Words Don't Make Good Bones

Imagining Christ

2010-12-19T15:35:00.000-08:00

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I Am
With you.

Rebounder

2010-11-23T19:57:00.001-08:00

I look at you like a sang song
to the unattainable hymns
sounding above the upraised throats
of the impious trying to be
more than I am a cublice drone
with a see through scalp prowling
for revenge sex too cowardly
to consummate gentleman

Dental Celebrity

2010-11-07T19:28:00.000-08:00

I'm like a celebrity at the dentist. No cavaties, ever? No braces? No smoking? No coffee? AND you brush regularly? {swoon} I was all "my eyes are up here."

I've been fitted for a night guard because I was told I grind my teeth at the last denist appointment. I teased that Night Guard sounded like a edgy superhero who fights crime while the city sleeps and the hygenist just blinked at me. Like everyone who gets a night guard tells that joke. They asked me if I wanted the mold of my teeth but regretted that the front teeth had accidentally been chipped. They offered it to me anyway. "Heckz yeah!" I said! I've made finger holds on the bottom and top teeth so I can use it like a puppet. Now I have someone to talk to!

{Jerkface Mode On}

2010-11-01T20:21:00.000-07:00

Raesh: What are you doing?!
Son: Nothing.
Raesh: {Daddy voice mode on} You're SUPPOSED to be doing spelling or taking a bath!
Son: I was just listening to you play guitar. I couldn't hear you in my room.
Raesh: Go take a bath, son.
Raesh: You know I'd play guitar in your room if you ask.

Value of Merit

2010-10-18T19:24:00.000-07:00

Her immediate thought was he must be a fascist. Tall and rigid, he wore the uniform of some newly formed eastern European country Meritt guessed probably ended in "-icstan." His features held a severity that made people think everything he said was of dire importance. He had the dark features of a Moorish Spaniard. He didn't carry a heavy pack like NATO soldiers, just utilitarian duffel large enough for a change of clothes and a shaving kit. His face was fallow and she thought he must be older than she, but you can never tell because life east of Greece ages peoples' faces.

Meritt amended her first impression of a stern goose-stepper when he helped an old woman board the train. Then her bags. Then her covered birdcage, as gently as if it were his own. The old lady tried to tip him (he was in uniform after all; though Meritt could hardly believe he would be mistaken for a valet) but he gentlemanly refused. They seemed to debate while she stood on the train's entry steps and he looked up at her from the platform. She first offered more, then less. When it was obvious he would offend her if he declined, he accepted some pittance. Once the money changed hands, she moved and permitted him to board. Clever old woman.

The soldier came into Meritt's car. She watched him take off his hat and stow his bag underneath a seat next to a man she had already voted "most likely to sleep with his mouth open." The soldier faced the back of the train. Meritt faced the front. Their eyes met for the first time and she noticed he had long lashes. They both looked quickly away just as the train lumbered into motion.

Most of the trip, she avoided conversation with the woman sitting next to her wearing a dress patterned after a table cloth by looking aloof and making her earbuds obvious. Trains bore Meritt. She prefers to travel by car, where she has control, or by plane, where the wait is mercifully short. She took the night train hoping to sleep most of the trip away. Only after seeing that she wouldn't want to close her eyes for any extended period of time with these "coach passengers" did she regret not making her father buy her a cabin. She passed the time staring at a landscape changing too slowly to be interesting. She brought a teen trash novel about an American Wild West werewolf and his repressed, Victorian love interest. Her sister recommended it, but it was drivel. Sometimes she stole glances at the soldier. Sometimes she caught him looking at her.

When the table cloth woman took the stop at dusk, the soldier moved to sit next to her. Meritt had been right about the open-mouth sleeper and the soldier had been looking very uncomfortable as the man's head bobbed with sleep apnea sounds. "Is this place taken?" He was putting his bag and hat under the seat before Meritt could answer. She tried to look disinterested.

The rode in silence until Meritt had memorized the new Audio Séance album in its entirety. She removed her earbuds and the soldier said, "I like to make up stories about the things that pass by." He was looking out the window as he spoke the words.

"Are you an author?"

He laughed the laugh of a hookah bar, "Your stories have to be interesting to be an author."

"You're a poet, then? Because they don't have to be interesting at all, just weird."

"A very poetic observation."

"Are you saying I'm weird?" She had not intended to flirt with him, but already she was putting him on the defensive and seeking compliments.

"I'm Cahit. What's your name?"

"Meritt."

"I work with men who’ve chased merits all their lives."

Thus began a nightlong conversation. Cahit didn’t hail from Youbrokeastand, but was Turkish. He laughed when Meritt confessed she had been to neither. He looked stern, but smiled easy and attributed both looks and smile to his grandfather. That grandfather still herds sheep in the foothills.

Cahit’s father didn’t dream of sheep and moved to the city. He didn’t have the education to thrive, but learned quickly where to direct young Cahit for success. He still feels the weight of his father’s vicariosity “if that’s a word. There’s a word for it in Turkish. But the idea still translates, yes?”

He enlisted in the military hoping for some sense of adventure. He’s disappointed he spends most of his time checking IDs at checkpoints on base. He resents his commanding officer. He overheard him refer to a soldier’s value as “he can stop a bullet.” When Meritt commented on the very un-NATO pack, Cahit informed her Turkey has been in NATO for 60 years.

He quit college to join the Army – another regret. He was studying to be an architect. He worried he’s not creative enough, but wants to do something lasting in the world.

Cahit read Grimm’s Fairy Tales and all the mystery of the Black Forest made him want to see it for himself. He didn’t find any gingerbread houses or talking wolves, but he did experience a sense of the wild. It was at Baden-Baden, the resort town on the outskirts of the Black Forest, that he boarded the train.

Meritt wasn't aware when she fell asleep. But she woke with Cahit's arm around her shoulder, nestled to his pressed uniform chest. He told her he didn't sleep but watched over her.

Meritt blinked dreamily in the morning light, “were you making up stories for what you saw?”

“All I saw was you,” replied Cahit.

“Then your story must have been exotic and interesting beyond compare,” she teased.

“It ended with me giving you my email address.” He pulled out a precisely folded paper and gave it to her. She mashed it into her pocket with other sundries.

In the light of day, their conversation was much less intimate. They spoke philosophy and music and even briefly delved into God (Cahit was Muslim, but not very devout). Nothing really about them – their nonsense dreams or that one who bruised their heart or what they would allow to corrupt them. Instead it was ideas and pop culture.

But Meritt didn’t move.

And Cahit held her in his half embrace.

At her stop, Meritt smiled pensively. She recognized the moment for what it had become. Her future could be defined by the choices in front of her – romantic and impulsive and practical and silly and lascivious. Each decision spread before her like a web of possibility. As she packed up her things, every movement to disembark put a future to death. Opportunities shriveled into truth.

She stood on the platform with an anxious thudding in her chest. He lives in Ankara for christsake. And Muslim. And in a foreign army. She fished out his email as the train pulled away. Receipts rained to the floor as she clasped the neatly folded paper. She did what she knew what right. Only later did she consider that Cahit might have watched her throw it to the waste.

ohgoshwow

2010-10-11T20:47:00.000-07:00

I've got this amazing kid I don't deserve. Recently, I've seen myself turn sardonic and a bit cutting, but my son compliments so easily. It's natural for him.

Tonight he takes his first bite of salmon and says "ohgoshwowthatsgood." He's seen me cook since he was small. I've got this masterpiece on my fridge titled "Son Helps Dad Cook" where my son is drawn a safe distance from the stove that Daddy is operating. Daddy has caught himself on fire. Flames are everywhere. Last week he suggested I should write a cookbook.

Truth is, I'm not a very good cook. But he's not really complimenting the food. He's talking about us in the environment and me providing for him and laughing and feeling protected and this moment where even the taste of lightly seasoned and overdone salmon is good.

It's humbling when children teach you things.

Undatable

2010-09-15T19:40:00.000-07:00

VH1 had this show on called "Undatable" that clues guys in to what they do that turns women off. Most of it was no-brainer stuff like "don't pick your nose on a date" and "bathe regularly." But they had other things that took my by surprise. Here are my undatables:

I do "fake swearing" all the friggin' time. I own nunchucks (shut up). I sometimes talk about video games, but usually its in the context of kids or art. However, my worst offence would probably be that in my work clothes, I own twice as many pleated pants as non-pleated. I'm trying to reform, though. This weekend I bought a sweater and some pants - not pleated, tyvm.

I think would have been really funny if they rated the offences on a scale of 1 to 10. 1 is "just needs a feminine touch" to 10 "no way. never. game over." Oh fudge. I just talked about video games again...

Nerdapolooza!

2010-08-28T16:23:00.000-07:00

I went to a Sci-Fi convention with a friend and our boys. It was SO crowded! I came out of there thinking "my elbows must be too big, because they were bumping into everyone." My friend's son was stopped about 1/2 a dozen times to have his picture taken for being dressed up like Boba Fett. He was soooo cute!

There was the autograph section with pudgy guards to keep us regular folk out (you had to buy a special "I'm allowed to see the washed-up talent" pass - which I didn't buy), a comic book section and a toy section. Needless to say, we spent most of our time in the toy section. My son picked out what he wanted to buy and they were like "cash only." I've had the same $4 in my wallet for about 3months. I NEVER use cash. My friend had to spot me $10 on entry because I didn't have enough money (let's go dutch. oops, I "forgot" my wallet...). Apparently, I'm the only person in the whole nerdiverse who doesn't know that these are cash-only under-the-table I'm-not-reporting-this-on-my-taxes kinds of transactions.

I was like "Do you take credit cards?"
he was all "are you a narc?"
and I was like "Do I look like a narc?"
and he was all "what do you weigh? 160? 165? Only narcs come in here weighing less than 220."
"What if I am a woman?" - I'm betting he's never seen a woman except for his mother. How would they know if I was or not? I'm dainty in this crowd.
"Right. the women are the ones weighing 220."

$8 in transaction fees later, I'm paying in cash, sporting my "I"m with n00b -->" T shirt and guiding a 1/2 size jedi through this thing like a full time dork.

My son's toy choice seemed pretty cool at first. He likes Clone Troopers because they're trained to fight from birth and have cool code names like "Scorch," "Matchstick," and "Rudder." He bought one titled "Airbourne Trooper." Who has a rife, a gun, removable helmet, blast armor and a satchel for explosives. Sounds cool, right? Check him out:

Look at that purse and skirt! ZOMG?!?! What's his code name? Lipstick?

"All units report in"
"Buzz Saw. Ready."
"Stone. Checking in"
"Fixer. Good to go."
"Lipstick. Fab-U-lous!"

I got called a creep today.

2010-08-08T16:16:00.000-07:00

"Keep it to yourself Creep-O! This is a house of Gawd!" I guess she called me "creep-O" because calling me a "creep" at church wouldn't be very Christian. OK, so I started at the end. Let me back up.

I started this new mouthwash today and it tasted fantastic! I mean the best mouthwash I've ever tasted. Including that bubble gum mouthwash I had as a kid. At lunch I was thinking "I can have water, milk, orange juice or...mouthwash!" it was so good. It was purple so I was expected cough-syrup grape flavor, but man was I wrong! Target sells it and it's mint-eucalyptus. I've had mint plenty, so I'm guessing it's the eucalyptus. No wonder that's all Koala's eat! It's delicious!

I'm sitting in church and the pastor's talking about the condition of people's souls eternal consequences or somesuch, and all I'm thinking is "My god, this mouthwash tastes good on my teeth." I'm smacking my lips and rubbing my tongue over my gums and making mouth noises to the distraction of the people sitting next to me.

After the service, in the lobby a marginally attractive woman approaches me with a determined look on her face. My church is shaped like an amphitheater and I sit on one end and I recognize her as a regular sitter on the opposite end. I smile because that's what you're supposed to do at church, and she says "Keep it to yourself, Creep-O! This is a house of Gawd!" then marches off in righteous indignation. It's then that I realize that apparently, it's a come-on to look in someone's general direction and lick your teeth and lips.

Man's man video...kind of

2010-07-20T16:32:00.001-07:00

Brandon Flowers is the lead singer for the Killers. In his video, he's incorporated explosions, trucks, ninjas and Charlize Theron. Pretty much the perfect man-video. Check for yourself:

Here's another song that I hope does well. No ninjas, but I love the cadence the lead singer uses:

Glasses for Giants

2010-07-01T19:26:00.001-07:00

My son recently got the news that he'll need to wear glasses all the time. When I was told that, I felt like I was being forced into nerdom. However, my son has no self-esteem issues. He's picked out glasses with flames running down the earpieces. Today he said:

Son: I like these glasses.
Raesh: I do too. They make you look tough.
Son: When I put them on, everything looks smaller.
Raesh: When you put them on, you grow HUGE like a giant! Everything looks smaller because everything *is* smaller!

We then wrestled on the bed with his giant-powered magic spectacles.

Lepidoptera

2010-05-20T21:45:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I forget you’re just an insect,
Fragile and delicate with the slightest flutter of flight.
I don’t reminisce about your pupa –
Full of earth and consumption.
All I see is color and elegance
When your erratic aerials
Delight my eyes.
Through you I hope sometimes God
Might forget I’m just a human.

Grocery Store

2010-05-17T19:27:00.000-07:00

Raesh: We've got Turkey Ham, Turkey Beef and Turkey Bacon.
Son: Turkey can be anything!
Raesh: It's O.K., Turkey, you don't have to try so hard. Just be yourself.
Son: We love you just the way you are.
*giggling*
Son: That's something Jim Gaffigan would say.

Thrice Holy

2010-05-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

"Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come." - Rev 4:8

The word for "holy" in Hebrew means, literally "set apart." Specifically set apart for religious use. However, the root word evolved to be richer and more meaningful. The implication developed beyond a separation from the world to "different", "alien" or "other." God is not bound by the world or its influences. He does not sleep, worry about the mortgage, become motivated by sex, feel inferior, strive to improve his status or try to find meaning. We humans avoid pain, exploit those weaker than us, worry about death, create hierarchies, garner respect and take things for granted. God does none of these. He is different than us.

Not just different, though. In English, when we want to compare something we add an "-er" to the adjective. If it's the most we add an "-est.": Jack Black is funnier than Adam Sandler, but Will Ferrell is the funniest actor. In Hebrew, they repeated the word. The Passover is holy. The temple's back room is holy holy (called the Holy of Holies). God is holy holy holy.

God is three times separated from us. We conceptualize him with finite minds and limited lifespans. We see him through a glass darkly. Our perception is so limited, God had to send us a Son so that we would have a glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven's precepts. There is a religious philosophy that states the entirety of Scripture is an anthropomorphism - like using an embedded video of a tesseract to "show" the 4th dimension in a 3 dimensional world. Except that's only one degree of separation from our dimension. Can you concieve of a 5th Dimension at two degrees? A 6th at three degrees of separation?

God is the not-like-us-est being in the universe. And it disturbs me when someone says with absolute confidence they know Him. When I hear that, I want to say "I once thought as you did. Then God changed my mind."

Super

2010-05-03T17:53:00.000-07:00

Vanessa and I are standing by the window when the helicopter starts shooting. The window reaches out with glass and bullets while I push her through. We fall down the cliff toward the ocean and I remember water isn't all that soft at 60 feet. Vanessa transforms into a gull below me and soars away. I can hear the pilot whining his guns to follow me. At least she'll make it.

I go in like a pencil and the water catches me in what feels like electricity. I can see bullet wakes around me so I dive - riding the adrenalin from the fall and the cold. An over sized fish comes alongside and I grab its dorsal fin. It moves so quickly that the water nearly blows me off. When my lungs can't take another moment, the fish flares its gills and she transforms. Vanessa's kiss fills my mouth with the air in her lungs. I don't even think about the intimacy until later. She repeats the race and the kiss until we're safe.

I tell her I have to go back. She should meet us at the rendezvous. She hunches into squirrel and runs into the woods. With that talent, Vanessa'll outlive us all.

*****

David's waiting for me. It's poetic, really. He's a traitor to his kind and I'm a traitor to mine. Most people think of superheroes as big and muscle-bound, but the truth is you don't really get that much opportunity to bulk up when you can bench press a city bus. David looks like an emo kid in preppy clothes.

"I should have known they'd send you. You coming in for a drink or do you want it here?"

"Depends. Where do you want to die?"

I invite him in. I hold open the door as he goes in first, arrogantly giving me his back. I taught him better than that. I'm strangely calm. Zen. Do the Shaolin fight in this kind of trance?

The door closes and my foot is in his oblique. I follow with a left hook. Way too slow for David, he blocks it easy just like he's supposed to. My blocked hand pushes his elbow, turning him slightly and jamming his counter. I'm twisted like a coil and unleash my right fist into his pubic bone with a satisfying crack.

Even a superhero can't walk with a broken pubic bone. I get the laptop and tell David I'll see him later. Humans would take three months to recover from an injury like that. I've got a three day head start at most...

Saint

2010-04-17T19:04:00.001-07:00

You glimpse him
And the sky charges with grandeur.
The grass shoots long and lovely and lush,
The wind settles to a serenity.
The very air breathes
As if it were all made for him and this moment.
Perhaps it is a gift from the night-sky's Endless,
Those demigods and mythical monsters
Eternally circling one another.
They look down on him, their kindred,
Knowing he's Awake
And feels the obligation due everything
Smaller in the Universe.

Children and Money

2010-04-10T18:41:00.000-07:00

Today we were out and my son said two funny things about money:

"They don't make two dollar bills anymore because now we have credit cards."

And later...

Raesh: Sure. If you want to go that's fine.
Son: Does it cost money?
Raesh: I don't know. Let me see. It says "Five Dollars."
Son: I don't want to go.
Raesh: Why not? You just said you wanted to go.
Son: I don't want to spend your money.
Raesh: Hahah. I think I'll be fine.

Solaris

2010-04-09T18:47:00.000-07:00

I recently saw Steven Soderberg's film Solaris again. It's not a great movie as a whole, but what's fantastic about it is that no one is fooled by the contructs. Even the contructs know they're not "real." No one is stupid and thinks they're something they're not. Yet the characters are human and can not help themselves but relate irrationally and emotionally.

Here is an excerpt from the screenplay where psychologist Kelvin is talking to his dead wife. He is fully aware Rheya's gone and this thing laying on his chest is a construct. She hasn't discovered she's not "real" yet. He's trying to keep some emotional distance, but she innocently thinks she's Rheya and pushes his resistance like a familiar lover:

Rheya: I don't actually remember anything. I only remember you. Have I been ill?
Kelvin: Sort of.
Rheya: And we've been apart?
Kelvin: Yes.
Rheya: For how long?
Kelvin: A few years.
Rheya: Were you alone?
Kelvin: Yes.
Rheya: Was that difficult?
Kelvin: It was easier than being with someone else.

Once Rheya discovers she's a product of Solaris, she relates to it like God:

"It created me. And yet I can't communicate with it. It must hear me, though. It must know what's happening to me."

In this way, the film is really beautiful.

Holy Saturday

2010-04-03T19:25:00.000-07:00

As a child, I always wondered about the Saturday after Good Friday and before Easter. In my mind, God was dead and the Earth and Nature should have rebelled and fallen apart in its own chaos. After all, Matthew tells us that the dead rose and walked in Jerusalem - as if all Hell had broken loose in a very literal sense.

Catholics believe he "rested" in the grave. No sacraments are given and there is no Mass. The world is left without religion for a day.

The early church has a doctrine called the "Harrowing of Hell." Based on a few verses in Acts and 1 Peter, they believed Jesus died and, covered in the sin of the world, was sentenced to Hell. While there, he preached the Gospel and gave unrepentant and ignorant souls a chance at salvation. He miraculously overcame sin and death and was resurrected then reunited with the Father in Heaven.

Personally, I like the idea of a day of stunned silence. The angels and faithful humanity shocked into a meditative contemplation - trying to discern the meaning in Jesus' death. The demons and Satan confused for a time about what to do next - listless in their "victory." I imagine that it was a day where nature tried to flex the rules and bend the boundaries and if you lived on that day, you would have seen many miraculous sights as the spiritual battle line disappeared for a day.

Good Friday

2010-04-02T19:28:00.000-07:00

I remember you.
And I remember that your body was broken.
And I remember that your blood was spilled.
I remember that you didn't have to do it.

I remember you.
And I remember that your body was broken.
And I remember how they pierced your side.
Then you defied death and you ascended
into the
sky.

- Gene Eugene

Louisville

2010-03-27T13:02:00.000-07:00

I traveled to Louisville, KY for business this week. As far as I know, Kentucky is famous for horse racing, chicken and whiskey. It wasn't race week, I can get KFC anywhere and I don't drink, so I was trying to find ways to entertain myself.

There was a play called "Fissures" that was being performed at a local theater, so I elected to do that. I didn't have high expectations. Louisville is not exactly Broadway, but it beat sitting by the indoor pool and reading.

The play was about reminiscence and memory. The acting was mediocre but the script was very impressive. The most powerful moment was when an actress gives this monologue about how she's stagnant and incapable of change. She sounded like an old woman set in her ways, or an Anne Rice vampire, or a mental patient. Later, the audience realizes that the actress is playing the memory of a man's dead wife. She's not able to change because she's this idealized recollection, not a real woman. It's the best moment in the play.

The picture is that of a heart-clogging sandwich called a "Hot Brown." They are a Louisville specialty and this is the original Hot Brown eaten at the Brown Hotel where the sandwich was invented. I took some hypertension medication before hand, just as a preventative. It's made of bread, cheese, turkey, cheese, bacon, cheese and parsley. Take that Crestor!

As an aside, the hotel I stayed in was haunted, but I didn't find out until I was checking out! Had I known that going in, I would have asked for the most haunted room. Spooky!

Dogs and the blind dream in scent.

2010-03-15T15:12:00.000-07:00

A group of us are going out for lunch. The elevator I'm in stops and a young blind woman walks in. The door closes and she says, "I know you're here. I can smell you."

"I never know how much of that stuff to put on. I can't smell it myself."

"Funny I didn't hear you, not even your breathing."

"I get that a lot."

We both get off at the restaurant level and I'm early (like always). The blind woman is by herself and I agree to sit with her awhile. We talk about the solitude and sleep of the sightless. You catch my eye and wave me over. I excuse myself and you're upset. You tell me everyone's waiting. They can't order until I join you.

I know you're right. "I'll say goodbye to that woman, tell her you're here and I that need to go."

"No, you need to come NOW." You're strangly insistent. Our eyes meet and they're not your own.

I give you the smile I always do; I touch the back of your hand. "You're a dream."

Not all saints were celibate

2010-03-07T19:15:00.000-08:00

"Do we not have the right to be accompanied by a believing wife, as do the other apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas?" 1Cor. 9:5

Mystery surrounds the wives of the "apostles and the brothers of the Lord and Cephas." Even church tradition is strangely silent about them and their roles. More than revealing perceptions about womens' role in ministry in the early church, I want to know about human relationships with an apostle.

I'm most curious about the wife of Cephas. We know Peter as headstrong and impulsive, emotional and expressive. He was an act-before-you-think-because-doing-something-wrong-is-better-than-doing-nothing-at-all kind of guy. Like we tend to do, I'd guess his choice in a mate would have similar values ("accompanied by a believing wife") but of opposite personality. In my imagination, she is practical, reserved, deliberate and considers all forseeable outcomes before making a decision.

I understand that Scripture's primary concern is about my relationship with God and my responsiblities in that relationship, but I would have liked to see an apostolic marriage. I can hear her say:

"God isn't angry and Satan isn't attacking us; it's just bad luck."

"How can you preach about temperance and be so angry with me, you hypocrite?"

"You can't just tell them how it's got to be, try and sympathize. This is completely different for them."

"I don't want to move again. I don't make friends as easy as you."

"Just stop and think for a minute or you're going to get us both crucified!"

"Paul's not your enemy. He's only saying what he believes is right...and he might have a point."

"I love Him too. He saved my mother. But can you please forget Him for a minute and think about us?"

State of Trance

2010-02-24T19:50:00.000-08:00

There was a parcel in the mail today and my son cannot stand to have those things unopened. It's insufferable in an eight-year-old's mind. I tortured him a bit with guessing but then opened it to reveal a compilation CD of a brand of music I like.

When most others I know hear my music I get a comments like "a ten minute song?! I've got a life to go live" or "I don't have the patience to wait that long for the good part." But this is great music from a world-class DJ and my son's heard my ipod before, so I put it in.

He began to shake his proverbial groove thang. He's not had any dance classes, so his brain just moves his limbs as it interprets the rhythms. He's never heard these songs before, so he is completely in the moment. He makes mistakes and doesn't think about it, just keeps on gettin' down. It's beautiful and free.

I couldn't watch.

I kept my head down and watched his feet, trying not to make eye contact. I ate my dinner as if there were no robust movement or distractions.

As I thought about why, I discovered something about myself. I averted my eyes because such a lack of restraint is unseemly. Shameful even. Uninhibited expression is akin to nakedness and somehow inappropriate. It's not to be observed.

This is why I'll never be an artist of any appreciable merit.

Why I Love Snow

2010-02-14T14:42:00.000-08:00

We've had a big snowstorm come through and despite all the moanings and groanings of others, I love it! I know it's cold and wet and icy and hard to drive on, but on the other hand it's SNOW! Allow me to explain:

Snow is peaceful. Unlike rain that comes down with thunder and lightning, flakes (blizzards excepted) fall with quiet leisure with no sense of effort.

The earth looks like heaven. The brown, soil-smelling ground of winter is covered in a majestic white that glitters in the sun. The whole landscape looks clean,fresh and unadulterated.

The community comes out. There's a park by my house and all the kids, middle schoolers and high schoolers came out to have snowball fights and build a massive snowman. Some people even walk their dogs.

Snow hypers up my dog! I love the brisk air, but she goes crazy with it. She becomes energized and loves to wrestle, fetch (a.k.a. find the ball in the snow) and roll around in it. The way she bounds around shoulder-deep is hilarious.

Hot chocolate tastes better when there's snow on the ground. That's a science fact.

Life slows down and forces us to change our routines. We slow down when we drive, if we drive at all. We get up earlier and see a part of the morning we normally miss (or if it's bad enough we sleep late). Snow almost forces us to be more meditative.

Newton tells us that for every action, there is an equal and opposite re-action. Snow's equal and opposite is a fire in the fireplace. Dramatically different, but a perfect compliment after the sun goes down.

Snow tastes like snow-cones!

Snow makes me sing. Specifically, it makes me sing "Sleigh Ride" and "Winter Wonderland." I'm not a great singer, but snow makes these songs spill out of my mouth.

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day and Chinese New Year!

Parable of the Unfaithful Servant

2010-01-27T06:58:00.000-08:00

The splendor of Shadiyakh was the righteousness of its citizens. As such, the old gods despised it – for they understood mankind’s impulse to conquer. “If humanity overcomes their own nature, then we ourselves would be subdued by them in time. We can never allow such purity of heart to prosper.”

The old gods could not look directly upon the city due to the brightness of its sacredness, so they sought the services of a human agent. This emissary would reveal Shadiyakh’s location that they might lay waste to the city and its citizens.

Raoe’s voice was a river stone tossed in a wishing well. His firm belief that anything could be corrupted earned him the blessing of the old gods. He would enter the town, tempt its citizens and dim the piety that blinded his masters. The old gods would leave no two stones upon one another. “I shall instill avarice among the citizens, for their city has no commerce and they are humble.” Raoe said.

“Make it so, for our wrath must be sated.”

Raoe knew a fall from grace is deplorable and destruction could arouse pity. He wanted to increase his own infamy and bargained with the old gods. Raoe was full of vanity when he replied, “If I can corrupt fifty citizens, build a market, make the women jealous and the men greedy, would you spare the city and allow envy to fester?”
“For fifty, we would spare the city.”

Raoe took treasures from the Forge of the Gods – blown glass with miniature cities built within, wheelbarrows that pushed themselves with fire and water, winged metal insects that have yet to be catalogued of colors that have yet to be described and other wonders. Each item was unique and uniquely suited to inspire desire in the hearts of men.

Raoe was met in Shadiyakh with hospitality and warmth.

“I have come to share the wealth of the world, join me in my extravagance,” he invited. But he was perplexed by the contentment of the citizenry. Eventually, he bartered away his treasures. As he left, the inhabitants apologized their little hamlet was too small to support such luxury.

**********

On returning to the Abominable Mountain, Raoe reported his failure to the old gods. They were pleased, for long it had been since thunderbolts were hurled at humanity. Raoe was not easily dissuaded. “I shall return and instill fear among the citizens, for their city has no wall and they are vulnerable.” Raoe said.
“Make it so, for our wrath must be sated.”

But Raoe was full of arrogance and said, “If I can corrupt ten citizens, build ramparts and make the women cower and the men violent, would you spare the city and allow warmongering to fester?”

“For ten, we would spare the city.”

Raoe took weapons from the Armory of the Gods – spears whose heads launched to a distance, powders that mix to make fire, arrows that split in the air like rain and other wonders. Each item was fearsome in design and suited to inspire terror in the hearts of men.

Raoe returned to Shadiyakh and was received as a friend.

“As a merchant, your generosity and kindness moved my spirit. For this reason I must tell you that your neighbors covet your lands and your daughters. Take arms with me,” he invited, “and we will defend what is ours.” But he was baffled by the security of the citizenry. Eventually, his weapons were politely used for farming and construction. As he left, the inhabitants apologized for being poor warriors for even the young men loved peace.

**********

On returning to the Abominable Mountain, Raoe reported his failure to the old gods. They were pleased, for long it had been since the sea drowned the lands of humanity. Raoe was not easily dissuaded.

“I shall return and instill doubt among the citizens, for their city has only one faith and they are unsophisticated.”

“Make it so, for our wrath must be sated.”

But Raoe was full of pride and said, “If I can corrupt one citizen, found a temple and make a woman our missionary or a man an idolater, would you spare the city and allow sacrilege to fester?”

“For one, we would spare the city.”

Raoe took artifacts from the Thrones of the Gods – idols that could cry and spit, foods that transport the mind into the realms of the gods, golden golems in the shape of men and beasts that patrolled of their own accord and other wonders. Each item was magnificent to behold and suited to inspire profanity in the hearts of men.

Raoe returned to Shadiyakh and was met from far off like an uncle.

“There are dark gods who fear your righteousness. They see their own obsolescence in your future and have intentions to destroy you. Join me in worship of them,” he invited, “so their wrath may be sated.” But he was astounded by the faithfulness of the citizenry. Eventually, he resigned himself that temptation could not distract them from their devotion.

Raoe did not return to the Abominable Mountain. He could not bear another failure under the expectant eyes of the old gods. Instead, he bought a house in Shadiyakh. He furnished it with as many of the treasures as he could reclaim. He worked with the people during the day and would praise the old gods at night. He became familiar and taught their children, all the while praying to the altar in his home. In time, he applied for citizenship and the ruling counsel granted him permanent residence within the city.

**********

Raoe’s prayers led the old gods like the faint smell of rot to Shadiyakh. The sky darkened with low, ominous clouds. The mountains creaked in trepidation. The sea pulled away from the shore in apprehension. Raoe took to the highest tower in the city.

“You who are Everlong, why have you come?”

“We have heard your prayer and it is our volition to lay waste to this city and its citizens. You have done well to lead us here, though our patience was tried.” The voice was like fire leaking up from the earth.

“You cannot. You yourself agreed that if one citizen were an idolater and if a temple were founded, then you would allow sacrilege to fester. You cannot destroy the wicked with the pious.” Raoe explained he was the faithless one and his house was the temple.

The laughter of gods sounds pleasant only to the insane. “We shall not be mocked. You deceive yourself. Indeed you are a citizen, but a citizen in full. You have looted the Storehouses of the Gods and given divine ambrosia to simpletons. Though you present yourself a tomb, your heart seeks peace and comfort. You have been so thoroughly corrupted with self-sacrifice that you would debase yourself for the love of this city. Even now, your soul seeks to protect Shadiyakh and your lovingkindess has been credited as righteousness. We will proceed with our dread intention for we do not see even one who is wicked among you. Our wrath must be sated.”

With that proclamation lightning struck the tower, a wall of sea rose up from the shore, brimstone rained from the skies and the mountains melted into the plain. Raoe, the adopted son of Shadiyakh, was the first to die.

Two Videos and a Dream

2010-01-06T18:54:00.000-08:00

There are two videos I can't stop watching lately.

Cheryl Cole doesn't want her videos embedded, so you'll have to follow the link to 3 Words, but it's worth a watch in HD.

I'm also watching (though less fervently):

Last night I dreamed I wasn't myself. More precisely, a me that never was. Like a me that had played football, had a few concussions and whose conscience was suppressed by basic training.

I'm on my stomach crawling through a silver air duct. I light my way with an over-sized flashlight. The beam reflects blindingly off the shiny artificial burrow and then creates false shadows. I'm cramping because I can't change my position; my shoulders don't fit. My shoes squeak as I push myself through. I turn a corner and find the body I'm supposed to bring back. It's just shreds of raw meat in clothes to me. I don't even acknowledge it could have been a person once.

I hear it first. I thought it was just the body scraping the metal cocoon, but this is bone and fingernails. I smell it next. Considering I'm toting a cadaver, that's significant. I can't flee, the duct is too tight. I just wait. It's at the bend ahead and I shine my light to where it should appear.

The thing is dark and I can percieve a long nose. I'm certain there's long teeth underneath. It's crouching in a hunt and it's not hampered by the close quarters. It leaps and I shove the flashlight into its muzzle. Glass shatters and everything goes dark.

Impervious

2009-12-28T17:07:00.000-08:00

I place my finger in the Ginko tree's wound
Where you practiced breaking a man's xiphoid process.
I wonder if the microfractures
took you to higher consciousness.
If we stood in opposition, and I crumpled in defeat and blood
Would you achieve the Buddha Mind?
Could I die and forgive you?

Imagining Joseph

2009-12-21T19:16:00.000-08:00

"Joseph, her husband, was a just man and not wanting to make her a public example, was minded to divorce her secretly (Matt. 1:19)."

I can't believe these stargazers went to Herod first. Told him they were looking for a “King of the Jews.” Now they’re here gawking at Mary's son and all of Bethlehem saw them - with their camels and gifts and strange accents and questions. Centurions will bust through that door any minute and we’ll all hang on trees. That star doesn’t help either. To get out of this one, I’ll have to move to frickin’ Egypt.

When Mary told me, I thought even she couldn't be so gullible. Poor, naïve Mary fell prey to some lecher. I could hear it all before she said it, “everything happens for a reason and God doesn’t allow anything to happen without his approval so in a way, this is God’s perfect plan.” I didn’t expect the fantasy about angels and immaculate conception – what pathetic, childish escapism.

Did she think the Nazarines would buy that concoction? They would say “oh, well in that case, we’ll make you our queen until the King is born”? She’s so idealistic and quixotic and pious; she’s lost in the world without me. But what was I going to do? I’d be the one fool who believed the lies and a cuckold too! She’d gone too far. I had to let her go, though she had nothing but her delusions and pitiful ruin.

Then I had a dream.

And people will shut their pie holes about you when they need their cabinets fixed…

Imagining Mary

2009-12-20T11:41:00.000-08:00

“Now Mary arose and went to the hill country with haste to a city in Judah (Luke 1:39, italics added)”

I’m going to live with my cousin. She’s older and married to a priest, but he’s lost his voice so won’t be able to say anything about it. Mom says I’ve ruined my reputation in Nazareth and I’ve got to go out of town “so you don’t flaunt it.” I tried to tell her that I’m not flaunting it, I just told them about the angel so they wouldn’t think I did anything wrong. She said that’s not what she meant.

They ripped their clothes and called me a blasphemer too.

Rachel and Sarah where whispering in synagogue. They asked me if I liked it and when I told them I was visited by the Holy Spirit while I slept, they said “don’t lie, we know what you’re really like.” I tried to tell them about Gabriel and the promise and how honored I feel to be favored by God, but they just giggled and asked if it was Simon.

Daddy said I can’t come back home because I’ve shamed his household. Joseph just had eyes of inevitability. He said he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it, but Mom is right and I should go live with Elizabeth. I told him it would be alright; that God will work out the details, we just have to have faith – like the patriarchs. Joseph was hollow and told me I should go with haste.

I just felt wings like butterflies in my womb.

Christmas List

2009-12-18T18:48:00.000-08:00

Well, it would seem that it's that time of year again. Yes, Christmas (or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or, if your a Satanist, the Worst Day Ever). I feel all kinds of goodwill towards men, mostly so that they'll like me enough to buy me gifts.

So in order to help out, Here's my list of this year's trend-setting must-haves:

Gift Rap is essential to any gift-giving.

Remember the reason for the season.

I like practical gifts.

Can I get one of these that says "Don't be jealous, Han"?

It doubles as a fallout shelter, safe room and doesn't look that much like a coffin!

Nothing says "Christmas" like an ejector head!

Happy shopping!

Things I missed about America

2009-12-12T13:41:00.000-08:00

Saturday, Nov. 28

We're on the plane back to the U.S. Here are some things I miss about America:

- English background conversation. I don't listen in, but I could if I wanted to!

- Copyright laws. Did I tell you that there was this familiar coffee shop with a green circle, white font and a woman at the circle's center? It was Leymo Coffee. And appropriately named (wish I had a photo of that one).

- Bush. Gavin's just not as good by himself. Has nothing to do with China, but I still miss them.

- Driver's education. I'd take any American 15 year old with a permit over a Chinese driver - unless I'm missing the emotion "terror" for some reason.

- Anonymity. Screaming Chinese children and expressionless stares aren't as fun as you might guess.

- Thanksgiving. Yeah, we totally missed it. We said "Happy Thanksgiving" to each other, but no cranberry sauce (in the shape of the can) or sweet tato pie this year.

- Pizza. Seafood sushi "party pizza" with BBQ sauce didn't quite hit the spot.

Chinese Srix Frags

2009-12-11T17:53:00.000-08:00

Friday, Nov. 27

Another day where you either laugh at yourself or seethe. This resort is a sucktastic example of halfassism. Maybe when construction is complete, they'll have things like working escalators (the non-functional ones are everywhere for the convenience of the guests) and operational rides (we got to go on one in the whole place).

My son's appetite is back and there's a Pizza Hut at the resort. Pepperoni Pizza! We sat down and there's only one kind of "Party Pizza" - no description. But it's called "Party Pizza" so it's got to be good, right? umm...not so much. A party pizza has the same crust you're used to, but instead of tomato sauce they put on an oyster/BBQ sauce. Add on the cheese and then cut the square pizza into nine slices. The toppings are corn, carrots and bell peppers. On each slice is a special topping - either shrimp wrapped in seaweed or scallops on chinese broccoli or clam in a bed of bean curd. Authentic Italian pies need not apply, we're catering to a distinctly non-American palate.

I've decided the Chinese must like this resort because they can't get travel visas. They have fake Interlaken so they can see pseudo-German architecture. They go to the fake Grand Canyon (man made) because no way will the Chinese government allow its people to come to the U.S. They should really finish building the place before they allow tourists in.

On the funny side, I was a superstar at this place. All these schoolchildren where there and were very enthusiastic about seeing a Westerner. They would wave and giggle and some would say "Herro!" I passed by a whole herd of them, giving them high-fives and smiling even though it may make me look foolish to the adults.

Detained by Hong Kong Immigration

2009-12-10T17:49:00.000-08:00

Thursday, Nov. 26

My son's still sick. He's burning up with fever and still has an upset stomach. My father-in-law had plans to take us all to a resort in China and was disappointed that we wouldn't be able to go. We took my son to the doctor who said he just needed rest. "Great! He can rest at the resort!" said my F-I-L.

We had already missed the tour bus, so we took a cab to the border. We were turned away because we didn't have the permits to drive into China. We then went to cross the border on foot only to discover that upon entering Hong Kong, our passports weren't stamped. Three hours in detention. I reframed the experience as better to discover the problem now rather than in the airport trying to leave the country. Furthermore, better to be detained on the Hong Kong side than in China...

The resort was laughable - still under construction! Our hotel had a sign that said they were still building the hotel, but promised that the noise would stop after 6pm. Thankfully, my son was so tired from the travel that the noise didn't phase him. FIL wanted to go to a show that night and wanted to wake up my son so he could enjoy it. I suggested I stay with him. When my son finally woke, he was fever free.

As for the humor, the whole day was darkly comic with a FIL having all these fantasies and fate standing in the way.

Chinese Soap Opera

2009-12-09T16:26:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, Nov. 25

Still a little sick today. My son was told by his grandparents he could have anything he wanted in the store. I was so proud he didn't take advantage and just chose a Rubick's Cube. He had every opportunity and even permission to go crazy, yet he still was frugal and modest.

We had Dim Sum for lunch and there was a wide screen TV showing a Chinese soap opera. I leaned over to my son and began to "translate" for him. He quickly joined in telling a silly story that went a little something like this:

Scene 1: Granddaughter, Father and Grandmother are in an argument. Grandmother is crying. Father and Granddaughter are trying to teach her how to have a proper, throw yourself on the floor and wail kind of fit. Grandmother isn't a good student.

Scene 2: Two older women walk arm-in-arm with a younger woman between them. Their conversation is very serious. A new Olympic event called the "Four Legged Race" has been invented and each of the middle woman's legs has been tied to one of the other womens' legs. They're practicing for the gold.

Scene 3: Father, Grandmother, and Granddaughter are in a restaurant with Mother and another lady. The family is wondering why this unfamiliar lady has unexpectedly joined them for dinner and is eating their food!

Dinner was with more non-English speaking relatives. My son got sick and threw up in the bathroom. There was discussion that I gave him my illness. Furthermore, we took the train home and had to get off and on at every stop along the way so that my son could hurl.

The picture is of a pass on Song Mountain. You can see the old path below, covered in snow. There's an iron chain against the mountain face to hold on to and keep you from slipping. The new path is above, with the guardrail.

I'm on a boat!

2009-12-08T17:06:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, Nov. 24

We cruised around Kowloon Bay on a boat that belongs to a family friend. He's a retired police chief of Hong Kong during British leasing of the island. Apparently, there's a good buck in that gig because he owns a single family dwelling with a yard and carport (most people live in high-rises and a parking spot can cost as much as your apartment), a car, two boats and a Philippino maid.

Afterwards, I took my son swimming against my protestations and better judgment. We ate - this group was smaller and it wasn't seafood, so I did better saying "no" and holding what little I did eat.

People speak Cantonese so quickly that I can't keep up. There was plenty of laughter, but I missed the jokes and I'm in a humorless mood. Usually, that's a great time to rely on my son to do or say something funny, but he's been consumed with a Nintendo DS game he hasn't been able to solve.

On returning to the U.S., I discovered that the above song was nominated for a Grammy. That's pretty hilarious considering the whole song is a satire poking fun at a particular genre of rap.

To Hong Kong

2009-12-06T13:19:00.000-08:00

Monday, Nov. 23

I'm sick again today and worse than yesterday. I didn't sleep much at all and I'm physically weaker than I've been on the whole trip. Fortunately, no sight seeing today - we're flying to Hong Kong. But that also means I lug our suitcases around here and there. I couldn't take a mountain pass to a temple today.

I saw a Chinese Subaru commercial where the couple is driving through an idyllic countryside. They scatter autumn leaves and demonstrate superior handling while avoiding magpies. Upon arriving at their seaside destination, we discover he's in a tux and she's wearing a wedding dress. He places a ring on her finger and the camera zooms out. The shot reveals it wasn't a ring at all - he wed her with the keychain to the car!

Arrived in Hong Kong to a seafood banquet. I ate enough to be polite and regretted it. The in-laws got wind I was feeling ill and I was given a foul-smelling herbal remedy. The stuff is made from Philodendron bark, citrus peel and licorice root and I couldn't get the smell off my hands even though I only touched it for a second. It's a pill, so it landed in my hand then it was popped in my mouth and washed down. Still, the smell was on my fingers until morning. I suppose it worked because I didn't throw up. However, I was nauseated by burping up the stuff.

Chinese Jews

2009-12-05T00:28:00.000-08:00

Sunday, Nov. 22

I've been sick for several days, and today has been the worst so far. My father used to joke that wherever we went travelling, I'd have to "leave my mark." He meant that sometime on the trip I would vomit. So far, that's been true of every long trip I've been on.

However, I'm not going to let a little stomach bug keep me from seeing China. I've walked and climbed and even Kung Fu'd a tree all with a queasy stomach, so I wasn't going to quit now.

The biggest surprise of the whole vacation came on this day. I'm suspicious of our "personal tour guides" and the relationships they have with the government. I've not expected to see any slums or poverty or anything that might reflect bad on China. So when we went to the "Old Jewish Quarter" of Kaifeng, I was taken aback.

The old synagogue was destroyed by flood and now a hospital stands on the spot. However, there is still "Teaching the Torah Lane" and it's in an impoverished part of town. The tour guide knew a Jewish ancestor named "Chao" who still lived at 21 Teaching the Torah Lane. The guide called her "Nah-Na" and she welcomed us into her home. It was just two rooms with a pot for cooking outside. One room was the bedroom and then there was a common room. The whole house was as big as an average master bedroom in the U.S. In the common room, she had a bit of a museum with menorahs, a painting of what the synagogue used to look like, a National Geographic article from 1910 about the Kaifeng Jews and about half a dozen brochures. Nah-Na seemed over eighty and smiled easily to foreign strangers.

Today's bit of humor: My wife can't allow herself to use a squatting toilet, so whenever my son goes to a bathroom, he checks the stalls. He dutifully reports to her if there are sit-down potties.

Shaolin Temple

2009-12-04T18:34:00.000-08:00

Saturday, Nov. 21

So ever since David Carradine did the show "Kung Fu," I wanted to visit the Shaolin Temple. I wanted to lift boiling pots with my forarms and snatch pebbles from blind monks' hands. Shaolin began Zen Buddhism and its Kung Fu is the grandfather of all martial arts.

I was surprised to find that it rests in a valley of Song Mountain, not at the peak. There are about 300 monks who live there and they can choose to learn Kung Fu or not. But seriously, who would choose to join the Shaolin Temple, of all the dozens of local monestaries - the one with the longest and most famous history of fighting styles, and then say "No thank you, Kung Fu isn't really my thing"?! Apparently the current abbot! The abbots are only selected from monks devoted to Shaolin. Monks from other monasteries would be rejected for that particular job. So this guy spent his entire monastic career at the Shaolin Temple and never took a Kung Fu lesson!

That's just about the saddest thing I've ever heard. If I were the abbot admitting him for the first time, the conversation might go something like this:

Raesh: ...and this will be your dorm. Kung Fu lessons start promptly at oh-six hundred, right after morning meditation.
Future Abbot: I don't really want to do that.
Raesh: I'm sorry; are you ill?
Future Abbot: No, I just am not all that interested in Kung Fu. Maybe I could sweep the courtyard or something.
R: You want to sweep?
FA: Sure! Or maybe I could cook while you guys are working out.
R: Cook...? Son, you realize this is the SHAOLIN temple, right? Here at the Shaolin Temple we kick ass. Not only was the phase "ass kicking" coined here, we stardardized and developed metrics to evaluate the severity of delivered ass kickings. And you're here to sweep and cook?
FA: Yes sir.
R: Some advice for you, son. Pack up your apron and make-up bag and go to the temple monestery at other side of the mountain. I hear they founded Jazzercise there.

After you enter the front gate, there are all these stele telling the history of the temple and its monks. Interspersed among them are Ginko trees (of Ginko Biloba fame) with all these divots in them.

These divots were made in a simple 4 step process:

1) Make a gun with your hand like you did as a child
2) Shoot the "gun" leaving your thumb down
3) Extend your middle finger directly under your pointer
4) Jam your fingers as hard as you can into a Ginko tree over and over again until you make a divot

Yeah, I know! Crazy. Of course I did it. Once. Instead of deepening an existing hole, I decided to start my own. I'm pretty impressed with myself that I broke off a piece of bark and my finger stopped hurting after only 10 minutes. My son wussed out. He wouldn't even stick his finger in a pre-made hole to pretend for a picture.

Did you know that the official snack vending partner of the Shaolin Temple is "Youcky Food Co, LTD"? True story.

Longmen Grottos and White Horse Temple

2009-12-03T05:09:00.000-08:00

Friday, Nov. 20

Longmen Grottos were on the agenda today, which are a series of man-made caves all devoted to Buddha. The largest is the size of Mount Rushmore/Stone Mountain and the smallest is about 2cm. Our guide said few were carved out of devotion, many of them were carved for political reasons (the Mount Rushmore Buddha is said to have the face of an Empress). Only the oldest were carved by the faithful.

I've been a bit of a celebrity in China. This is off-season for tourism and many Chinese visit these places because of lower prices and fewer crowds. As a result, I'm just about the only Westerner around. My coat is blue, so my eyes aren't their normal grey. They're blue and the provincial Chinese haven't seen much of that. Smiling is considered foolish, juvenile or unseemly and the Chinese are giving me a lot of blank-faced eye contact. I've had my picture taken half a dozen times by young Chinese and at the Longman Grottos there were a few Red Army soldiers who waved at me like schoolchildren.

The oldest Buddhist temple in China is nearby, called the White Horse Temple. Originally called the White Horse Bar and Inn, the first monks stayed at the Inn at the request of the Emperor. In time, the Emperor remodelled the tavern and made it into a temple. Every summer, the monks here save turtles and carp from the market with their spare change. They release them in the temple pond.

Our hotel is by far the most Western we've had, with all the amenities like recessed lighting and a sit-down toilet. However, the shower had a sign that reads:

Night Train to Louyang

2009-12-02T15:41:00.000-08:00

Thursday, Nov. 19

We had a last visit on Wudang Mountain to the Prince Palace. It wasn't built for a prince nor is it a palace. This area of the temple complex was named because the brightest children were educated here - ostensibly to become government officials (princes). It's really a large dormitory (palace) with a temple. They built the main street to follow the contour of the mountain.

Wudang is like a shanshui painting. The mountains don't rise above the treeline, so they're all capped with evergreens. Mists roll in alternately obscuring and revealing the landscape and when they're thick the peaks look like islands in a sea of vapor. The temples are built as part of the mountain rather than trying to dominate it. In fact, the whole of human occupation is insignificant to the enormity and majesty of the nature surrounding it.

We took a night train to Louyang, but arrived shortly after dark. The train was easily as old as me and it had this old-world charm. If it were at night, you might walk by a cabin and find a gypsy telling a businessman's fortune in one car. In another, a man wearing a linen suit would be seducing a young wife while her new husband sleeps in the bunk above. Another car might have grifters - men with crooked smiles and women with bright, flowing skirts - playing a game of chance. A missionary couple with too much luggage and a secret, a man who smokes cigars so you can't tell his sweat smells like stone, a linguist with an unnerving twitch carrying a sheathed sword he never lets go of, a preteen Chinese girl dressed for a party with a bow in her hair but with her fingertips chewed up, a big Texan with a big hat and a big mouth travelling with his Hungarian accountant (half his size, who looks suspiciously like a bodyguard), a woman says her name is Spring but she has three personalities named April, May and June...

Sadly, none of these people were on our train. Maybe they got on at our stop, but our leg the ride was largely banal - full of cigarette smoke and an overactive radiator. We did get to see this sign, though:

Wudangshan

2009-12-01T16:50:00.001-08:00

Wednesday, Nov. 18

Today we're at Wundang Mountain - the birthplace of both Taoism and Tai'chi. This temple complex suggests the kind of remote mountain temple you see in the movies. There are thousands of snowy steps up the mountain and it's altogether picturesque. Most of the temple complex was built at the same time as the Forbidden City (if nothing else, those Ming Dynasty Emperors did a lot of building) and has similar architecture.

The picture taken above was from a guardtower with the standard camera from my son's Nintendo DSi. I wish it could capture the the mountains that were surrounding the lens and the mists and the chill and the smell of evergreens mixed with incense and the wonder of the entire experience.

I was hoping to hike my way up, but it was so cold and the path so steep that the family voted to take the cable car to the highest peak. Even so, there were plenty more stairs. At one point, my son refused to climb any further and he and his mother turned back.

I continued on to the highest temple, the "Golden Palace." It's about the size of a toolshed in the U.S. and the brass gate that gave the shrine its name in antiquity has since tarnished. There was a single Taoist priest manning the altar, but my tour guide said he wasn't taking questions from tourists.

I'm not sure I believe him. For one, this is the same guide who explained the tenants of Taoism as "the Ming Emperor used Taoism to keep the poor people in their place. You must be content with your vegetables (vegetarians are not strong; they can't overthrow the government) and you have some work, so you should be happy and content." And another thing, what priest doesn't like to talk about his religion? I think the tour guide didn't want to waste his time, breath and the precious firing of neurons translating all that religious drivel.

I'm sure something humorous happened, but I've had an attitude of reverence and awe most of the day.

Ming Tombs, Sacred Way, Great Wall of China

2009-11-30T03:08:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, Nov. 17

In the same way the Forbidden City failed to meet expectations, the Great Wall exceeded them. I expected to see a really long wall. Whoop-tee-do. Wrong! The magnificence of the Great Wall is they didn't try to overwhelm or conquer nature in building the wall. They went along with it.

The Forbidden City sought to extinguish nature and rebuild it better in its own image. The gardens are paved over with little holes for the trees to grow out of. The river that runs through the city is encased in stone. Even the "wild" parts are clearly structured and tamed.

Not the Great Wall. It's out in the mountains and valleys and surrounded by beauty and no-man's land. It looks like the Spine of the World. Looking out, nature is unspoiled but for a path that follows the easiest route over the top of the mountains.

My son and I ran the wall until he tired. We climbed up steps to a peak and photographed from above. It was fantastic and unbelievable to run as father and son down the Great Wall.

As we were driving, I saw a hotel shuttle bus with the name "Beijing 100% Perfect Hotel." I quickly pointed out that they have a lot to live up to and my son promptly states," I don't believe they're 100% perfect because they don't have peace, holiness and fellowship." I laughed even harder at his private Christian school education when he adds (for his father's benefit), "But I won't tell them. I'll give that to them and know it's wrong in my mind."

My discerning and wise diplomat!

Tienamen Square, Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven and Summer Palace

2009-11-29T02:30:00.000-08:00

Monday, Nov. 16

I can't believe I'm writing this, but the Forbidden City is not as impressive as you would imagine or as it's portrayed in movies. My usual take is that film can't capture the scope or grandeur of a place. Any cathedral presented in a movie is horribly deficient. The Forbidden City is indeed grand with lots of buildings and courtyards, however for a national treasure, it's not well kept. Print is fading, only 5 or 6 of 999 rooms are "restored," meaning they are furnished at all. The rest have closed doors.

Those rooms that are reconstructed have one of two crowd control options. Either ropes keep you 20 yards away (like the emperor's audience room) - making me wish I had binoculars to see the detail - or this thick reflective glass is over the doors and windows that glares so badly, it's impossible to take in the whole room at once (like the empress's bedroom)- resembling a darkened room investigated with a handheld flashlight.

Truth be told, when Chaiman Mao was marching on Beijing, the palace was looted by the fleeing government. The treasures were taken to Taiwan because the Communists had no respect for religion or previous regimes. They feared that the ancient treasures would be melted down and turned into currency, so they took all they could. Now, the Communists have little more than the buildings and the Taiwanese have little more than their relics.

In front of many doors in China are a pair of lions on each side of the entryway. The female is on the left as you enter, the male is on the right. The female lion has a cub she's playing with. The male holds what looks like a ball under his paw. The Forbidden City has many such lions.

Tour guide: While the female is caring for the cub on the left, do any of you know what the male is doing?

My son: Playing soccer?

First Impressions - Beijing

2009-11-28T18:23:00.000-08:00

Sunday, Nov. 15

We arrived at Beijing today. A Chinese Opera House backs right up to our hotel. I was hoping we could go to a show this first night, but they aren't performing.

My seven year old boy did great on the plane. I worried that he'd get restless, bored and start acting out. He *did* get restless and bored, but didn't act out. I'm always facinated by what people talk about once all the polite plesantries and usual topics of conversation are exhausted.

For me, I made a pointy finger with one hand then hit it with another. It swung wildly then started zeroing in like a compass. It pointed at my son and I said "Look! I've got a Favorite Boy Detector. And it works, because you're my favorite boy!"

He did the same thing, but it pointed at his mother across the aisle and behind us. I informed him that his Favorite Boy Detector was clearly misaligned because it didn't even point to a boy.

My first impression of Beijing is that people are used to waiting in lines. There's almost no line "chivalry" where one might let a woman or elderly person ahead. They don't mind separating parents keeping up with their nimble children or lovers holding hands. It's a free-for-all to get what they want from a line. I saw a bus station FULL of people with six busses lined up. The tour guide explained public transportation is good, easy to use and travels everywhere - if you get an opportunity to use it.

Going to China

2009-11-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

I'm going to China tomorrow. I have this fantasy where I'm visiting a monastery on one of the holy mountains (can I pick? I choose Wudang). The "personal tour guide" gives me a break and I can do a bit of hiking around the temple area. At this time of year, it's cold and stark but the mists make it look like a shanshui painting.

I serendipitously come across a monk meditating. I join him, trying to imitate his pose and serenity. He senses the wild, undisciplined thoughts that continually interrupt the emptiness of my mind. He asks, in English, "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me how you can be both compassionate and dispassionate."

I'll give the G.I. Joe back already!

2009-11-08T23:38:00.000-08:00

So this rich young man comes to Jesus and asks what he has to do to get into Heaven. Jesus replies the usual, "don't kill anyone, don't steal peoples' stuff, don't sleep around," etc. The young man says he's done all this, but being the introspective sort, he asks, "what do I lack?" Jesus then says, "sell all you have and give it to the poor - you will have treasure in Heaven. Then come follow me." The Scripture tells us the wealthy young man heard this and went away, sad.

I am that young man.

In many ways I'm very wealthy. Though compared to other Americans I probably make less than average for my age and education; if I'm compared to the world I'm fantastically wealthy...the average income of a world citizen in 2008 was $7000.

Like the young man in the story, I haven't killed anyone or stolen anything (okay not true. But I can't find Billy Ohmstead to give back his Snake-Eyes with the twisty-waist action) or slept with anyone else's wife. And like the young man, I'm not really satisfied with the "I haven't done anything bad, therefore I must be good" logic.

If Jesus beheld and stood at my door and knocked in a white robe with a red sash, I'd invite him in and sup with him. But if he said you're lacking one thing - sell all this, give it to the poor and then leave to follow me, then I would very sadly tell him "No."

I'm ashamed to admit it. I'd like to say that I'm devoted enough and kind-hearted toward the poor enough and free enough to follow through on that kind of command. Truth is, I like knowing that I'm covered for my next meal. I want to guarantee my son's education for as long as he can stand being in school. I have responsibilities and obligations that cannot be fulfilled without money.

My portfolio is fully aware that black line graph is transient and in flux. I recognize that all manner of catastrophes (or, more poignantly "Acts of God") could make everything I have worthless. But I can't reliquish the control. If he really wants it, God will have to take it from me. I'm not going to give all of it away. It's failure. It's defiant.

I'd look into the brown eyes of the man who traded places with me in death-the one whose life I'm supposed to be substituting-and I'd say in my best here's-the-bad-news voice, "Yeah. Well, about that giving away everything to the poor part..."

Unremembered

2009-11-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

His name is a whisper on the lips
Of the Passer-by.
He walks nameless streets and enters unmarked houses.
Surrendering significance for forgetting,
He moves unremembered in a slipping of the mind.
Attention is not his to keep, and though he has yours now,
It is certain to fade without intervention from Fate.
Already his features build cobwebs in your memory,
Even as you try to recall them.
Only the twin suns of his eyes remain.
Indistinctly, he passes you and steps into the
Artifice of Destiny.

Subconscious Flood

2009-10-31T18:06:00.001-07:00

I dreamt there was a flood. I swim better than most and I was helping rescue people. I would swim out to a house and carry people lifeguard style to safety one by one. The water kept rising and I am more and more tired. My muscles are screaming, but I make myself swim out, take on the weight of another person and swim back.

I know this is going to be my last run. The water moves too fast and rises too high. I swim to where an overweight woman and her baby are chest-deep, even standing on their roof. I tell her to give me the baby. I promise her I'll be back for her. I lie.

I have no intention of coming back. I'm too exhausted. It's too dangerous now. I'll save her child, but she's going to die. But I lie to her and give her false hope so I don't have to face her realization and her sorrow. It's just easier to take the baby and deliver a weak promise.

I wake up disgusted with myself.

I should write more.

2009-10-24T07:42:00.000-07:00

Here are some more story ideas:

Time travelling thieves steal great works of art. Things that are "missing" in our time (faberge eggs, Leonardo da Vinci's "Medusa," Michaelangelo's " Sleeping Cupid," etc.) have been stolen by art thieves from the future. Of course, time-travelling art police follow them, but the thieves are the ones we're rooting for. Heheh ...Art Police... Stop! In the name of Post-Modern Impressionism!

This is probably more of a novel concept than a short story: Adam and Eve in the first year after exile from Eden. They see the entire Earth dying (changing seasons from Fall to Winter) and blame themselves and each other for their sin. The story of their relationship follows the seasons from Summer - when they're first exiled to the following Spring - when they accept and forgive one another and Cain is born with all the wonder and promise of new humanity. A sequel following Cain, Abel and Seth would make millions!

A Nazi officer loots the French countryside after the German invasion. In one of the chateaus he finds the stabbed Picture of Dorian Grey and absconds with it. The painting is restored, but as the war progresses, Dorian's painting transforms into a painting of the Nazi. Following Wilde, the officer first indulges in his power, cruelty and hedonism and the picture becomes more horrible. Unlike Wilde, the Nazi never is repentant and displays his painting with pride and revels vampire-like in his immortality.

Wanna make a million bucks?

2009-10-13T17:29:00.001-07:00

Periodically, I get these ideas for getting rich. This is my latest:

There hasn't been a ground-breaking Christian dating book I've heard of since "I Kissed Dating Goodbye." We should start the next fad and call it "Jesus Is My Wingman." We could relate what a wingman does in the secular dating world with how Jesus does the same thing spiritually and emotionally.

For example, your wingman supports you in approaching the opposite gender - Jesus fills you with confidence so that you can approach anyone, not just attractive people. Plus, Jesus can help you see the inner beauty of others and more importantly yourself. Your wingman distracts the "friends" so you can keep focused on your "target" - Jesus took your sin and now you're free to seek God. Plus having Jesus as your wingman is evangelism!

However, that won't make a million bucks.

What WILL rake in the cash is the merchandizing. Seminars on DVD, T-Shirts, the novel series (one for young adults and one for grown-ups), and the official "Jesus Is My Wingman" Study Bible. Once that gets underway, we'll squash that "Chicken Soup for the Soul" section with "Jesus Is My Wingman for..." Adolescents...Divorcees...Widow/ers...Single Moms...Over 40...

Call me if you know a publisher. I'll let you in on a portion of the profits.

Nice Dream, Jellybean.

2009-10-08T20:24:00.000-07:00

My son has had a fever for three days. As a result, he's had strange dreams. This one he had sounds like a fairy tale:

There's a witch who's spreading evil in the land. My son and some friends killed her and she collapsed. As she hit the floor, her body spilled into thousands of jellybeans.

He decided the jellybeans were evil and he should not eat them, but one of his friends, a girl, put some in her pocket. When she ate them, she turned into the witch.

There's a moral in there somewhere. I just have to find it...

... _ _ _ ...

2009-10-04T01:42:00.000-07:00

You've retired and spent all your retirement savings on a sailboat. It's not the biggest, fastest or most luxurious, but it's yours and gives you a few years of good memories when you find yourself in a dire situation. While sleeping, your ship lost anchor and is now headed toward a waterfall. You're a pretty savvy sailor and recognize that you've probably past the point of no return; the boat will go over the falls. However, it's dark and you're not certain - but the thousands of gallons falling hundreds of feet are loud enough to have woken you from your slumber and very, very near. You have the following choices:

A) Fight with all you've got to try and save the ship and your possessions. It's probably too late and the kind of maneuvering required will most likely tear up the hull and sail, but you've got to try to save your investment. Likelihood of survival is tiny.

B) Go down with the ship. You've had a good retirement; you can't start over with nothing. You resign yourself to your fate and enjoy what is bound to be your last moments alive. Likelihood of survival is virtually non-existent.

C) Spend what little time you have tearing down the sail and making a parachute for yourself in true MacGuyveresque fashion. You might get out with one prized possession from the boat (though the boat itself is doomed without its sail). Likelihood of survival is excellent, but you'll have lost almost everything.

What do you do?

Does your answer change if instead of stowing possessions, you're sailing with your best friend? The extra help increases your option A) likelihood of survival to "small" and the extra weight decreases your option C) likelihood of survival to "great." Option B) will continue to condemn you both to certain death, but you've got a nice bottle of wine you've been saving up for a special occasion...

Quick, write these stories before I forget them!

2009-10-02T19:57:00.000-07:00

A warlock or evil priest enters a town known for its righteousness with the intent of polluting and destroying it. Rather than corrupting the town, he is himself transformed, arousing the anger of his dark gods.

A young Japanese man discovers an Oni who may be either benevolent or harmful. The Oni will grant him three wishes in genie style and the young man decides this is a good spirit, a Kami. He makes wishes for wealth and success, enlightenment and hedonism and finally for eternity. It is this last wish that the Oni demonstrates his true nature and betrays the man.

A woman wakes up each morning with the distinct but unprovable belief that she died the night before in her sleep. She seeks the advice of doctors and sleep specialists, metaphysicists and existentialists and finally a voodoo queen. The voodoo queen reveals she is a disembodied consciousness who lives the last day of women's lives.

Psalm of the Serene

2009-09-26T02:17:00.000-07:00

When you came for me
I was beset with smiles of ravenous teeth.
Your form eclipsed the sun. You hovered above,
Rotating the world to where you must go.

In fear, I dared not cry out.
I was silenced by your horrid splendor.
It glimpsed you and thirst for unbearable things.
Desire gripped me by the throat.

Your dispassionate gaze boiled
Over-I thoughts.
Without hate or pleasure you cast your shadow
And my I was flayed.
You felt no joy or cruelty
Bisecting soul from flesh.

You purchased me with blood.
I was bought with a price of viscera.
Unburdened by conscience,
Your will is as immovable as your plum lips.

All my life I waited for you
Unaware of my anticipation.
In time I'll care nothing for you
And become one of your own.

Fallout of the Mountaintop Experience

2009-09-25T20:33:00.000-07:00

The effect of Abraham's trial with Isaac had devastating effects on his family. Right as he's coming off the Mount Moriah, Scripture tells us that "Abraham returned to his men and they rose and went together to Beersheba; and Abraham dwelt in Beersheba (Gen 22:19)." What about Sarah? What about Isaac? It is assumed they were with him, but would that be a correct assumption?

Genesis 23:2 "So Sarah died in Kirjath Arba (that is, Hebron)..." Well, Abraham was a nomad. This might not be unusual for someone who moves around a lot. But we read on "...and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah and to weep for her." Came from where? When he addresses the Sons of Heth, Abraham says "I am a foreigner and a visitor among you. Give me property...so I may bury my dead (23:4)." Abraham did not know the native Hittites and was not familiar with them. What had happened between Abraham and Sarah that was so traumatic to the relationship that they separated?

Isaac did not fare any better in his life. He is the least spiritual of all the patriarchs and though he receives God's blessing, his spiritual story is incredibly short. The faithfulness of Abraham's servant finding Isaac's wife is longer than the description of Isaac's entire adult life. God appears to him twice. The first time he obeys God (26:6). The second time he builds an altar (26:25). Other than that, Isaac is the bridegroom for Rebeka in the story of Abraham's faithful servant; he digs wells and gets into quarrels, but runs away whenever there is a conflict; at the end of his life, Isaac is the mark to his crafty son, Jacob. As far as patriarchs go, Isaac is a wash.

There is a commonly held belief that we view God through the filter of our father. A kind, understanding father or a fair but demanding father or a harsh and punitive father or even an absent father can establish our foundational beliefs about the Heavenly Father. What do you learn about God when your father ties you up and is about to stab you in the heart? Does it help when Abraham says he's doing this because God told him to? Was it reassuring when Abraham said "I'm glad I didn't have to kill you back there."? What about when Mom and Dad are arguing about the whole ordeal and Abraham justifies the act by saying "but I knew that God would have raised him from the dead!"? Did Isaac ever sleep well again in his father's company? Did he ever turn his back on his father? Was he always looking at what might be in Abraham's hand? How old was Isaac when he finally worked through the experience enough to build an altar himself?

Abraham, with his obedience, destroyed his family in deep, fundamental ways. His wife couldn't bear to be in the same town with him. He ruined his son's relationship with the God he followed so blindly.

Abraham's Epic Fail

2009-09-14T18:45:00.000-07:00

Abraham holds high respect among Jews, Christians and Muslims for his famous demonstration of faith in his willingness to sacrifice his son. Genesis 22 tells how God asks Abraham to make a burnt offering of his son and the patriarch dutifully does the deed. Just as Isaac is about to become a a postscript in Biblical studies, there is a divine intervention and the boy is saved.

I find this story horribly offensive. Call me unfaithful or disobedient or sinful, but I would tell God "no" should he ever ask that of me. Let me rephrase. Not only would I say "no," but "hell no" - knowing full well I'm rebelling against the creator of the universe who can dish out Job-esque punishments to make this life and the next full of torment. Did I make myself clear? HELL NO!

I've come to the conclusion that maybe my response is right and Abraham was wrong. Allow me to rationalize my sinful disobedience: what if the test was not a test of obedience, but a test of human compassion? Abraham pretty much proves his obedience time and again. Let me break it down for you.

God himself speaks to Abraham (not an uncommon occurrence to this point) and says "Take now your son, your only son, whom you love...and offer him as a burnt offering (Gen 22:2)." Abraham doesn't express shock (infanticide is a common religious practice at the time); he doesn't protest, doesn't negotiate and doesn't refuse. He wakes up early to get 'er done.

Note that Isaac is old enough to walk and talk and carry enough wood for a bonfire (Gen 22:6-7). He's old enough to question and become suspicious of his own father's motives. I'd venture to say he's old enough to remember this event into his adulthood. At what point did Isaac start crying in terror? As he was being bound, did he try to reason with his father? Plead for his life? Did Abraham turn a deaf ear or did he tell his son that this was all God's will? How deep did the ropes cut as Isaac fought to free himself? When Abraham raised the knife did Isaac scream or wince or just weep in hopeless acceptance?

When Abraham draws back the knife, just before the point of no return, he is stopped. By God's messenger. I've been in a corporate job long enough to know what it means when the boss doesn't want to deal with you anymore. Arrange it with my secretary. I'm going to let the district manager handle it from here. Call my people. God himself makes the request, but he sends a lackey to stop the horror. Abraham screwed up. Screwed up so bad God doesn't want any more to do with him. No where else in scripture does God, or even a messenger of God for that matter, speak to Abraham ever again.

Why would God do this? I mean, the text reads "because you have not withheld your son, your only son, I will bless you (Gen 22:16-17)." Wait a second, what did he say before as he was giving the command? He forgot to say something. A little prepositional phrase "whom you love." In the way my Bible is edited these two verses appear nearly side-by-side in two columns and that phrase is clearly missing. In a part of the Scripture criticized by modern readers as being too repetitive why isn't this blessing just repeated rote from the original decree? I'd venture it's because Abraham failed this test of love and compassion.

What about the blessing Abraham gets? Surely that means he was faithful and did what God wanted, right? Well, the reward is really nothing new, just a reiteration of the covenant already given. God's messenger is acting the gameshow host. "Awww. Nice try, but you didn't win this challenge. Don't feel bad though, you've still won $800 and a new cuisinart from the obedience round!" Abraham lost. He failed. This time, God didn't want obedience - he wanted lovingkindness.

Remember how I postulated that Isaac was old enough to remember this event? Next blog I'll talk about the consequences.

Time Travelling with Phil Collins

2009-09-10T19:49:00.000-07:00

I was on hold at work and they had piped in muzak of Phil Collins' "One More Night." I was transported from my high-powered cubicle job to a simpler time: My Junior High Prom. Never had a school cafeteria been so magical! With a mirrorball, balloon arches and fold-out tables complete with tablecloths and the finest plastic punch bowls Fort Bend ISD's recreation budget could afford!

I wore my brand new one-size-too-big-oh-you'll-grow-into-it three piece suit and prowled the room. And by prowled the room, I mean stood against the back wall lifting my chin up to the ladies in the universal sign of "sup?" (That's a shortcut to awesome and I don't mind telling you about it so long as you give me the credit.)

I had gone stag for a very good reason. My mother told me that girls never settle for the first thing that comes their way. This was the first dance of the year and no way was I going to be a sucker. Instead, I'd play the field. Keep my options open. Show them I don't need them and thereby amplifying my own desirability. The game is mystery and I was its pre-adolescent master.

Gentle reader, I must confess that I did not cut a proverbial rug that night. However, you must remember how fragile the feminine self-esteem is at that tender age. How would it have felt to have not been the first girl asked out on the dance floor? How could I have crushed so many budding flowers? I'm certain there are a score of women who quietly, in their heart of hearts, thank me for my restraint.

Domesticated

2009-09-08T21:08:00.000-07:00

A whiff of your sorrow
And I consider you with wolfish eyes
And pant at you under my toothy smile.
You whisper what a good boy I am.
I would devour you
If only I weren't leashed.

God in Nature

2009-09-05T20:03:00.000-07:00

"Let all the earth fear the Lord; Let all the world stand in awe of him" -Psa. 33:8

I went canoeing on a river today and I wondered about God's influence in nature. Rashi, the 11th Century Hebrew scholar, says that in Genesis 1, there are strong implications in the Hebrew that nature was rebelling against God as it was created. This seems to indicate that as God kept imbuing nature with more and more consciousness, he expected more and more obedience or conformity until ultimately he created mankind with high expectations.

I'm not sure I agree with Rashi. I think that nature reflects God quite well. It's both terrible and beautiful, just like God. God inspires both fear and awe. God can create both an idyllic heaven and a torturous hell; it doesn't surprise me that nature can be cruel and lovely. Predators prey on the elderly and the young, not because predators are cruel, but because they want an easy meal with the smallest chance of getting hurt themselves. In the same way, the predator's dispassionate efficiency holds a certain measure of grace and beauty.

But nature also holds a great magnificence that can manifest itself on a quiet river with a bored little boy. Once the novelty wore off and the "I'm bored"s stopped, the creative imagination of a child was laid over the micro-dramas of natural life.

I saw a reflection of a facet of God in a fish that ate a water bug, a turtle that fled from the smell of man, a boy with his fingers in the water, a treeline that blocked the sun, the light rain and flood of complaints, water flowing miles and miles to a destination that cannot be perceived. And, for the first time in a long time, I saw a glimpse of a reflection of God as a father steered a canoe towards low-hanging branch while his son, hands outstretched, squealed in delight.

The Interpretation of Dreams

2009-09-02T17:15:00.000-07:00

The ancients were the first to ascribe meaning to dreams and humanity as continued the pursuit. Whether it's a divine prophecy or a wish fulfillment fantasy or a evolutionary rehearsal of survival behavior in an unconscious mind, we still find our dreams moving.

I believe that dreams are the consolidation of emotional leftovers played out in the puppet theater of our minds. They shouldn't be interpreted literally because their very nature is the antithesis of literal interpretation - instinctual, subconscious and emotive. Punch and Judy aren't about plot, they're about character.

The best interpretations draw emotional parallels and bring the unconscious to the cognizant arena. Dreams come from an older part of our brain that was less concerned about keeping the lawn mowed and more concerned about surviving a primitive world. Though the dream images may be modern, the emotions and conflicts reflect universal human experiences from any time. Dreams remind us that despite the evolution of society, at our core we are still tribals surviving in a natural world.

This is my dream from last night:

I'm outside the city and I'm going on a journey. Looking away from the Israeli landscape back toward the edge of town, a group of people gather around a statue with a red drape covering. They're well-wishers and they give me little gifts for the road ahead. One gives me a walking stick, several give me fruit, someone gives me a river stone.

I'm gracious in the polite way people are supposed to be we receiving a gift from a stranger or an in-law. I smile and bow slightly, showing my teeth and offering my hand. My final gift is the statue. Someone pulls off the red drape. Lot's wife stands frozen in salt with her head cocked back. She's looking at all life owes her.

The crowd awes and I'm sure I smell rain coming.

Things I think about while walking the dog

2009-08-31T16:27:00.000-07:00

- Whenever my boss asks me to do something, I should give a Japanese bow and reply "by your command."

- Fist-pumping Wolverine is not a good idea.

- If I had a word-a-day calendar and today's word was "inasmuch" and I had a lisp, it would sound like "an ass munch."

- Why is intellectualizing bad in psychotherapy when the purpose is to change your feelings by changing your thinking?

- It's hard to use the words "bastard" and "Dali Lama" in the same sentence.

Words don't make good bones

2009-08-28T21:34:00.001-07:00

Words don't make good bones.
Don't try to rib up your lungs
With a sublime or grotesque poem,
Or everything that makes you upright
Will vanish at the speed of sound.