This Post Has Ironic Qualities

I promised myself that I would post tonight, but wasted the night on Facebook whilst avoiding the dishes.  Now that I am completing them (the dishes), I am too tired to do more than post this measly half-joke.

(in case you are wondering, this is a post about the absence of a post... thus ironic.... kinda)

Book Writing And Devotionals

I've been writing again.

There exist two books which have been merrily swimming about in my brain juices for more than a few years.  One is a children's book, the other a science-fiction fantasy book.

The first book never goes the direction I feel it should, though I still think it works as a concept and have pieced together a story of sorts.  I downloaded a 'Publishing Children's Books: For Dummies' book on my iPhone, but got distracted by writing the sci-fi fantasy book before I could get too far into learning the next steps.  The sci-fi fantasy book, I think, is finally mapped out in enough detail and realism that it will work if I can just bring myself to put the detail to the pages.  My plan is to just publish it in electronic form, maybe as a free kindle book.  Hopefully the catharsis merits the effort.

**If I die before accomplishing anything of note, search my computer and journals.  There's enough material there for someone to be a starving artist.

As someone who plays too much Fantasy Football and mindlessly watches/consumes the NFL in copious portions, I have decided to try and make this time less of a complete waste.  I've contacted at least one person about starting a Sunday Football devotional.  Since I'm a misplaced Titan's fan living in the frozen tundra, I've succumbed to peer pressure and will name it "Prayers then Packers."

The concept is easy - praise God, then waste a few hours of the life He gave you.

Anyone interested, shoot me an email.  I don't know how large we'll grow this, as it isn't likely to be hosted at my (cable tv free) house, but we'll see what happens - and inter-faith devotionals are always the best.  I figure, that way we increase the odds that one of us is praying in the right direction.

Hippie, Once Removed

"I take photographs, often while in my favorite places.  I don't know why I take these photographs, as if to chart the passage of time like a flip book, filling yet another volume with near identical snapshots.

I lean out onto the rocky outcroppings to capture the familiar, not-quite-right framing of building, lake, and trees.  My skin is cold in the early September air, but within me I have a heart which is warm, alive, and beating.

And hiking around, the soles of my shoes are worn.

And hiking around, my own soul is revived.

Around me the air is full, brimming with the scent of things nearly done living.  Inward I draw their spirit as it passes from the world, and exhaling I share the joys of summer given.  The leaves that remain lend a voice to the wind and it cries of change, sighs renewal, and proclaims the moving on of another year well-lived.  I hear it now, in a one-time performance, and will not forget it.

Why do I take pictures of the same things when they already fill album after album?  Maybe it is to fulfill the superstition.  Maybe capturing the spirit of life and holding it still in time will remind me that I was once young and there was a day when my wife and I held a devotional in the forest, and took communion with the wind in the trees.

I am here now, in this moment, breathing in the spirit of things which have existed only to pass on - to me, at this exact time.

*click*" -JB 09/05/11

I love trees, and I would consider naming a child River, Lotus, Sage, or Autumn - but I am not truly a hippie.  I am the son of a true hippie - a man who sought truth passionately and, I like to think, found it.  There is a freedom in searching, as you give yourself away completely to the process.  There is a freedom in finding yourself again, transformed.

Sometimes I feel that I have never had to search, but then I remove myself from the trappings of society and, feeling that I have found something of substance, realize that my search was merely quieter than some who have come before.

My father was a hippie.  I guess that makes me a hippie, once removed.

Kodachrome Once Captured

We listened to Tracy chase a Cat, and our chaperone laughed as she drove us to the Devil in your red Pontiac Bonneville.  You a tan peacoat and me my expectation, we saw a sunset burning in the trees and everywhere the sumac was bleeding.  I breathed in life with every breath and the crying down of leaves at the end of the season felt more like a new beginning.

Those are my favorite shoes I've ever owned

We climbed Boulder Mountain with the sweet taste of apple still lingering in our mouths. Driving home in slow motion, your smile lingered long after we'd forgotten about the apples.

 

For so long, I labored under the impression that I look much the same as I did before... and for so long I was right.  It startles me to look at photos from a decade ago and realize that this is no longer true.  Some dour, heavier Jamal has taken the place of the smiling, near-cute one that Kodachrome once captured.

Damn it all.

Everything (Always) Is Full Of Life

Look At That, He Said Pointing

i passed an epiphany on the floor one day

missed the point and left it lay

growing none the wiser

JB - 09/01/11

We’re all still trying to get to that concert; the one where our favorite band sings a song of freedom to the heart; when our friends gather together, growing bold and new from the experience; when everything is different after, seen from the perspective of one who stood on the threshold of ecstasy and looked down over the sea of life, understanding it all.

Always it rides on the edge of our vision.  Every moment and none are that concert.  We live unaware of the splendor that surrounds, never having consciously acknowledged the import of it all. 

In the end, only the end matters.  If we could lift our heads to gaze out on the horizon, all would come into focus.  Yet, even knowing this, we are distracted by that which blazes past as the world spins madly on.

Life, as always, couches its answers in a new mystery to solve.  It is not the passing epiphany which carries import, but the implementation of that which one knows they must change.