another shift

I find that a subtle shift in emphasis or perspective can make right action quite a bit easier. One example of this is found among the screeches, muck, and discarded chewing gum of the NYC transit. When riding the subway my eye would occasionally prick my mind with an inquiry. "What was on that ad.?" or "What was scratched into the wall"

Once I inched my way toward the wall careful not to touch it for fear that its surface contained something such as, disease. I was right in thinking that the wall gave support to some unknown danger. I was foolishly clueless, to the fact that the real danger could do something much more significant than merely harm my body.

While scanning the letters I was given a hand. I had caught wind of the wretched stench that was not wafting up from whatever was decaying on the tracks, but from whatever was decaying in some one's heart, and was recorded on this wall.

Oh, but temptation had grabbed hold of me. I told myself, "Don't read, Don't read." The prohibition was fuel for the flames. The glutton, Temptation, was growing fat.

I read it. I opened my mind and soul to it. My guilt flowed.
Then to my mind, like a simple clear note, came the words, "Remind yourself of this before you read something next time. When curiosity is strong be firm in your memory of the possible and likely result of looking. And don't say, 'Don't read,' say, 'You don't want to read that."

It worked I didn't read another vulgarity. I wanted to at first. Upon remembering, I didn't want to. I didn't have to fight, to struggle against desire. I had realigned my desire with right desire, it was resurrected.

Love

B

Long time coming

Daily I am faced with the choice to seek instant pleasure or do work; to have fun or to slave away.

What is wrong with this perspective? What a dull out look on life.

Dear, really the choice is to seek a cheap, temporary thrill or to work towards the creation of a life building pleasure-joy. One will let me feel good quickly and leave me addicted and wanting. The other will take time but will last and cause real good.

I am speaking generically, but I am thinking about very specific things. For me the "cheap" thing is anything that does little more than tickle my senses.

Proportion is important.

I want to spend more time investing.

The stories of my scars

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. 

I am a skinny fellow. It could be said that in my younger days I enjoyed squeezing into tight spaces. The spaces in between cars or behind couches became a venue to showcase my talent. This talent is one that I have little responsibility for. My genetic disposition, or as some may call it, being born in the sign of the bean pole, warrants me little, to none, of the credit I so longingly sought by squeezing behind things.

At one such time, I began to squeeze behind the couch. A sharp pain met my right foot. I quickly sat down on the carpet to see why my foot hurt so badly. I found a large and wide cut with something white (which I assumed was tendons) inside. 

Calmly and collectedly I said, “Dad will you come look at my foot?”

He looked at it and off we went to the emergency room. 

a pat on the back

I was proud of myself today. I love taking things that are rejected by people, set out as trash, and giving them a new life and purpose. I love fixing things that are being neglected because they are broken, I love giving usefulness. 

In the barn there was a wheel barrow (as a kid I thought it was "wheel barrel") with a flat tire. These kinds of tires are like car tires, they have no tube. The tire seals against the rim. So to fill the tire a seal has to be made.  If a large portion of air is forced into the tire, the air itself will force the tire to seal. All I have is a small bike pump.  So I tied a string around the tire and put blocks of wood to squeeze the tire. It worked. Squeezing the tire was enough to make a seal. The wheel barrow has been rescued.

A View of Depression?

I am not sure that depression is exactly what I experience but I wanted to make an attempt at communicating what I do experience.

It seems to me that this trial that I am experiencing is maybe the hardest trial. If I had experienced something like a great job loss or another tragic event, I could rejoice in the Lord due to my relationship, experience, and foundation in him throughout the event. My trial seems to be a loss not in terms of my environment such as my job, car, or family. It seems like a loss of my relationship and experience of the Lord. I am left clinging to the foundation. This might not sound too bad because of my use of the word foundation. What I mean is that what I have is logical, and intellectual ties to the truths of the Lord. My experience has come to counter these ties (truths). I seek to think of good things, or to take it to the Lord in prayer, my experience is worry, fear, anxiety without material cause and without warning. I try to seek relationship thorough prayer but my emotions and body makes me wholly unable to see the validity in any activity, including prayer. I am left as I said before, clinging to the intellectual truth (which suddenly seems very impotent) that prayer is valuable. It seems that one type of trial is when something tragic happens and “all is well with my soul” because the Lord is unmistakably present. And my type of trial is that nothing tragic has happened but it feels like the Lord is no where to be found. 

To be accurate the tragedy of my trial seems to be the haphazard condition of my emotions. Another troubling aspect is that I find myself constantly fearing a usual trial, that is the external trials given above. The thought is that because I can’t handle the non-trial, I will have no hope in the trial. I have always believed that I had nothing to fear because no matter what happened the Lord was with me, helping me. I know this intellectually but I have a strong worry that it will feel like he isn’t there, like it seems now.

The Smell on My Bike

It is not really my bike, but I ride it. The tires are slightly flat so that they make a funny noise when I ride. My weight slightly squishes the tube. These poor man's shocks give me a smooth ride until I grimace when the rough Michigan road makes me hit the rim. 

As I ride, I smell. Riding on the current of the wind, the smell of lilacs fills my environment. It transforms the air into a sweet dessert. I ride through fruit preserve spread thickly on toast. I can feel the coarse, pitted surface of the toast against my tires. I struggle to pedal through this viscous air. 

I am suddenly hit by exhaust that fills my face. Now I am riding once again on broken roads through polluted air.

Whaaat?

I was looking for a synonym of anxious, one of the options that I found in an electronic thesaurus was “having kittens”.

I am totally having kittens over my exam this week.

Check out these one’s. I am really in a lather because of that money issue, thing. 

I’ve never been in a dither all my life, I’m cool as a cucumber. I am really on tenterhooks about my trip to the dump, I hear there are rats.