So many things.

I am unsure. And among the most capable People I know.

I am talented But feel I have no worth Making messes instead of art.

I am loved Though forgetting this At every negative whim.

This morning, I am watching the sun rise. There is a breeze. Thankfully, a breeze.

It will be a cool morning. The grueling heat will come later, and not as bad. Fall is making its way to where I live. But it is painfully slow.

I will skip breakfast today. There is drawing to do and existential crisis to have.

I am sore and tired this morning from crawling around under the car all day yesterday. Replaced: Wheel speed sensors (welcome back cruise control), an oil change, new air filters, and cleaning up the engine. I'll have to remove one of the valve covers and install a new gasket as we've managed to develop an oil leak on the rear passenger side of the six cylinder power plant.

I am freaked out about the motorcycle accident. I was okay when I saw him get up and walk away. But now that he's posted online that he broke his pelvis in 3 places, I'm much more worried. First that he's going to be okay. Second that he's not a vindictive opportunist. We do carry comprehensive coverage, but we don't have high limits... I dread the idea of ending up in court over this.

I have an active imagination that won't let me rest.

It is strange that someone who can so deeply and clearly see the beauty in everything can also see the horror. It's part of why I quit watching the news.

Shin called. We had a WONDERFULconversation. He's just a joy to exchange ideas. He had some scuttlebutt/rumors related to a big meeting next month. Suggestions are to some pretty significant schedule changes. I'll wait to see. Nothing would surprise me.

Things with him and the wife are going well. He was distressed that a neighbor got scooped up by ICE agents last night/this morning. Screaming and lights woke them at the outrageous crack of dawn where the neighbor was saying goodbye to her kids to head to work as a hotel manager. It is reported that her mother brought her here as an infant. She grew up, raised a family and was working as a professional until about 12 hours ago.

This is a heavy topic and I shared my own experiences with disappeared people. We need God's kingdom more than ever. For each of us, certainly, but more so for those who are unprotected and manipulated by an evil world.

Heavy subjects for two artists, one a new father. We agree that drawing closer together within our congregation is going to be vital if we're going to make it through what comes.

He's in the middle of a big client project. They shifted directions mid-delivery, so he is in the position of having to negotiate more money. Not fun, but helpful if you can get the client to cooperate.

I was able to catch him up on all the goings on. I was surprised we hadn't spoken in a few weeks. The man has become like a brother to me. Which is good. I need a brother.

It left me feeling quite buoyant.

The broken pelvis thing, less so.

Insurance. I have insurance, that's their job. We've been paying them $1-2k a year for more than 25 years without a claim. It's time for them to do their job.

I think my bigger worry is Ng.

How long do I trust her behind the wheel? This is pretty major. Do I dare risk a greater catastrophe?

Thinking about it makes me feel lost.

But here I am. I can touch.

I see a stuffed leopard. An empty air filter box. Pink string, a copy of Verisimilitude vol 1., a toy robot, an eyeglass cleaner with teh word LOOK on it. I can breathe. I can see. I can smell. What treasures can a man want other than to experience life? If everything I can touch were stripped away, I could still tell stories. I could still write and draw and cry and sing. Thought that last one, not very well.

Life is not perfect. But it is good. There is good. I feel it. But the darkness tries to shroud it.

I won't let it. You won't either will you?

I know you won't. You are tenacious. And tenacity will get you through. And that gives me hope.

Sunshine comes.

I guarantee it.

Tonight is a meeting night. I will go worship my God. Shake my head at some of the presenters and smile at the points we're being taught.

Next week, we're going to host 8 ppl on Tuesday evening for what we used to call 'goodie night'. We would do this once a month years ago when we met in our home to study the Bible. That arrangement has been gone for a long time, we decided it was time to re-invoke some of the flavor. So hopefully we'll tell some stories and share fruit and charcuterie.

The week after that, we're going to invite a family for a real adventure. Get in the field and discover. More on that later.

I sat out last night for a long time and looked at the sky. There were some clouds, but I could still see the night sky between the floating billows. All those stars. Every one with a name. Wow. I had that old feeling again of wishing I could fly. Just stand up and launch into the sky. If I could have, I wouldn't have gone anywhere specific... just up into the atmosphere. Maybe come down on some dark beach somewhere and sit for a while there and listen to the surf.

Life is changing for all of us. Faster than we can really tell. I think of last Thursday and how much has happened in those short 7 days. People were born, people died. They told stories. They fell in love. They had their hearts broken. They cried. They laughed. Someone found God. Someone else lost their way.

We are the all singing, all dancing, troupe of humanity.

We read, eat, sing, scream, love, and savor life. Seize the day, as it were.

Some days that means you set sail on a world adventure. And others? You just sit and write about it. Draw a picture. Drink a cup of tea. Just reflect.

When you do, try to savor the good. Not as in 'the good old days', but as in all of us have wonder and love in our lives. Focus on that. Smile that someone cares about you. Smile if they don't like you. At least you mean enough for them to take notice.

And I think that is beautiful.

#amber #weather #gravity#undertow #north

bare branches

Before dawn’s whisper, I rise— A navy sky not yet ready to sail. A body still heavy with sleep and confusion.

Then, suddenly, the road Is humming an old hymn Empty twilight nibbling Headlights in the fog.

A mind hitting on the Black fuel of morning While silent prayers Drift up to the unseen.

Glass eyes and smiles— Because he knows what waits: A day of light and truth, Smiles and hugs and love.

He calls them brother and sister Like they are lost family, Because they are. Lost in ways they don't even know.

Joy is the hilight, even as The soul knows it drifts Further from shore Than its ever been.

Faces of happiness fair winds One lost in doldrums Prays bring him home.

Or at least in the Right direction.

A Program begins, Lubricating the soul. Eyes glass again and a chest Feels tight with missed joy.

Every synapse is suddenly Alive with memory and desire And a longing to be one thing: Good.

HE is here, there is no doubt. After all, 'wherever One or two of you Is gathered together'.

And that is enough, Even though so many Are missing— So many.

One or all, the break Is no less real. Prayers and prayers And prayers

Because what else Can a lost and Broken soul Offer?

But to ask for help.

Ache and pray. It comes and Is part Of Worship

For what Father Does not wish to Know the failings Of a child.

Not to punish, But to salve And sooth And help.

Like light into A window, Spirit pours Into this soul.

And out come whispers of thanks. For truth. For hope.

For the days to come And their morrows To bring every loving One back to this place.

Of peace. Satisfaction.

And joy.

#poetry #amber #museum #orbit #undertow #weather #ghost #gravity

a field report in four bursts directly off the wire

squawk 1

Bob Seger — You'll Accompany Me – plays faintly on the radio

I’m with strange ladies who tell strange stories. Of empty windows and lost husbands. Misplaced numbers frustrate them as we try to track down persons of interest. They are very chatty and have comments about almost everything.

They’re funny and they’re austere. My wife would enjoy their company, but she is too tired today.

This is too bad as she could be the one to gingerly tell one of the ladies that her skirt has caught in her underwear. I suppose, instead that responsibility will fall to me.

After too short a time together, the two women chatter in an alien exchange that is unintelligible to my earthling ears.

Then my ladies abandon me for more fertile, endeavors, something about a blanket and running an errand. I think I need to put more energy in making sure I have a partner. Earthlings need to stick together.

Last night’s storms left the sky hazy and the sun diffused it’s not exactly sunny and it’s not exactly cloudy. It’s that dusty in between. Visually lukewarm. Room temp.

squawk 2

Lynard Skynard – Freebird is on the radio

A phone call comes. Another marriage is going south.

Oh, if only there were something more I could offer than words of comfort and consolation. It seems like families are a special target these days—years of hard work and companionship being dissolved by acid, rust, or blunt force trauma.

I’ve been thinking about the couple. Over the last four years, I’ve had countless meetings with them—counseling, comforting, encouraging, cajoling, directing. But it’s always the same. Each one adamant that the other must change. Each certain that they themselves are already doing enough. It’s a hard pattern to break, especially in old age.

This is her third marriage. His second. At least the failure isn’t for lack of experience—though maybe it’s for lack of humility.

I understand the struggle. I don’t think it ever really goes away, not for any couple. Even after decades, you just find new things to struggle against.

Now the only words I have left are: I’m sorry. And I love you.

— — —

Since you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, let me tell you a little about them.

They married during the pandemic. Both well into retirement and seemingly single and happy.

She lost two husbands to death. He lost a marriage to stubbornness and control.

She is kind, sweet, and soft-spoken. He is hard, direct, and Spartan.

And that difference extends to the way they live.

She believes a home should be full—of people, love, clutter, memories. He wants the same space to be sparse: clean baseboards, empty shelves, limited belongings.

Her heart is a collage. His is a blueprint.

That’s the best analog I can find for who they are emotionally. One makes room. The other clears space. And neither, it seems, is willing to flex for the other.

Come, Lord Jesus!!

squawk 3

Boston-Peace of mind is playing

I finished my walk this morning in the same spot I found myself last Monday. No sign of the great white Pyrenees this time, and fewer conversations along the way. Still, it was good to be out in the weather, to feel like part of the rhythm of things.

Now I’m back to more mundane tasks—like tracking down a giant pack of batteries. Everything seems to need them these days. I honestly don’t know how civilization functioned before batteries. Or, for that matter, why we haven’t come up with something better by now. Maybe that’s just physics keeping us humble. I’m not smart enough to know for sure, but I’m just dumb enough to float the question.

Buying batteries always reminds me of an old flashlight my grandmother kept in her shed. It was a heavy, industrial-looking thing powered by one of those giant, square batteries—blue, with a little red lightning bolt and two terminals on top like stunted horns. The flashlight always looked new: polished, unscuffed, a mirror-bright reflector. It seemed like it should work beautifully.

But every time I tried to use it, it was a letdown. The beam it threw was dim, yellow, and underwhelming. My cousins and I would take it apart and tinker with it, convinced we could fix or improve it. We never did. Each time it went back together with a little less fit, a little more rattle, until eventually it stopped working altogether. Maybe it was the battery. Maybe it was the bulb. Maybe it was us. That flashlight taught me an early lesson: just because something looks ready doesn’t mean it is.

With the morning half gone, I’ve got someone to find—a young man who’s shown interest in learning more about the Bible. He doesn’t seem especially bright at first glance, but when he answers questions, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. There’s something in the way he pauses and considers his words. I take that as a good sign. He’s a thinker, even if the world hasn’t trained him to act like one.

And if I have any time left afterward, I’ll slip into a quiet café corner and make some progress in my journal. Sometimes the best parts of a day are the ones you don’t plan—the walks, the memories, the people who surprise you.

squawk 4

The Knack – My Sharona (I learned recently there is an actual Sharona)

You know how in the Bible it says Satan keeps making himself into an angel of light?

Well, I think I just had a pizza equivalent of that. Faced with temptation greater than I could bear at Sam’s Club, I purchased a gigantic slice of pizza. Four crusty meats dripping with grease.

It was calling to me. “Caaaahhhhhhrrrrpeeeee….” It whispered. “Caaaahhhrrrpeeee Pizzzuuummmmm’”

And I, like a cartoon mouse to cheese, threw my $2.71 at the teller fully intending to share it with Mon petit cho… but just like a devil, once I dallied, I couldn’t stop until the damage was too severe for sharing.

As is with devils made light, I’ll be paying the toll with my soul in a few hours.

The real damming is going to come when I get home as I just learned my mother-in-law and sister-in-law are bringing my wife and I lunch. so I’m not sure how I’m going to explain to those three women that I have zero interest in their delivery of burritos.

The sin of gluttony hangs heavy over my head today, a fatty sword of Damocles.

#milepost #weather #undertow #confetti