Louisville

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.

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

"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

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

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

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

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.