“Who are you?” bellowed the stony being. “You don’t belong here.”
Maurice tried to answer but his throat was parched and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.
“Speak!” roared the giant.
He perceived the giant could not see him and had only a vague idea of his location. The giant walked closer and closer until his shadow fell on Maurice. His blood ran chill as a deathly coldness overtook him.
“Maurice! MAURICE! Wake up!”
He opened his eyes to find the dawn sky, a cold fire, and his next door neighbor wearing red pajamas staring at him and holding a pitchfork. His watch read 6:06:06 A.M.
23 February 2011
20 February 2011
Page 2
One day after work Maurice decided to camp out in his backyard. He wanted to ‘get back to nature’ and get used to the outdoor life in case the Trappist life didn’t work out and had to resort to the trappist life in Fairbanks. As night approached, Maurice found himself sitting on the ground stirring the embers of the campfire. He grew sleepy and presently nodded off.
The fire burned low. The dancing flames grew tired and now the embers spent their time flickering messages to one another in varying shades of red. Snap! Pop! A blackened stick broke into three pieces. One landed on a cooler ember and encouraged it to join the conversation. Another ember grew overly animated as it lectured the others. Briefly, he flared up and for a time all drew their attention the the fiery preacher.
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust! From cinder to tree to tinder to crust!”
Then, in fulfillment of his prophesy, the flames leaped and the spirit departed.
Sometime later the moon crept from behind the clouds and nudged Maurice awake. The moon returned to her grey cloudy veils and massaged his mind with the deepest suggestion. How long had the moon lived? Did she see the first man? Did she know the secrets of the longaeva? His spirit grew warmer as dawn approached. The moonbeams rekindled the fire which then transferred its heat to his body. Off in the distance, an owl leaped to wing and descended upon a vole. A family of foxes trooped by just out of sight, paused for a look at the strange two-footed creature, then ambled off on their own business. The moon briefly revealed herself and sent a shaft of reflected light on Maurice. A shiver passed through him as again he nodded. He plunged into a dream.
It was not night; it was not day. It was simply a time that was. There were no stars, moon, or sun, merely a gloomy greyness. He stood on a large wooden platform at sea. Others were present, yet appeared as wraiths or shadows and called out as if in one voice. Not in words…but as beasts in agony…one long continuous groan. The platform rocked slowly and creaked like an old man in his death throes. Water lapped the edges and left frozen images of formless beings in its return to the water chaos. A loud voice bellowed from the midst of the wooden island. It rang of self-assurance, yet echoed a hollow wooden sound as one who remembered authority but had it stripped away in some forgotten past. A great being appeared in the likeness of a man. He looked like an unfinished statue. Stern and without pity, he walked towards Maurice and systematically beat the plankings. The being had no name, but destruction was his intent.
The fire burned low. The dancing flames grew tired and now the embers spent their time flickering messages to one another in varying shades of red. Snap! Pop! A blackened stick broke into three pieces. One landed on a cooler ember and encouraged it to join the conversation. Another ember grew overly animated as it lectured the others. Briefly, he flared up and for a time all drew their attention the the fiery preacher.
“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust! From cinder to tree to tinder to crust!”
Then, in fulfillment of his prophesy, the flames leaped and the spirit departed.
Sometime later the moon crept from behind the clouds and nudged Maurice awake. The moon returned to her grey cloudy veils and massaged his mind with the deepest suggestion. How long had the moon lived? Did she see the first man? Did she know the secrets of the longaeva? His spirit grew warmer as dawn approached. The moonbeams rekindled the fire which then transferred its heat to his body. Off in the distance, an owl leaped to wing and descended upon a vole. A family of foxes trooped by just out of sight, paused for a look at the strange two-footed creature, then ambled off on their own business. The moon briefly revealed herself and sent a shaft of reflected light on Maurice. A shiver passed through him as again he nodded. He plunged into a dream.
It was not night; it was not day. It was simply a time that was. There were no stars, moon, or sun, merely a gloomy greyness. He stood on a large wooden platform at sea. Others were present, yet appeared as wraiths or shadows and called out as if in one voice. Not in words…but as beasts in agony…one long continuous groan. The platform rocked slowly and creaked like an old man in his death throes. Water lapped the edges and left frozen images of formless beings in its return to the water chaos. A loud voice bellowed from the midst of the wooden island. It rang of self-assurance, yet echoed a hollow wooden sound as one who remembered authority but had it stripped away in some forgotten past. A great being appeared in the likeness of a man. He looked like an unfinished statue. Stern and without pity, he walked towards Maurice and systematically beat the plankings. The being had no name, but destruction was his intent.
16 February 2011
The Story Begins
Before we get started, let me say I have no idea where this story will go. It doesn't have a plot, nor does it have a main character. Actually it does have a main character...a Maine character. We'll call him Maurice. Maurice is seriously considering joining a Trappist monastery in Tennessee. And why not?
Maurice is not married. Once, a cashier asked him if he was single and he replied,
"no ma'am. I'm actually plural. I used to be single a very long time ago, but then I discovered Id and Ego. They're my invisible friends in a...um...very very complicated way."
The cashier miscalculated his change and so he donated the proceeds to Charity. A pretty homeless lass who made basket cases for a living.
Maurice hasn't had a girlfriend in 13 years...thirteen long and very unlucky years. The very thought of holding a girl's hand brings tears to his eyes. This used to bother him when it occurred in public, but some time ago he aquired a taste for Vidalia onions and garlic bread. Now when he weeps spontaneously in public, he blames it on the food.
This story is a happy one-really. Only Maurice doesn't know it yet.
Maurice hails from the little town of Bethel, Maine. Bethel is located halfway between Gilead (not that Gilead) and Paris (not that Paris.) I've never been to Gilead, or Paris, or even Maine (yes-that one) for that matter so you can just imagine what the places look like. Bethel, I'm sure, has a lot of churches and gets cold in the winter. Maurice doesn't live there anymore. He moved to Goshen. The Goshen in Virginia with warmer winters and less churches.
Thirteen years is quite a long time to live a monastic life without a monastery while still maintaining an air of normalcy in public. In private, it's easy as long as one keeps busy and maintains a prayer life. It's only natural Maurice wants to be a monk. It's peaceful and quiet. There's the free rent. And one gets to wear the same brown uniform-like the fellows in prison or the United States Forest Service.
Maurice believes with his whole heart that this is his life's calling. Now Maurice may or may not join the Brotherhood of Trappists. He may move to Alaska and work as a trappist-collecting beaver pelts and selling the fur to support his onion and garlic habits. Somehow, I think his life is about to change.
Maurice is not married. Once, a cashier asked him if he was single and he replied,
"no ma'am. I'm actually plural. I used to be single a very long time ago, but then I discovered Id and Ego. They're my invisible friends in a...um...very very complicated way."
The cashier miscalculated his change and so he donated the proceeds to Charity. A pretty homeless lass who made basket cases for a living.
Maurice hasn't had a girlfriend in 13 years...thirteen long and very unlucky years. The very thought of holding a girl's hand brings tears to his eyes. This used to bother him when it occurred in public, but some time ago he aquired a taste for Vidalia onions and garlic bread. Now when he weeps spontaneously in public, he blames it on the food.
This story is a happy one-really. Only Maurice doesn't know it yet.
Maurice hails from the little town of Bethel, Maine. Bethel is located halfway between Gilead (not that Gilead) and Paris (not that Paris.) I've never been to Gilead, or Paris, or even Maine (yes-that one) for that matter so you can just imagine what the places look like. Bethel, I'm sure, has a lot of churches and gets cold in the winter. Maurice doesn't live there anymore. He moved to Goshen. The Goshen in Virginia with warmer winters and less churches.
Thirteen years is quite a long time to live a monastic life without a monastery while still maintaining an air of normalcy in public. In private, it's easy as long as one keeps busy and maintains a prayer life. It's only natural Maurice wants to be a monk. It's peaceful and quiet. There's the free rent. And one gets to wear the same brown uniform-like the fellows in prison or the United States Forest Service.
Maurice believes with his whole heart that this is his life's calling. Now Maurice may or may not join the Brotherhood of Trappists. He may move to Alaska and work as a trappist-collecting beaver pelts and selling the fur to support his onion and garlic habits. Somehow, I think his life is about to change.
13 February 2011
Silence is Golden
"Those who love their own noise are impatient of everything else. They constantly defile the silence of the forests and the mountains and the sea. They bore through silent nature in every direction with their machines, for fear that the calm world might accuse them of their own emptiness. The urgency of their swift movement seems to ignore the tranquillity of nature by pretending to have a purpose. The loud plane seems for a moment to deny the reality of the clouds and of the sky, by its direction, its noise, and its pretended strength. The silence of the sky remains when the plane has gone. The tranquility of the clouds will remain when the plane has fallen apart. It is the silence of the world that is real. Our noise, our business, our purposes, and all our fatuous statements about our purposes, our business, and our noise: these are the illusion. God is present, and His thought is alive and awake in the fullness and depth and breadth of all the silences of the world. The Lord is watching in the almond trees [Jer 1.11, 12]. . . Whether the plane pass by tonight or tomorrow . . . whether the liner enters the harbor full of tourists or full of soldiers, the almond tree brings forth her fruit in silence.
"There are some men for whom a tree has no reality until they think of cutting it down . . . men who never look at anything until they decide to abuse it and who never even notice what they do not want to destroy. These men can hardly know the silence of love: for their love is the absorption of another person's silence into their own noise. And because they do not know the silence of love, they cannot know the silence of God . . . Who is bound, by His own law of Charity, to give life to all those whom He draws into His own silence."
--Thomas Merton in No Man is an Island
"There are some men for whom a tree has no reality until they think of cutting it down . . . men who never look at anything until they decide to abuse it and who never even notice what they do not want to destroy. These men can hardly know the silence of love: for their love is the absorption of another person's silence into their own noise. And because they do not know the silence of love, they cannot know the silence of God . . . Who is bound, by His own law of Charity, to give life to all those whom He draws into His own silence."
--Thomas Merton in No Man is an Island
12 January 2011
Short Story
"For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn"
--Attributed to Ernest Hemingway on a bet saying that he couldn't write a story in under seven words.
--Attributed to Ernest Hemingway on a bet saying that he couldn't write a story in under seven words.
01 January 2011
The Heart of God
The heart of God, what He desires most, is intimacy with Him. That's why we are here.
-God made us to know Him.
-God made each of us different so we would know different aspects of His being.
-God made man an incredibly complex creation, in the likeness of Himself, because He is incredibly complex.
The very worse thing we can do is shun God when He draws near to us. This, more than anything, pains Him and explains the unearthly coldness one feels when one rejects Him. Fortunately, God desires us so much He forgives our cold shoulders and gives us grace. This is why relationships that go awry hurt more than anything else...since we are made in God's image and have an innate desire for intimacy that supersedes all other desires.
Because man is so complex, this does not mean any man should marry any woman. Nor does this mean any Christian man should marry any Christian woman. I suspect God designs us so that there are really only a very few truly compatible people for living their lives together.
If one looks to the animal kingdom, one can see this more clearly. Mountain lions and lynxes, though they live in the same places, eat the same animals, chase the same sheep, and love to sleep 20+ hours a day are simply not made to be together. Granted, mankind is the same species, but this does not mean two Christians are made to be together. God may have different plans for both, though they walk along the same path for some time.
This can be quite difficult for the soul...the emotions...to grasp, and hard as it may be, one must listen to the voice of the Spirit. The Holy Spirit will place secret hints and inclinations which, when followed, will keep us from making a wrong decision we would regret during our latter years.
-God made us to know Him.
-God made each of us different so we would know different aspects of His being.
-God made man an incredibly complex creation, in the likeness of Himself, because He is incredibly complex.
The very worse thing we can do is shun God when He draws near to us. This, more than anything, pains Him and explains the unearthly coldness one feels when one rejects Him. Fortunately, God desires us so much He forgives our cold shoulders and gives us grace. This is why relationships that go awry hurt more than anything else...since we are made in God's image and have an innate desire for intimacy that supersedes all other desires.
Because man is so complex, this does not mean any man should marry any woman. Nor does this mean any Christian man should marry any Christian woman. I suspect God designs us so that there are really only a very few truly compatible people for living their lives together.
If one looks to the animal kingdom, one can see this more clearly. Mountain lions and lynxes, though they live in the same places, eat the same animals, chase the same sheep, and love to sleep 20+ hours a day are simply not made to be together. Granted, mankind is the same species, but this does not mean two Christians are made to be together. God may have different plans for both, though they walk along the same path for some time.
This can be quite difficult for the soul...the emotions...to grasp, and hard as it may be, one must listen to the voice of the Spirit. The Holy Spirit will place secret hints and inclinations which, when followed, will keep us from making a wrong decision we would regret during our latter years.
29 December 2010
Spelunkering through Life
It is hard to fall in love when you live in a cave. You get used to the silence and safety of the rocky walls and develop a false sense of security. The path of life requires at least some intimacy, which if absent, makes the hard parts of the journey almost unbearably painful. It is during these difficult stages the emotions go numb and we become less human to others. Traveling with another helps when the spirit is weak as the two can help each other. When one travels alone, sometimes the flame of the spirit flickers due to the wind and the weather. With two, one can shield the other and keep both flames lit.
14 December 2010
19 November 2010
11 November 2010
Image
"Every man becomes the image of the God he adores. He whose worship is directed to a dead thing becomes a dead thing.
He who loves corruption rots.
He who loves a shadow becomes, himself, a shadow.
he who loves things that must perish lives in dread of their perishing."
--Thomas Merton in 'No Man is an Island'
He who loves corruption rots.
He who loves a shadow becomes, himself, a shadow.
he who loves things that must perish lives in dread of their perishing."
--Thomas Merton in 'No Man is an Island'
It's the Truth
"Man's intelligence, however we may misuse it, is far too keen and too sure to rest for long in error. It may embrace a lie and cling to it stubbornly, believing it to be true: but it cannot find true rest in falsehood. The mind that is in error wears itself out with anxiety, lest its error be discovered for what it is. But the man who loves truth can already find rest in the acknowledgement of his mistakes, for that is the beginning of truth."
--Thomas Merton in 'No Man is an Island'
--Thomas Merton in 'No Man is an Island'
27 October 2010
26 October 2010
25 October 2010
Sticky Stuff
Of all the substances discovered by man to be eaten and spat out, I must say my favorite is chicle with Polyisobutylene a close second.
24 October 2010
Atoms
Disregarding what is intuitively obvious means the mind must continually repress the natural order of Life. Over time, this repressing causes the mind to think (against one's better judgement) thoughts that are inconsistent with Reality. So that the end result can be only madness.
When a large enough population in a society represses the intuitively obvious, the logical thing that must happen is a shift in mores and a decline in creativity. The society becomes volatile to the extent that chaos becomes the norm and mediocrity a virtue.
Given a large enough number of people, one can predict what will happen in a manner somewhat analogous to the chemical and physical laws that govern gas particles in a system. And a wise and competent leader will foresee all this and make plans accordingly.
It's true that all people have Free-Will, can make cause-and-effect decisions, as do separate atoms in a closed system. Yet as any chemist or physicist will tell you, atoms by themselves don't do much to their society alone. It takes billions of them to make an impact.
When a large enough population in a society represses the intuitively obvious, the logical thing that must happen is a shift in mores and a decline in creativity. The society becomes volatile to the extent that chaos becomes the norm and mediocrity a virtue.
Given a large enough number of people, one can predict what will happen in a manner somewhat analogous to the chemical and physical laws that govern gas particles in a system. And a wise and competent leader will foresee all this and make plans accordingly.
It's true that all people have Free-Will, can make cause-and-effect decisions, as do separate atoms in a closed system. Yet as any chemist or physicist will tell you, atoms by themselves don't do much to their society alone. It takes billions of them to make an impact.
12 October 2010
Bolivian Gas
I was not planning to blog tonight, but after drinking the equivalent of 4 cups of coffee with the consistency of Bolivian diesel fuel...and I'm not certain it was not Bolivian diesel fuel (who can tell with all the sugarcane)...I changed my mind.
Coffee is not something I drink much of nowadays. I found myself addicted to it and switched to tea. And anyone who appreciates tea knows the impossibility of getting addicted to tea. Even good tea.
In retrospect, it wasn't so much the taste of coffee I craved-it was the kick. One day after a few too many cups, I went a little crazy and searched E-Bay with the honest-to-goodness intention of importing a colony of jackalopes from Borneo. I thought their presence would make a more than interesting addition to the chemistry lab I work at. Then Reason, that lovely goddess who should really rear her head more often than she does in chemistry labs in this great country of ours, actually did rear her head and tell me to stop the online shopping thing and get back to work.
OK Jason. You've written enough for one night. Let's hope nobody with a good psychologist and telephone number offers you 'Life' advice.
Coffee is not something I drink much of nowadays. I found myself addicted to it and switched to tea. And anyone who appreciates tea knows the impossibility of getting addicted to tea. Even good tea.
In retrospect, it wasn't so much the taste of coffee I craved-it was the kick. One day after a few too many cups, I went a little crazy and searched E-Bay with the honest-to-goodness intention of importing a colony of jackalopes from Borneo. I thought their presence would make a more than interesting addition to the chemistry lab I work at. Then Reason, that lovely goddess who should really rear her head more often than she does in chemistry labs in this great country of ours, actually did rear her head and tell me to stop the online shopping thing and get back to work.
OK Jason. You've written enough for one night. Let's hope nobody with a good psychologist and telephone number offers you 'Life' advice.
29 September 2010
15 September 2010
Randomness in September
Most decisions made by men nowadays are based strictly upon emotional states. Logic and foresight are secondary factors in their day-to-day plans. If you don't believe me go to Kentucky or Southern West Virginia and see for yourself the results of decades upon decades of emotion based choices.
A dream I had: As I went walking through the woods I heard a voice calling, "Whoo?...Whooo?"
I thought it must be the Voice of Wisdom calling me in the form of an angel. Then I saw the feathers, beak, and small rodent in the beak flying overhead and at once my heart lightened with good cheer. I composed a proverb on the spot, "Woe to those who call black white, white black, and gray grey. For they are colorblind and destined to become British. Radical alterations of Reality without foresight lead to simpletonism and the end thereof is a Life of Misery in a cold wretched trailer in Southern Appalachia where there will be weeping and gnashing of gums. Confusion shall be in your right hand and ignorance of proper hygiene in your left. Ye shall be friend to the dogs and have far too many non-regulated chemicals in your bloodstream."
Sometime later I woke from the trance and swore off canned mushrooms from Big Lots with expiration dates from 1984.
A dream I had: As I went walking through the woods I heard a voice calling, "Whoo?...Whooo?"
I thought it must be the Voice of Wisdom calling me in the form of an angel. Then I saw the feathers, beak, and small rodent in the beak flying overhead and at once my heart lightened with good cheer. I composed a proverb on the spot, "Woe to those who call black white, white black, and gray grey. For they are colorblind and destined to become British. Radical alterations of Reality without foresight lead to simpletonism and the end thereof is a Life of Misery in a cold wretched trailer in Southern Appalachia where there will be weeping and gnashing of gums. Confusion shall be in your right hand and ignorance of proper hygiene in your left. Ye shall be friend to the dogs and have far too many non-regulated chemicals in your bloodstream."
Sometime later I woke from the trance and swore off canned mushrooms from Big Lots with expiration dates from 1984.
27 August 2010
Shafted by the elevator
Dropping one's hotel key down the space between the elevator and the hallway...into the nether regions of the building...to be lost forever...except possibly by a guy who vaguely resembles Cornelius from Planet of the Apes..and appears on World's Dirtiest Jobs w/Mike Rowe...is NOT the best way to start the day.
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