Chaos Theory

I saw a photo on a friends blog yesterday. It was on his interesting (recommended) blog. Jest a cell-phone snapshot. Folks walking at night in the bright-lights of NYC. The photo was entitled 'CHAOS'. This inspired thinking on this concept...chaos.

Its a good name - context is everything for sure. As an aside, in terms of inspiration, it make me think. Actual chaos is hard to represent - it seems to only reside in the abstract condition of the human heart. Everything else has an order because everything is created or made - even the intention to create is order - intention presupposes order. But these people in the photo create a tention against order...In their hearts..."maybe I can suddenly walk in the street instead"..."or put out one of those lights with a rock"..."what if she was my girlfriend instead?"...."I could use a beer"..ok, that thought was mine ;-)

Once, some time back, I remember sitting on a pier and studying Luke. Luke was a black lab and our station mascott. He was gifted at swimming and catching tennis balls in his mouth as fast as you could throw them. He was also adept at sleeping and eating. That was Luke.

Our unit was semi-famous for collecting, when we could, jumpers off the Golden Gate bridge - one a week average. Some experts came down once to visit us with their own statistics. The Suicide Prevention agency for the city. They said that interviews with all (all) failed suicide victims report that in that last split-second...a reason to live suddenly came to them. Most were relieved that it had. Their problem? They required a reason to live.

What would Luke say if he knew that? How perplexed he would be. He might look around to try and help these creatures who were so out of order. He would see some with desparate looks on their face....climbing a corporate ladder....home-schooling their kids 10 hours a day....drinking too much....adopting 15 handicapped children....organizing a PETA rally....blogging their brains out....some busy....some catatonic. Luke was a bright old lab. I bet he would eventually understand. He would look up to the top of that bridge and see an honest but tired person standing there groping for a reason not to jump. Then look under the bridge and see another honest person asleep there...clutching his empty bottle.

A Study of the Village....Christian

Happiness. What is it?

Blessed ('happy' is accurate Hebrew meaning) is the man who puts his trust in the Lord.

Happy....happy. Is contentment the same as happy? Content is the man who puts his trust in the Lord..... despite the job, people, relationship problems? Money problems. Overwhelming evil in the world. Content is the man...man can only only be happy and content when he puts his trust in the Lord?

For tomorrow...what if tomorrow is crappy? Would he let it suck if I put my trust in him? yeah...he could. In all things pray...pray a desperate, I ain't content - prayer.

I have learned to be content, the Apostle Paul says...but...Paul was never content outside the context of that scripture...about money. Can a man reflect Gods heart in this world and be content? No.

So then, happy is not equal to content. Happy is to content as Grace is to an 'act' of mercy. Happy...is a daily dose of life-sustaining trust while sitting in a bowl of cow-patties. Being content in a bowl of cow-patties is....weird.

Random Matters...

Funk. Everything you know and everything you want to know more about - don't matter. You know the number of your blessings - they are in your face. That doesn't matter. You are inconsolable, discontent. Any fix is an offense. Any offense is too small to impact you. What is a life-ring to someone for whom a lifering - dosen't matter?

I jumped 40 feet (I was told) from a helicopter one night into some pretty cold waves. Literally too stupid to fear.

I twice grieved a loss so extreme - and recoverd.

I was puzzeled once fishing a pair of black cordarory pants out of the San Fransico Bay. They still had legs in them. How do you...feel....about something like that? The wallet said he was Vietamese and a mental patient.

I use to fly planes and get lost. Landing in strange places...regularly.

I was alone hiking Old Woman mountain in Kodiak Alaska. I toted a six-pack, stick, and hockey-skates. At the top was a lone frozen pond. I tied my skates on, opened a can and threw a puck out. I skated about aimlessly pushing the puck about, drinking, thinking (I guess). Content.

I walked across a campus very early one morning thinking how perfect my paper on Carter Foreign Policy was. The more I walked I found areas that were questionable. Still walking I then wondered about the nature of truth. How maybe all these truths might imply an ultimate truth....then there came a sudden swooping sound of wind by my head - and a 'thud' sound. I stopped and looked down to see a dead white dove. I looked back and the hawk that flew by my head landed on a tree. He stared at me standing there with his food at my feet. I was puzzled...but somehow, it mattered.

There is no Great Commission

There is no Great Commission


What kind of heresy is this? Of course there is a Great Commission. It was given to us by our Lord. He commissioned his 11 disciples to “go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

I would like to take another look at this text on several levels. First I will address the statement itself. Simply put, the words great commission are not to be found anywhere in the Bible. Now that does not invalidate the theological proposition the statement represents. There are many Theological terms that are not in the Bible but represent the best interpretation of a concept put forward in a given text of scripture.

But I will submit that this term, this label, used to interpret the scripture is not at all the best. In fact, in our culture, it is the most dangerous. Then I would like to look at a more proper interpretation of this text and see just how powerful the more true meaning is to our Christian lives.

Mat 28:16 Then the eleven disciples left for Galilee, going to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go.
Mat 28:17 When they saw him, they worshiped him-but some of them still doubted!
Mat 28:18 Jesus came and told his disciples, "I have been given complete authority in heaven and on earth.
Mat 28:19 Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Mat 28:20 Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

The context here is very important. We see the disciples are beset with incredible doubt, unbelief. And this even though they are in His very presence. So this is the situation Jesus is in, the context. We know this is no new problem to Jesus as this was a constant battle he had throughout his ministry. And He was ready with the same remedy He offered so many times before. He instructed the disciples to exercise the faith that was yet in them. He encouraged them to action that they would see Him work and increase their faith.

Within this text we do not see Jesus put down an arbitrary edict, a commandment. He simply makes an affirmative statement akin to “I Am.” Then He gives them what should be their natural expression of this reality that will be to them supernatural activity like they could not even imagine. This power is ours. Ours to exercise and draw such results as would blow away any doubt and unbelief they held. We know from scripture that they did and the wonders worked through their faith built their faith incredibly, unto death.

We have a corporate culture today. So many identify with being workers and members of corporations. One negative result of a corporation is that sometimes poor policies or dishonest actions occur. But the corporation can weather these storms easily in that no one individual is ever to blame. Instead it is a ‘corporate’ mistake. This faceless entity is to blame and well, you can’t take an non-existent entity to task. Its not a moral problem to pinned on any person.

The church in America has without question fallen into a corporate state. A state of reason where what can be done for the Kingdom is limited only by available funds. There is today a culture of a Christian Corporation. In this corporate culture every person is important to increase the Kingdom through participating through giving and serving. Each Christian Corporation has an officiating board, management structure, and a few folks in the field. There silent majority is encouraged to maintain the corporate machine through giving and service. The corporation will choose many programs the members can tap into for service. Local or short term mission opportunities are designed and offered by the upper management groups. This is so the members can know and be directed to give (and possibly serve) where God is at work.

Every corporation has a mission statement to rally their workers around. Ours is the Great Commission. While this is all out there they must busy the workers with personal holiness.

Jhn 10:10 The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have [it] more abundantly.

This takes to another amazing aspect tied to this event. Jesus said that one reason He came in the first place was to give us abundant life. How do we imagine He meant that? What did abundant mean?

The Christian Corporation has mirrored the world in defining for its members what abundant life is. It is only limited by our desire to sin. The abundant life is much like what the world understands as the good life. Happy marriage, right-thinking children, no debt and no sin. Its all very simple and there is so much scripture to support these endeavors.

But I ask now, is this what the disciples came to experience as abundant life? We know they did not. Their lives were abundant because they were encouraged to exercise their faith in order that they could experience their faith. And if asked, they would tell you it cost them dearly and cost them nothing. That God took their mustard seeds of faith and showed them how mountains could be moved. He showed them how abundant life was intimately tied to removing the bushel from their light. And abundant life was to experience God in their actions of going and telling and sewing and reaping and healing and prophesizing. They learned just how supernatural the gift of a Christian life is. They learned how incredibly personal and individual it was. In their unspeakable joy they knew without a doubt that had they never left that upper room it would have been ok. God never needed them. He just loved them beyond understanding and wanted to give them good gifts. They found that all of everything in the universe, in all of history, all that is promised was for them. That it is all about them, each individual one of them. Jesus was and is ‘I Am.’

What is possible for the Ambassadors of the One who has been given complete authority in heaven and on earth? I know 11 guys who would tell you. I believe they would affirm they were not cogs in a corporate wheel motivated by some silly slogan. They were natural men supernaturally aware of their supernatural condition. They were motivated by the continual work of Love being wrought in each of them individually and personally. And increased in faith with every supernatural result of the love working out of them. I’ll even bet they could come close to agreeing with God they too ‘so loved the world.’ Can you say that? No, me either. But do we know that such a joy and faith is possible? It is.

I have a son. He is five years old. You know, I don’t look for his admiration. I like it, sure. But I am okay without it. I was okay before he existed. But I must tell you, I hate a day that might go by when I don’t get to see him grow and live in the sureness that he is loved by me.

Here is an example of how this might play out if you agree with the tinking on this matter:


The Emperors New Clothes:

"But there is no Great Commission. It's just not in the text and feels hollow and empty. I Think He means something more personal than that - something more relational....more powerful. Like Love. In fact, I think everything He has made - the universe, creation, His giving of Himself....is about us and for us. This world and all that is in it is for us to love. None of it is about Him...He just simply is. He is self-sufficient."

Then Mark was removed from Seminary, they implanted Johnny Hunt sermons into his MP3 player and gave him many church-planting books to read. He memorized the various strategies and agreed that church-planting is the way. People get behind it. He agreed with 'bang for buck' rule of law. He even began to put his trust in the tithe. He was restored to the fold...and very very happy. You can tell even today by the grin that never leaves his face.....no matter what.

Likewise, as Orwell's novel concludes, Winston and Julia are taken to the Ministry of Love as part of the reprogramming process. Since Winston fears rats, he is tortured with rats until his feelings for Julia are destroyed. As confirmation that he sees the new reality of the state, Winston writes that 2+2=5. The reprogramming is successful. He is cured. As the final sentence of Orwell's book concludes, "He loved Big Brother."

He loved the law. ;-(

Who Loves You, Baby!

Listening to R.E.M Green. I can't believe this is about 20 years old. I didn't even know how good it was when I first thought it was the 'best'...and Depech Mode. I think my Ray-Bans had paint splashes on them...purposely manufactured that way. What was that??

Anyhow, tonight, the day after writing my first poem in...a long time (about confusion and love and God and 'the problem of evil'...and an incredible kid). Thinking on something concerning faith that has recently put me at odds with my evangelical community...(I think that is my faith community)

Rick Warren is fond of his SO accepted view that he finally learned "It's all about God." That resinates with Christians somehow in a big way... record best-seller kind of ways. That's all fine but I was wondering who told him that? If there is a reader out there, will you attempt to walk through to this conclusion with me? Maybe we can start out there on the event horizon, so-to-speak, and work our way to the epicenter of this astounding revelation.

At some point, folks agree it was a...point, time and space came into existence. Then light found its way here with matter. Stars and physical laws that are nearly unshakable. Then this one planet where there is water, air, heat, plants. And people. Lets stop here for just a moment and ask a question or two - Did God need these things? Who needs these things?

Moving on - this for the faith folks - there is revealed and repeated for well over 2000 years that God intended to take and punish his own son. Then he did. Then people talked about it for another 2000 years. Another rest-stop for these questions - Did God need these things? Who needs these things?

What if...maybe...."Its all about me." Maybe God is trying to get that message through to us. Could he be just too subtle with the creation and sacrifice angle? Lets help him out...get some bumper stickers made. Here's one... "Who loves you, baby!"

Poem - expect one every decade...or so

Answer Me

I don’t know where you are
Only that you say
You are
And a beer

She was swinging there
You saw her
Her eyes never leaving me
The new smile hoping

Is that power nothing
But for a moment
Move
Or kill me

You saw her there
You know you did
A new smile
And for what?

Nothing New...So...Out of Context Excerpts Ripped from My Stupid Novel (remember as fun to write) - E2 - 'CORT...the straw that broke the camel's...'

Jules hadn’t spoken to Cort since the night of the play. He really felt he was within his rights to leave that night. The little man, he thought, didn’t seem as bothered by it as she made out. She was being dramatic as usual, Cort thought. And she had to know she went too far with that play since he heard the whole place emptied before it was over. Cort was getting tired. Tired of constantly justifying his actions to almost everyone. No, he thought, as of late it was everyone. His boss, the board, the new mayor, the developer, and his wife. Even Ted was getting to him and he never took him seriously. Last time they talked Cort had to justify his very existence. Ted was getting himself born-again, again, or something. Well, he remembered, he took care of that conversation. He told Ted to justify his girlfriend and then get back to him. And since that morning at Hugo’s, Ted had not accomplished either. Cort thought he might have lost a friend, so to speak. He actually feared he had.
Cort placed his order through the Sonic speaker and turned his engine off. As he waited for his number two burger, with it’s extra onions, he thought his salvation through. He would run the ITC approval through immediately, and Ted would then follow suit. Then papers would be served to Elijah. He gave him fair warning, he didn’t have to. And the golf course deal would just be another cash cow to manage. Then he would change. He would make his yard into the hanging gardens of Babylon. Never miss a game, and show up to every play Jules put on and not care how stupid it was. With the promotion he could take real vacations, out-of-state ones. Maybe they would go all the way to Disney world, definitely to Disney World. He was just pulling out of his spot when his cell phone rang. It was Ted. He never answered those before. Was never sure why Ted kept trying, but he did. For Cort, work had been cold and so was his house. Suddenly it seemed to him a good idea to chat with Ted. To hear a voice, even an annoying one, seemed needful somehow. He pulled his car out of the way and parked next to Sonic’s dumpster. He called Ted back.
“Hey, Ted. What’s up.” Cort faked enthusiasm. He caught himself, chastised himself. He felt he was faking just about every thing he did and said lately. For just a brief moment he found himself wondering if the man on the other end of the line was better than him. Ted’s voice, and all it represented to him, helped him erase that thought.
“You read the paper?” Ted asked almost demanding, yet with fright.
“Sometimes. Why?”
“No. Did you read it this morning?”
“No, Ted, I didn’t read the paper this morning. Are we at war with Midwest City or something?” He was glad he called Ted back. He was starting to feel better. Cort felt the world start to right itself as his sarcasm took hold, took control.
“Okay. Get the Times. Page three. Call me back.” Ted said and hung up.
Cort could not believe that Ted just gave him instructions. That Ted simply hung up on him. Now nothing made sense again. He looked up at the dumpster through his windshield. This was more dramatic than even Jules would come up with. Read the paper. Hang up on me, he thought. Well, he wasn’t going to be in this weird play. He wasn’t going to read the paper. It wasn’t normal and he wanted normal. He called a client in Spindle and asked if they might could meet sooner. She agreed and he drove to met her at a convenience store off Mustang Road. She had a revised business plan to show him and he was going to approve it. Then he was going to process it. And then he was going to go home and do what he could to get Jules to say hello. Say something.
The woman was already there when Cort arrived at the store. She looked very nervous. It seemed to him that she was avoiding eye contact with him. This made Cort feel better. Someone, and because of him, was going to go home happy today. He had already had the loan papers faxed to his car and listed the account as open. But she probably had been up all night preparing for their meeting, he thought, probably nervous that the schedule changed. He would give her time, respectfully, to at least introduce her revised plan. Cort had not even completely sat down when she started in talking.
“Mr. Johnson. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t tell you over the phone. You have been so nice to me.” Again avoiding his look.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know it is all just a mistake. That it will all get cleared up. But the investors, they’re just in a hurry.” She said.
“Really, I’m sorry. I just don’t...is there some sort of problem?”
“Well, they just really pushed for Central Bank. And they came through this morning.”
“Oh. That’s okay. I really thought we had a better rate, but that’s okay. Can I ask what they came in at?”
“Well, not much higher.” she said as she stood to leave. She so obviously wanted to leave.
“Higher? I really don’t understand.” Cort said.
“They just felt, you know. They are just in a big hurry, that’s all. I really need to get over there, to Central. I really am sorry you had to drive over. It’s just hard for me. I’m sorry.” She was determined to leave.
“That’s okay. Really.” Cort replied as she walked out.
Cort sat for nearly thirty minutes without a thought. Eventually, mechanically, he walked over and poured himself a coffee. He stopped by the newspaper rack on his way back to the table. Why not, he thought. He picked up the Times with the feeling he might read his horoscope. Why not, he thought.
He avoided the third page for the longest time. Reading the editorial, he realized that he had no real opinion about anything discussed. Cort didn’t read the paper, ever. He didn’t care about news much. He considered himself pretty much above politics. Finally, he felt like just updating this account, this almost account, and going home. Cort turned to page three and began to read. There was mention of the Willow Springs Industrial Trust Committee. The piece mentioned a Mr. Cort Johnson. Something about their buying land for pennies on the dollar, selling the land back to companies at fair market value. About their being a possible separate LLC in place that held the gains. Then more mention of Cort Johnson. The words County Commissioner and investigation leaped off the page. A word about a proposed war memorial that never seemed to materialize. And again another mention of a board member by the name of Cort Johnson. And none of it was true. It was tastier, more suspicious. The article was better than true.
An hour later Cort was still sitting at the little table crowded by the candy isle and surrounded by stacks cheap beer. He was just staring at his empty Styrofoam cup turning around and around in his hands. The kid behind the counter at the gas station walked over to clean the next table. Cort moved his eyes just then to study him and noticed that it was already clean.
“That table doesn’t need cleaning.” Cort snapped.
“What? Oh. Just staying busy.” The boy replied.
“You staying busy or just a busy-body?”
“What?”
“Nothing. What’s your name?”
“I ain’t no busy-body. It’s just that you don’t answer your phone. It rang like 20 times. You okay?”
Cort turned back to his fascination with the coffee cup. He had never been so at peace in his mind before that day. He couldn’t even think of one thing to worry about or control. He stayed in his bliss for another hour before calling the boy back over.
“You ever wonder what life is all about?” Cort asked.
“No. You want more coffee?”
“Me either. I never wondered, not even once I don’t think. But I know what it is, what it’s all about.” Cort reached into his wallet, pulled out over 300 dollars and gave it to the boy.
“Yeah. I know, it’s about money.” The boy answered uneasily.
“No, son. You keep it. If it’s about money then you got a real problem. I know what life is about without even wondering or asking. Life just decided to tell me today.”
“Really. You ok? I shouldn’t keep this.” He put the money on the table.
“I’m taking off now. And I don’t know if it’s worth two cents to know this now at your age. Or any age, really. Life is about revenge. You know those kids in your school with the nice cars and who don’t work? Their parents became successful to show the world they were really somebody – revenge. And those kids are stealing and drinking and who knows what else to tick their folks off – revenge. When the Kiwanis club guys raise money to get poor kids boots and coats, that’s good, but revenge as well. You starting to see what I mean?”
“I get it.”
“You know, I think you do too.” Cort left the money and cell phone on the table. He kept the coffee cup and walked out without another word. He even completely forgot the boy and their talk; he was wholeheartedly in the moment. He opened the trunk and dropped his laptop bag in before getting into the car. He drove until it got real dark. His mind felt free but he was troubled in parts of himself that he never knew he had. An awful pain came on him but he couldn’t pinpoint where it was. It was hitting him somewhere deep and heavy but somewhere new and unknown. He thought maybe it was his soul. That maybe Jules was right about all that junk and he needed fixing. He remembered the word she used was something like saving. The notion was not so repugnant to him now but also seemed as futile as any idea that existed. He knew life was just about revenge so what was this silly hope she had. Wasn’t it just another crappy burden, another ideal to spend time defending and promoting? But maybe, he thought, just maybe there was some power that caused this hope he knew she had. Maybe even the reason for the joy he had seen her express many times. That weird, other-worldly joy and care for life and people. God, he thought, how she loved people in trouble and in need. He drove back towards the old spot, to the oil well hoping for answers there. He always felt at peace there. Maybe it could ease the pain and the lack of pain he felt. Or didn’t feel. No more, he thought, no more.
The giant loose bolt on the top of the oil well clanged in perfect time to the rise and fall of the pump. The loud rhythm was to Cort like an amplified second hand of a giant clock. A never-ending time piece. He thought how nothing was that way though, nothing really lasted forever. Just some things seemed to go on and on. Cort realized that this was nothing like the movies. He always thought the guy standing high on the sky-scraper ledge was trying to build up the courage to jump. But he knew in that moment they really needed the courage to not jump. He paced around the well searching his memory for a word or an image. Something, anything. Nothing.
The same paper that exacted revenge on him would soon redeem themselves the next morning. It was a follow-up story on page six and this time it was factual. They wrote about Willow Springs and the man Cort Johnson that didn’t go home the previous evening. How he was found on oil company property sitting leaned up against the base of a natural gas well. And how the .45 caliber handgun was licensed to him.

Nothing New...So...Out of Context Excerpts Ripped from My Stupid Novel (remember as fun to write) - E1 - 'MEG'

Meg Pearson was almost magazine pretty, tall with auburn hair and green eyes. At first glance men would respond to her as if seeing something very rare. Like living in Jersey City and walking to the parking lot to find a Bald Eagle perched on the hood of your car. For some men she met along the way this utter enchantment would extend well into their bank accounts before they came to. The last one was not like that. She met him at a hotel bar off Interstate 40. Past the third exit into Memphis. She had just quit her waitress job in Charlotte the week before and was hiding out at her mother's house. She wasn't especially welcome there, not since birth. But as long as she came home very late and left very early, everything was manageable. He didn't even look her way the whole night. He looked nice enough and bought enough to perk her interest. She was in a rare state of semi-reflection that night. She imagined, for just a moment, what it would be like to be sane. To be normal and maybe even be loved. He seemed so nice. His timing was perfect when he asked if he could just sit with her. He didn't offer to buy a drink or even compliment Meg. He just sat, pleasantly and patiently. Then she talked to him. They would go into the restaurant together and get coffee. For Meg in this moment, this was like being swept off to Paris. They closed the restaurant together and walked about the hotel courtyard until they settled in at a round plastic table near the empty pool. It was a clear night full of stars and the sounds of passing cars and crickets mingling together. He was funny and attentive and seemed to her to be educated, though his work didn't require it. In fact, his whole life story wasn't very adventurous or exciting. He seemed so at ease with his life, though. She knew what that looked like because she had never seen or experienced it before. He walked her to her room door and said good night. She peeked back out of her room to watch him leave. The next morning she woke early with something new stirring inside her, something like hope. She showered, dressed quickly and looked for her things. She didn't have anything. Everything was at home but she didn't want to go home. She resolved to leave everything if he would take her with him.
Meg was waiting for him on the hood of his car. She waited past day break until he finally came out of his room. She took in every movement he made, coming out, closing the door behind him, turning to step onto the parking lot, walking towards her. His face looking pleasantly surprised. She had somewhat expected him to look horrified. He didn't. She had nothing to lose and she told her self so, again.
"Hi, Meg." he said as he passed her to put his bags in his trunk.
"Hi."
"You sleep good?" He asked.
"Yeah. No."
"Me either," he said as he moved in close to her, "I was wondering if you would like to go to Little Rock with me. I got a job there."
She leaped off the hood of the car and onto him. Leaving the motel, Meg was sitting in the middle of the front seat and kissing on him about every ten seconds. And he seemed so happy with her. She was on her honeymoon, in her state of mind, and on her way to Little Rock. Her man had a job waiting there. They would arrive in Little Rock late that night. The plan was for her to look for an apartment for them while he was at his job interview. That next day she found three apartments and brought the marketing pamphlets back to the hotel. She was mostly just excited about their choosing one together. That was the last place she saw him, when he was leaving in the morning for a job interview in Little Rock, Arkansas.
Her grief was unbearable, her pride destroyed. Meg decided to get back on the hi-way and just keep going. It wasn't so much a decision as it was that it was simply the nearest route of escaping from herself that she could see. The motel was on I-40 and next to a used car lot. She had enough money to buy a two hundred dollar car and some gas. The previous owner was nice enough to throw in four milk jugs filled with water and a case of oil. He wouldn't need them anymore, he said, but she would. The remaining money ran through her gas tank and ran out thirty miles outside Oklahoma City. Willow Springs.
Ted called Meg the day he knew he was going to run for mayor. She put out as much interest as she could. The whole affair for her had passed from necessary to boring and into painful. Her agreement with this Rusty guy was to just to spend some time, time to time, as he put it. But she had no idea how Ted would be, how needy. Whatever it was for, she knew it was suppose to have ended a full month ago. But the Frank Howard guy kept sending her more money and she kept taking it. She was actually starting to know people now. Half the apartment complex knew her. Many in town knew her from the restaurant and she went to lunch with coworkers more and more. This never happened in Charlotte and it actually made Willow Springs into a more interesting place for her. It was a nice place, she thought. And to leave it suddenly, the way she was left in Little Rock was going to fix everything.

Living In the Now?

Does it bother anyone that everything is.... history? You know, that everything you tangibly experience pre-existed the moment of your experience. Everything is carried forward from somewhere prior.

Every room, every item you see, or touch, or feel...every word you speak was developed before you learned it. Every person you meet. Every show you watch...every TV you watch it on. All was there before you experienced them. Everything experienced pre-dates the moment of the experience. I am typing on a laptop manufactured 4 years ago in history. Typing words from hundreds of years ago.

In this reality how can we truly experience the 'present moment'? Our minds and imagination can transcend into the past or future. But is there any creative power to bring us into the...now? Or is it too loaded with the past to make ...unreachable?

I think maybe this is what is sought in nirvana. What Einstein wanted to say in our limits of speed. Likewise, we are limited to the past...and talk of the present in spite of all empirical evidence to the contrary.

Maybe this is where God comes in...where prayer lives. Where only a supernatural acting from outside our historical entrapment. Breaks through time and space because He created it and can do that. Breaks through and draws us into experiences of the present moment.

I guess we need to live the best we can within our limits with the benefit of experiencing the supernatural moments given to us along the way.

Wait! My five year old son wants to be spiderman...practices for it often. He doesn't acknowledge limits and seems quite happy...more than that, he appears quite certain. I need to sit at his feet awhile I think. :-)

Now what are Christian limits then if they experience moments of 'present time'. I guess I could be the Green lantern...if God wills!

Zen and the Art of War

I found a seat far from the gate. I am always most comfortable when remote and obscure. I tried to study the travelers and guess at their lives, their troubles. The masses mesmerize me. All different colors and shapes and movement. A carousel. God, that nailed it. That was life, I thought, round and round. At first glance, all glitter, variation and noise. But then, when the ride lasts too long for the spectator, they see. They see the perfect unison of step and motion, the conformity. And then the dreaded truth. Round and round, no end. Moving so much the same, looking so much the same. Dull incarnate. Between brief interludes of passing hot flight attendants my mind drifted back to my Coast Guard unit at Kodiak Island, Alaska. The analogy seemed to have no end for me. That was my last station and it rained over 300 days a year there. But never really rained. Sprinkled, misted, annoyed with wetness. Relentless was this abuse, that ever dripping faucet.
I was trying this new cheap airline that handed me a plastic card with a number. One guy caught my eye. He was bald and wearing an orange sheet. Asian looking, a Buddhist. He wasn’t watching anyone. He just stared out into the post in front of him. He was wearing one of those Mona Lisa smiles. Was he smiling or wasn’t he? At first I was intent on catching him at his game, you know, like you hear tourists doing with the guards at Buckingham Palace. No go, he was a pro. Eventually I just started emulating him and drew my focus onto him. I thought I knew the game, empty yourself. I almost had a little chant coming on when another hot flight attendant passed by. She had legs up to there, you know.
They were loading the plane but I learned early that I didn’t have to jump when my number was called. Why stand in line when you already have a seat. This guy was good, real good. He also waited pleasantly while the very important people lined up like preschool kids leaving recess. Finally, it was just the two of us. This was my game now and I was ready. He looked over to me and our eyes locked. Bring it on, I thought, bring it on. He gave in, picked up his little canvas satchel and floated off to the ramp. I was so happy when I got to the gate but for some reason the ticket lady seemed to miss the showdown. I have met few people in my life less impressed with me.
“Um, excuse me,” I asked, “this card doesn’t have my seat number on it.”
“It’s first come, first on.” She replied.
“Yeah.” I said authoritatively like an undercover official. Just checking, got my eyes on you kind of thing. Again with the unusual disinterest from her. She was good.
The ride from O’Hare to Milwaukee was just long enough for me to bare. But no more. The man in the back of the plane next to me had this uncanny power to keep conversation at bay. He didn’t even pick up a book or barf bag to read.
"Sucks back here, huh."
Nothing
"You know, I could ask them to bring you a pillow to go with that orange sheet."
Nothing. A smile...I think.