Give me the train
Give me control,
Even some
Just enough
To run out on those beams
Of oak wood
Driftwood
And stand there
Roar in my face
And rumble beneath me
Until I am flying above it
With wings
And a smile.

Emptiness bears down on the cavity in my chest

Forces its nothing weight upon my nothing soul

Like the nothing love permeating my bones

Fatigue rolls over my body in waves

That crash like thunder against me

Invisible and unbearable

Guilt crouches beside me with an ever present echo

Softly it seeps in lies with actual recollections

Of my own faults displayed for correction

Anger threatens to harm me

Disturbed by some thought of betrayal

Turns itself inward and laughs at me

And somehow,

Transcending all of these,

Something in me still finds Hope

Standing in the rubble

The burden is on the Young
Tell me I'm not alone
In this cold war
Where men are not men
And none are as they seem

The burden is on the Heart
Which aches for love,
But is never resolved
It wallows in the corner of our cage
And leaks into our spirit above

The burden is on the Mind
That plans and fails
And spins into wild mad convictions
Of ever changing truths

This is You.
This is Me.
We are only humans.

Thoughts From the Lawn Mower (2)

God is hiding something very important from us, I think.

How would it be possible for God to create something that He did not already know about, and yet design it so perfectly that the intricate details of its makeup cannot even be replicated by humans? I'm thinking the words not likely. So where then does hatred, jealousy, triviality, deceit, etc. come from? I then thought, well it comes from the Enemy. But...if one trusts in the Bible, he or she would believe it to be true that the Enemy was actually cast out from Heaven. Well, what then caused such vile things to enter Heaven? Who was the original authority of the Evil in that time (or un-time, or something) when Satan became proud?
.

Then I thought, what if God knew of such things as hatred and deceit because of some existence prior to His?

If God is sovereign, did He actually orchestrate all of the evil Himself? But then He claims to be good...and I think He is...but the whirlwind that seems to be my life right now is making it difficult to discern anything. Then again, I've been questioning my judgement for a few weeks now. My judgement of character, at least. So how can I really judge God's character to know if He is good...fuck it. I should probably finish mowing the other half of the yard now.


What if God's lonely? If I were the only human in existence, I'd feel pretty sucky. Maybe that's one human emotion that God knew how to create because He feels it Himself.

Numb to the waters of the quiet sea
Sliding into a solitary state of ease
The ashes of morning,
The billows of smoke
I've fought and I've cried
And the fighting has ceased.

Wallow in waves of deep blue and deep purple
Turn and I toss and the error still murmurs
The ashes of morning,
The tears of a child
I've layed here and slept
To the lull of a sermon outside.

I cannot wake up
While I cannot sleep
I spin on this wheel of incredulity.

One waterfall flowing
One limb up above
Jump and dive down with the courage of Birth.

Today's Sketches

Sitting in the harbor of the sun
A man looks across the sea
He asks the Son if he can enter
The Son does as He pleases.

lost in the water

in the sea,

in the river

pulled with the current

drowning down under

spinning and looking and thrashing and kicking

but closed in the view

of the whirlpool above you

the boats are all gone

the people abandoned

you're down and you're drowning and the fish are all watching

compassionless ocean
saves no discretion
no bias, no judgement
but only the current
die if you do
it's the fate of the ocean
your life is consumed
in the water's decision
and no one is there
no soul up above
only demons below
and the Depth is forbidden
so when do you calm
and accept suffocation
when do you die with the sunset's permission
no reason for worry
no reason for grace
no mercy, no substance, no Christ on the waves
and then you look down
in the darkening sea
and shut your eyes tight
and drift off in your dream.

Chau Ram River

The water molecules split into a thousand million atoms as my forehead broke the calm surface of the water, followed nearly simultaneously by my nose, jaw line, neck, I felt it breach my shoulders, slide over my back, consume my legs, tickled my feet. I dove like an arrow from atop the rocks and into the deep river, torpedoing for the bottom, but never touching before my legs swung around to push me upward and my arm muscles braced themselves for liftoff. I rose up to the surface and broke for air. I felt alive.

After a long night of little sleep (I last saw 4:02am before my eyes finally stayed shut), it was difficult to get going this morning around 9:00am. The house was awake with morning clatter; company was over to retrieve Jared, the son, for a summer vacation for which he was asked to come along and provide man-power (I thought it pretty funny); I felt weak and tired, but wanted to resume some pottery work before we went out to the lake. 

The company left before I managed to conjure up enough energy to slide out of bed. They'd only been there for breakfast, after all. I come waddling out of my back room looking terrible as ever and quite array even for my typical mornings. Poured some coffee, ate some biscuits and apple butter, did other things I assume before going outside that I can't recall due my current state of fatigue, etc. etc.

I completed a bit of pottery work, had a revelation about my life being like a leaf, and then it was 5 o'clock. Karen, Bill, and I piled into the car with towels and headed for Chau Ram River.

We hiked for quite a while up the modest path that followed the river's edge, and we could see family's and lone dare-devils spotting the banks here and there. I so admired the river. It was broad and full, almost masculine looking from far away, with great boulders bursting up from its depths and absorbing the hot sun without any regard for the above one hundred degree temperatures.

We continued down the trail and eventually I noticed I could no longer hear voices -- only the rushing of the water and the mutual conversation among us.

The trail came to a head at a great rock that jutted out from the hillside. Boulders all around, the forest glowing with evening sunlight and its leaves shimmering like emeralds. The water sparkled with that gold light and small insects hovered above its surface and then scattered for no observable reason. At Karen's request (slash command), Bill got in first and tested the depths. I waited anxiously above on the rocks, having already flung off my over-shirt and stripped my shoes and socks. I got the "okay", backed up as far as possible, and darted off the edge into the water...



We were all alone at the water hole. Once the waves of our entrance subsided, the waters became still and calm, and we floated like ghosts and icebergs and absorbed the peaceful moment in time.

It wasn't long before the rapids nearby held my attention fully captive. Boulders and rocks and ledges and slopes, airborne waterfalls and gushing water -- there was no resisting.

I swam to the rocks in the middle there of the river and was pleasantly surprised to find that they were all connected and there was little worry of slipping in between two ledges and getting stuck in a current. I began to explore. I leaped and hopped (or delicately crawled) to each rapids I could find. Some proved not very difficult to lay down in, and in those I experimented and observed how the water moved along my body and how the currents seemed to attach to my skin and pour forth, underwater, in separate streams of their own. The bending of light often caused illusions and a variety of color in the waves (also due to the incredible amount of moss strands that clung to the walls. I felt happier than a child.

I came to one set of rapids that seems imminently more powerful than all the rest -- it was not a false perception. In order to brace just one leg in the midst of the gushing waves, I had to spear a rock and use more calf and quad muscle than I knew I had. I brought another leg in. More of me meant more obstacles for the water to force its way around, and I soon felt I may not be able to stand the rapids. I wasn't too far off in thinking, as not long after I had my legs in I found myself being sucked into the water and drug down.

Disclaimer: we're talking like, four feet of water with large smooth rocks underneath. Not really dangerous.

The force of the water was incredible and the speed was even more surprising. As a natural instinct I was screaming. As the result of being an adrenaline junkie, I was laughing even louder. The water pulled me a fair distance away from my starting point and it took a minute before I was able to find footing. I did, pulled myself out of the water -- still laughing and hollering with excitement since I was shocked that it had actually drug me away -- and then just breathed a minute. I decided to head back to the water hole.

We spent some more time there relaxing a bit, and I dove off the big rock a few more times. When we were all tuckered out we climbed back up to our clothes and towels and dried off, headed down the trail, and left Chau Ram River. I had no more energy, no more food in my system, and an absolute feeling of satisfaction and simple happiness. Tomorrow, we return with the tubes. Look out Chau Ram -- I'll be back.

Like the Leaves

I walked up from the studio along the small path cut through the trees, trudging up each homemade wooden step and shuffling through the dirt. I opened the quaint gate at the top, made sure there were no feisty chickens nearby who could run through, and came into the side yard. It was hot, and I was a bit worn on my pottery making for the time. I couldn't quite focus anyhow. 

There is a small bench swing that sits beside the gate underneath some quiet trees. The chicken coop was next to it, and a small red storage barn next to that. I sat on the bench and swung my legs back and forth, contemplating something, whatever it was.

I noticed several fallen leaves tucked into the slits of the seat. Most of them were dead, but I spotted one that seemed to be hanging on to its fading color. A solemn orange, brown edges, already warped in its shape. I picked it up; it was so fragile. I looked long and hard at the life that seemed to be dying.

It had so much potential to be beautiful and strong. I could tell in its faded color that it must have been a gorgeous leaf. The heat had killed it, and while some leaves still clung green to their tree limbs, this one didn't make it. It was not yet dead, but even the gentlest touch was dangerous, and to grasp it firmly in your warm and caring hand would make it crumble. It had several holes already where something had either nibbled away at it, bit by bit, or where it could simply no longer sustain life in those places. A faint bit of yellow, I saw. Some black around the edges.

I tried to straighten some of its edges to better admire this leaf that would not quite give up its purpose, but when I did I caused a small crack in its frail body. I decided not to touch it again. I think it may have appreciated that.

And yet, as I could only think of how unfair it seemed that this leaf was torn away from its life source too soon, I thought of how it might bring forth new and flourishing life if it was simply allowed to decompose entirely and thus fertilize the soil. Perhaps that's how it works. It has to die before it can birth something new and beautiful. And then I thought, maybe it's just okay. So I went in and ate lunch.

South Carolina Log

2:13am. For weeks now I haven't been sleeping. It's gotten worse in recent days.

I've learned to make pottery, and learned that I actually have a natural knack for it. I've been turning pots and mugs and plates and honey jars like I used to turn cardboard into rockets. I'll write a piece sometime about how it feels to work with the clay and let your fingers gently mold its smooth and pliable form into a great piece of art. The feeling is so natural, so invigorating.

We've also been exploring the mountains and waterfalls in the area. That too is invigorating. It gives me an immeasurable sense of purpose to dance down the roots and rocks of a cliff side, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, to reach the bottom of a waterfall and look up at its magnificence and beauty. I run like a child when I run through the woods. I'm happy like a child when I run through the woods.































One night we went out to a lake (one tucked away from the main roads enough that only locals go there). We hiked a small trail to the beach. White sand, vast blue water, strikingly beautiful, green trees that lined the shores like soldiers protecting their queen. I threw off my over-shirt and kicked off my shoes. Dug my toes into the sand for a moment, and sprinted into the water, splashing into its muddy shallows with no grace and complete joy. We had a small fire where we cooked supper and ate, staring off into the orange and blue clouds that rose like ancient giants above our mortal bodies. I came home with sand in my clothes and a heavy load of rocks I'd collected as I ran up and down the beach exploring. I was simply happy.











































2:31am. There's a reason I've not been sleeping. This week in South Carolina has not been without purpose. I was only vaguely aware of what would be revealed to me when I came here. I did not know I would learn things about my past that have haunted me all my life like an unseen weight on my chest that I could never explain. The panic attacks, the substance abuse, the depression, the torturous thought processes and always feeling so misplaced in life. I never knew. But now that I know, I cannot sleep. Each night I turn the light out and try to settle into sleep, but my mind feeds on the idleness. It needs time to process, and during the day I fight it too much. And then I never sleep.


Insomnia. Another sign. Imagine that.

I can accept it for now. I'm not sure that I can accept the cause of my symptoms, and am so far in the second stage of the process. And then I ask if I have any process to go through at all, and I'm back at stage one. I had no idea...I had no idea of the far reaches. No one ever does, I think.

2:38am.

These are my nights. I count the clock and wrestle with myself until I throw off the covers and march around the house like a mad soldier at night. Too much to deal with, but too much at stake not to. Far reaches.

2:41am.

Tomorrow we hike some more. I'm very much looking forward to it! We'll wake around 8:30, turn some more pottery, fire the dry pieces I think, and then head for...I can't remember where we're going. But then it's late. I didn't even realize there was a home computer in the house until I'd already told everyone that the internet connection was down- it was only the wi-fi. Home computer, check. Problem solved.

I feel so trapped. Trapped in a closet like an old jacket. I can only drown myself in the South Carolina sun for so long. So much light shed on my life, and so much that I almost wish had stayed behind the clouds. But for truth's sake, do I go on? Ignorance is not bliss. It's sure as hell a lot less painful sometimes.

2:49am. Hell.

Solitude and depression are not always so dark. In fact, being in that state of mind allows even the smallest bit of light to give you joy. Seeing a crack of luminescence in a cold cave. Such a small thing, but so hopeful. Were we always in the sunlight, we would not notice its warmth, and we would pay no remark to the beauty that it illuminated for us to see. A firm and loving embrace means more to us when we're collapsed on the ground than when our serotonin levels are full and flowing. Perhaps I am too dazed already in the substances I've consumed to "straighten" myself out. But then I thought...maybe this is just okay. Maybe everything's okay, because it's life and it's got to be.

I rest there.

Off to the airport...

Tomorrow morning, the 3rd, I'll be loading suitcases into the car and puttering off to the airport. I'm spending a week in South Carolina with some good friends of mine up in the mountains. They live in a small home in the middle of the woods, and Karen, the mother, is very much like me. She's in several ways a hippie, living among the trees, collecting acorns and leaves for crafting, making pottery in a modest shed out back. She's also a thinker, though, as with myself, I can't quite depict the actual thoughts of a thinker. It's more like a painting of concepts running through the mind, twenty at once.

That to say, upcoming posts through July 10th may be sparse. I'm not sure what the internet connection is like there, since our previous visits have been too brief for bringing things such as laptops and iPads. And quite frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. I'll be too long outside in the woods or in the shed learning to make clay jars and mugs that I don't really foresee myself spending much time with the apples. However, I grant that if the internet connection is reliable, I may actually be able to update a bit on the trip, and with any other thoughts I have, as usual. If so, it will be late at night when I do. I just wanted to give you all a notice about the coming week if I fail to post.

I'm so excited for my time in Carolina! Oh my sweet Carolina. (Shall be listening to that song as I fly.)

Hope to be back on soon! For now, it's back to washing some old clothes and digging out suitcases!

Sayonara