the other, thinking of complements
toward the other, planning an act of goodwill, punching the air... in
excitement of your accomplishment of forgiveness.
Bye love b

Hole

Why is it that when you take the word "hole" and stick it on the end of another word it makes the word so much more vulgar. For example take the word cake. That is a pleasant word. I think I'd like a piece of cake, maybe a carrot cake or a bunt cake.

Nobody says, "You stupid cake," or "Shut your fat cake." But add hole to the end and it is terrible. I can't even say it on this blog, the producers won't let me. Then there's butt hole, or dumb hole, or meanie hole. You don't think that's vulgar? Try saying it to a cop the next time he is tasering you, (or pulling you over for those of you who are less rebellious.)

it is good to sit up straight

It seems to me that I have periodically known people who like the association towards something maybe even more than the thing itself.


I have had professors that speak with a sense of authority, as if the words proceeding forth from their qualified, experienced lips were a quintessential experience in scholarship. I have had other professors that spew words that are evidences of intense scholarship. The former reject a students verbal reference to a popular media during an in-class discussion, only to moments later stoop to equally banal behavior. With these one has no way of knowing what will be looked upon with favor and what will not. It seems one is drawn in to a posture of trying to please this professor who sets the standard. The other professors seem to be more interested in the information, and less in the image.
Have you had professors like these?

Skin on Frame

I have been trying to make a kayak. It is a skin on frame style. I took a tree that no one wanted, maybe it was pine. I split it with many wooden wedges. I used a circular saw to cut it into planks. With the two long planks that are the gunwales, I tied the ends together. With a short board I opened the planks, making the general kayak shape.  The part that is challenging is bending boards for ribs that make the hull shape. I don't want to make a steamer. So I might make a form. An interesting thing that I learned is that the keel on a skin on frame boat is called a keelson because it is under the skin and does not touch the water.

I was cutting the earth yesterday, when I looked at some handsome worms. What if there was a super hero that had a worm arm. It would be kind of clear, it would stretch and contract, it would expand and shrink, I think that it would be pretty disgusting. Bad guys would run just because it was gross.

Short

I went to a concert sometime back, the Ralph Stanley band. For me it was one of the best concerts that I have been to. The band probably had a terrible time. The sound person according to the musicians was extremely incompetent. They continually complained about the sound. I loved the show because they all were such skilled musicians. I think that it is interesting that I could have loved a show that they probably hated. 

Down South

I have been found staring, neck bent to glimpse the odd, disfigured, idealized figure of Christ suffering on the cross. My young mind, proud with my perspective that Jesus didn't stay on the cross. He rose from the dead. "Why do they leave him on there?" I thought. I probably looked around to see the other characteristic that I was unused to in an environment such as this, that is in a Roman Catholic church. 

I am not intending to leave a judgement, but rather an observation. I have as of late come to an understanding of a possible purpose for an icon of a suffering Christ. I have been reading about suffering Christians in El Salvador. I see now that a person, even myself, could feel helped to an unknown degree, in an unknown way, by the reminder that Christ suffered too, that Jesus suffered for me. Perhaps this would come in a visual form. If an entire people were poor, oppressed and suffering, perhaps this visual aid would be found in the common area of a church. 

Thanks 

B

Thoughts

It is so interesting to me that people preach sermons that are little more than stories. Often it is a stretch to connect the story to scripture. At some churches the story incorporates contemporary culture, at others not so much. I have visited what may be called seeker friendly churches that incorporate current film clips and popular songs, and do have high attendance. Many of the churches that I have visited are a little short on biblical teaching.

I attended a spoken word performance by the former lead singer of Black Flag, Henry Rollins. For more than two hours he captivated the audience. Many sermons last thirty minutes or less with the reason that people can't listen for longer.

I want to see churches engaging contemporary culture with solid, interesting, and deep biblical teaching. I don't think that it is enough to merely tell a story that is intended to illustrate a biblical principle. I don't think it is enough to merely bring popular culture into church to make it feel relevant.
What might be as alluring as Henry Rollins is a deep teaching blended with interesting culture.

Alright!

I was asked the question: "How do you think one gets sucked into impatience? Do you think we get it by being around those who are not patient? or by a need for instant gratification. . . " It seems to me that impatience is a natural tendency that is tamed by practice and learning. It also seems that various cultures value and cultivate patience at different levels and at different times. I have seen a trend for rural folk to be very patient when an unexpectedly long line is at hand, and very impatient New Yorkers at a predictable and expected long line. When I lived in NY I began walking fast on the sidewalks, groaning at a just missed train, and taking to the curb when rubber necking tourists clogged up the sidewalks. It is good to for one to have a self governed limit on impatience. But when a weak will is able to be rewarded with a nearly unlimited potential for instant gratification, it might lead to a progressive acceptance of weak "will-ed-ness". It is nice to have backup, that is, to have a band of counter-cultural sounding boards. Thanks for the question. Love B

Tuesday

I looked at the number of blogs that I had posted in a month and my record is 14. It is very hard to write more than that. I would have to write one a day or more.

Okay, My eyes were temporarily entranced by a cool show on NOVA. It is about ice flow and glacier movement. Large ice chunks have been seeking independence more and more lately. A man used time laps photography to capture a chunk of ice wider than the isle of Manhattan that had calved off of the main glacier. The ice that surfaced from deep in the glacier was a mystical blue. The air had been pressed out of it, thus it became blue. Dude, it reminds me of what it might look like to see something similar to the visions described in prophetic books of the Bible, visions that described things made of precious stones.  The blue ice looks like a two ton emerald, but even more beautiful in my opinion. 

Bed Face

I have experienced a strange sight. A dog that I know has fairly long hair. He was sleeping and when he awoke he had bed face. The hair on his snout was all awry. Do you know how long it took me to find out how to spell awry? I mean it was more than like five seconds. Gosh. I am so impatient that if I don’t find out what I want to know right now... Well let's just say that I tend to get sucked into an impatient perspective.

No Title

Wow. Stacy and I were house sitting. The owners of the house had a satellite dish. It was slow to respond, would cut out periodically, and some channels were not available in stormy weather. We watched the Disney Channel on the occasion. Are you kidding me? There are kids that act in a regular show, special guest on other shows, star in made for TV movies, record albums, and perform music videos all on the Disney Channel. It seems like Disney owns these kids. It is shocking.
Disney owns a lot of things.

Our internet has been out.

Do you ever have it where you are talking to someone and what they are saying isn't amounting to much? At the same time as the person isn't really saying anything, their body language is very active and excited. Their body language is saying, "Agree with me and get excited about what I am saying." Their mouth is stringing together words with little meaning. 

That happens to me sometimes. I usually don't know how to respond.

Translation

I tried to look at a web page and it was in french. Google tried to translate it for me and this is what it said in part.

Beginning in April, Damien Mercier and two slackers will try to beat the record high for a Highline Kjerag Norway. To clear Christian Schou tablets, they must pass a strap secured 2.5 cm wide stretched between two peaks climbing to over 1000 meters above the ground. Meet one of the tightrope of a new order.

Writing by Sport24.com on 19-03-2009 

Guillaume Cauchois

Mercier Damien loves to defy the laws of gravity. And play with the vertigo. Slackline pioneer in France, Savoy 29 years has found all the variants of this practice, born in the United States there are more than twenty years, during a training period in California in 2002. A revelation. "After observing climbers of Yosemite Park which saw the exercise as a good complement for climbing, I started to train on a short strap to the ground (trickline). I had m'accroche because it requires great concentration, good reflexes and a perfect mastery of his body. Then I started to travel longer distances (longline) before crossing my first Highline. When one stands in balance to several hundred meters, very quickly feel weightless. Due to security, we forget completely empty! "

I found it at http://www.sport24.com

4, 2

You know what my dad taught me? A lot of things, but one of the things that I just recently understood that he taught me was confidence in painting letters. I remember seeing him paint flowing elegant letters with confidence. I remember seeing this and thinking, “So that is a good way to paint letters.” I have always just painted letters with confidence until the other day when I realized that I learned it as a youngster.