Who's Your Daddy?

Is there a God? Or a god? gods certainly, but God? That's entirely different. See what a difference correct grammar and punctuation make? Maybe not, but I see the difference. I wonder about God fairly often, although, I must admit less so as of late? Why? Eh...a number of reasons that mostly are irrelevant, or at least I think they are at this juncture. Going forward, like most anything else, there is a distinct possibility that my thoughts there may change. Anyway, God...I remember when I was a kid I tried to envision what he may look like. Somehow at the ripe old age of something like four I had decided that God looked Atlas. Yep that one. The guy who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders. Now that I think about it though, that's seemingly fitting. The only difference though is that in my head, God was outlined in this fly looking white light. Atlas, or whomever it was in a 4 year old's head, was just kind of grey and cementish. (Yes I see the irony of me previously mentioning correct grammar and now making up a word. Sue me.) Sometimes even now I reflect back on that Lite Brite version of God in all of his glowing splendor. I miss thinking of him that way. He was big and pretty bad ass sitting there in his stoic glory. Totally the guy you would pick first for kick ball if for no other reason than he scare the shit out of the other team. Some days I could really go for that idea. Then there are other days and with them come other thoughts, and sometimes no thought of God at all. But I like to sit and wonder and imagine what he might be like and why and likewise why not. Like today for example I think I have the stereotypical Jesus hanging out in my head. The guy with the wavy brown hair, that heavy white robe with the blue sash, and let's be honest-some epic cheekbones that would make the likes of Kate Moss blush with envy. That Jesus is the kind you would almost definitely smoke a joint with as you sat under the Joshua Tree, or at least I would anyway. I kind of really like that Jesus, even though I can't fathom how he managed to keep that white muslin so clean while traipsing around Jerusalem barefoot and all. I mean, I can't make it through breakfast without getting something on my clothes. Anyway, overall, this version seems like a reasonably cool guy-laid back, open minded, gentle, easy to talk to-I feel like I'm describing my ideal date. Is it weird to say I would date Jesus? Okay, so then there's other Jesus or God. The two terms essentially are interchangeable right? So but this other guy, he's a total ass. I mean really, screaming damnation, hellfire, and brimstone like some enraged drunk at a bar. I wouldn't serve that Jesus a drink for anything. No sir. I'd have him escorted out so fast. Why? Because that Jesus is the one who allows pain and suffering. That's the guy who sends people to hell, which I just can't get on board with no matter how hard I try. That Jesus seems to forget all those really lovely things he preached to thousands of people. He seems like a "do as I say, not as I do" sort of fellow, and well, those sorts just can't be trusted. So I'm curious, what does God look like to you? Why? How do you reconcile asshole Jesus with badass Jesus?

Sometimes it seems the me I used to be is little more than a distant memory. Now my time is comprised mostly of work, or doing things with friends, and maintaining relationships. I used to have this quiet solitude. It was my own blissful respite, away from the world, where I could wade through my thoughts and even acquire new ones. Books, movies, and music kept me company and filled my head with all sorts of dreams and ideas. Even as a child I was quite taken with the notion of dreams. I still remember Gene Wilder in "Willy Wonka" saying "We are the music makers and the dreamers of the dreams." I'm with ya' Gene, even though you look creepy as hell in that Willy Wonka costume. But that idea of a world of music and dreams. Oh to live in that place...to find my way back. Where are the conversations that circle around all sorts of philosophies and ideologies? Where are the rainy nights with good wine, good music, and better conversations? Are those lost and gone with days of the past? Are there more of them patiently awaiting my arrival in the future? I miss my nights tucked away alone in my dimly lit room, enveloped by the deep, soulful sounds of the likes of Zoe Keating. Surely those moments are not lost to times gone by. Surely the girl I once was is still there beneath the piles of paper and social obligations. And maybe the answer is simple enough...turning off the technology and learning to say no to find the girl who dreams the dreams and dares to ask the questions once again.

i've been asked to write a short blurb about my lovely friend michelle...one that captures her love of beauty and art. yet i sit here, with a head full of words, and seemingly nothing to say. i'm reminded of Bukowski who so eloquently states that writing should never be forced. i couldn't agree more. that same notion applies to all art though as when it is something not derived from the heart it's rather meaningless. the true beauty of art lies in the love, the heart, and the soul it takes to create it. Bukowski said with regards to writing "If you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of you, then do something else." Michelle waited, and my oh my did things come roaring out of her. Zeal for life, love of beauty, compassion for mankind, and unwavering peace. These are things that her art displays with big, bold paintings in fantastic colors. Each brush stroke a way to share her passion with the rest of us who maybe couldn't come to it quite on our own.

it's strange sometimes the realizations you have in a seemingly random moment. i don't think they're random at all though. i think we know the answer all along, it's just in a moment that we choose to recognize it. in my own life i think this is true anyway. the answers often are there, right in front of me, but instead of looking directly in the looking glass, i try to peer through it and make things what they aren't. like alice, i'd rather slide down in the rabbit hole. it's funny, tonight brittney said,"you like nothing more than to get lost by yourself." i hadn't thought of it that way before, but she's right. even if getting lost means nothing more than roaming around the mall alone, looking at the pretty things and watching all the people. i like the aloneness. i relish my quiet solitude, even if it's found in the middle of Manhattan. i am alone, and there is peace and independence in that. sometimes i want to share the joy i find in those times with others, but i'm afraid it would be lost on them, as the fun of something like a football game is wasted on me. so that may be my answer...my beloved solitude

because i stand on the periphery means i love no less than another. i just do so quietly, and in my own way. still my heart is heavy, and my soul is weak with sorrow. i cannot verbally depict the sentiments that overwhelm my heart. waves of sorrow wash over me, yet all i can visualize is Michelle's beautiful smile that could light up the world. i can see her dancing and hear her laughing. i can remember her soft and pensive advice when we discussed our lives. i can see the joy in her eyes and hear the delight in her voice over nothing more than a normal Monday afternoon lunch. This girl lived life. She showed us all how to do it the right way. She enjoyed every moment and lived in the here and now. She adored every single one of us, each in our own way. she loved us so well, the weak, the faint of heart, the weary, the down-trodden. Michelle was like no other. Truly she loved as Christ loved. God bless you Michelle, and thank you. I am touched by your life every day, and always I will carry you with me. You have left the most lovely legacy. You have loved well.

home...not necessarily a geography exactly. not quite a specific person. no i think it's that overwhelming sense of peace, the sort where at last, your soul is at rest. when i feel a wash of quiet bliss, a transcendent peace, and a wide-eyed wonder...i know i am home. for me, that is largely a specific geography...my mountains in north carolina. there i can sit and simply be in awe of splendor and beauty surrounding me. i can turn off all the whirlwind thoughts. i can simply be. it is there, nestled in those grand and rocky crags that i know all is well and right with the world, even if but for just a moment. it is there that i can be free from all encumbrances of the everyday. life is not weighty or complicated there sitting by a blazing fire looking out over the rolling hills speckled with trees. there all my worries are washed away by the sound of the waterfall tumbling down the smooth, time worn rocks and boulders. there i have found my home.

Lately I've been considering the idea of being "right". Not that I'm against being right, regardless of a given situation, in fact, I yearn to be right, and often find that I am precisely that...right. But at what cost? What is it worth to be right? The more I think about it, the less I think being right is really all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I've become a bit of a pacifist over the years. Or perhaps I simply no longer see the value in fighting an uphill battle. I'm not entirely certain to be honest, but I have come to a firm understanding that being right most often comes at a cost. Now maybe it costs me personally very little. But what does it cost the other person? Or actually, what might being right cost me on a personal level? Recently I've seen how being right in an argument or dispute costs people greatly. They lose sight of their character and integrity quite expediently. Suddenly all notions of a moral compass are gone as quickly as dandelion seeds blow in the wind. And with that...all is lost. Being right immediately loses all value. Yes, certainly, in a very superficial, fleeting way perhaps being right has some merit...some worth, but in the long run, when character and integrity are lost, the value of being right is less than nothing. I have closely watched the actions of those in authority over me in the passing weeks and months and have been met with little more than extreme disappointment and frustration. While I'm well aware that at times people get angry and frustrated and often it is difficult to refrain from allowing emotions to take over, I have, much to my dismay, been witness to complete disregard for others, total disrespect, immaturity, and an utter loss of character and integrity. Sadly I must admit people on my own team have acted in these ways, and truly it is nothing short of humiliating. I am horrified at the way my coworkers have treated others with such utter disregard for given trades and with a complete lack of understanding for the work that must be complete. To my horror, people have been cursed out and bad mouthed, and when the recipients of such behavior have apologized for the part they played in the act, they were met with nothing more than a callous "OK"...not even an "I'm sorry too." But this is the way of the world in which we live. As sad as it may be, this is the rule, not the exception. But I then think back to St. Francis of Assisi and his wise words to preach the gospel always, and only when necessary to speak words. So I shall continue to go about the business of life and do my best to maintain a calm spirit and to react with kindness, compassion, respect, and understanding. I'll choose this because if being right costs me my integrity, then I'd rather be wrong.