I love the spring. Eden must have been an amazing place, a watery green oasis capped with blue sky and lazy white clouds. Plants and animals simply were just themselves in that sacred, remote utopia. The utility of plants and animals to humans didn’t matter. God had made everything and it was good.







Time for Reader Feedback

I’ve written this blog for well over six months. It’s a very personal blog, with a little philosophy mixed in. My frequency is low to my mind. I haven’t received many comments; the blog analytics that WordPress provides are disappointing. Evidently I am writing to an audience of dozens.

If you like this blog or hate it please let me know. Consider subscribing to it. Comments do not have to be long, but go a long way in helping me build a better blog. Take a moment and tell 10 of your friends about it, by email, or like it and comment on Facebook.

I like writing this blog and will continue writing it no matter what. I need to hear from my readers. I enjoy writing it so much that that I’m considering starting a second blog that would be about politics – material that just doesn’t fit in the current blog. And I would be doing more of something I enjoy.

Please take a moment and give me some feedback! Thank you for your current and future readership!


For me the path of surrender in paved with grief. So much is already gone, so many paths have lead astray. Hopes have been dashed so many times. Grief is a death, something valid turned invalid. No matter how much power or energy I use to move through surrender quickly, grief quickly stops me.

To me grief is about men, communities of men, families of men. I look into my father’s eyes and can see his grief, my grandfathers and great grandfathers, all those generations back before the time when our family came across the sea. We fought for William, who brought glory to England, but also slaughter and grief, of the slaying and the slain.  It has been a long time since I have wept at the graves of my ancestors, made the soil wet where the bones of my blood are buried.

In this grief I must surrender that there is anything called a path, any conclusion that I can plan. There has been death and darkness, no daylight or night but a pall. I want to go to that noble graveyard and dig my own hole. There seems to be no other worthy activity. In this long night of grief I am denied that privilege. So I fall asleep on the cold ground wanting nothing more than to die.

The other side of grief is obedience, waking up in the morning light, I see her high on her-tower-throne. Hail Athena-Nike, Ever Virgin, Daughter of Zeus, Pray for me, this city, and its holy people. I am a man and I shake off my slumbers, wounded, still weary, ready to fight and die for Her once again.

Gratitude and Surrender

Odd things are happening here, frustrating things. Rude recruiters like to point out the fact that I have not worked in two-and-a-half years. I have done the best that I could have, considering the multiple crisis’s that I have faced. In March I interviewed twice and did not secure either position, rare for me. I usually get the job if I am interviewed for it. That has evidentially changed.

My resources dwindle and I am fatigued by dealing with issue after issue. I feel ragged and alone. I’m selling many things in my horde, trying to raise some money. When will my fortunes turn? Now would be a good time. I have been robbed of my good cheer.

I know in my heart that I have no control of the how, of the path my future will take. All I can do is be present and grateful for what I have: A safe place to stay for awhile. Food. Transportation when I need it. Location. The wind blowing in the trees on a cloudless day. The beauty of the city as I behold her. Friends. Blessed accidents.

So my hard task is to surrender the intensity of my need to know the how, stay in the moment and be grateful in the same moment. Surrender is a wound is a wound that heals.

Poster Boy

I have come to tell people that I’m the recession’s poster boy. It’s so hard to tell people in detail that has happened to me over the past two-and-a- half-years. It’s a shorthand way of telling them that all the significant wealth and possessions that I have had are now gone. Often times this has been a relief, but there is a remnant debt left over that is not large as the way the world is, but right now this debt is a mountain.

It’s hard to take the denials of employment personally. I have always done things my own way, and some people have disliked me for it. Even previously I was well aware that I have been discriminated against, and during this interval that discrimination has intensified. I am very well aware that I am dealing with a skills deficit, but the institution I chose to help me eliminate it, only to find that they were not a remedial institution and taught towards younger and far more experienced people. I need to find a better way to close the gap.

I do wonder, when I awake bitter and frustrated on days like today, about what my next move is. I will slough off my bad mood and walk or write. The solution is a daily one, leaving the “how” to the universe. Hard work this.

House Fire in the Night

Union and Tabor House Fire  (YouTube Video)

I had finally settled back down to bed when a bit after 3 a.m. I heard an odd crackling noise and my room began to glow with an orange-yellow light. I peeked out and a house down the street was fully engulfed in flame. I called the fire department. By the time I got dressed and out the door the fire department was on the scene.

Thunder and Hail

The window was bright, but off in the distance I heard thunder. The light dimmed quickly. One of the roommates was working on a meal right in front of the coffeepot. Grrr! I finally got to make my coffee. But I wanted more breakfast than that, and I needed to do some shopping for a print cartridge. McDonald’s and Kmart were in order.

I finally achieved food, but the clouds outside kept getting darker and darker. Rain started lightly, and I thought of trying to get home quickly. But I needed a print cartridge. So I crossed Madison, a 5 lane street, and walk across the dead-flat Kmart parking lot with lightening in the sky. My only words about my Kmart shopping experience to Sears: Rebrand your stores. Please.

Walking reminds me of all my years living in Muncie, Indiana. I walked everywhere. Restaurants and grocery stores were within easy walking distance. Walking is familiar poetry, traffic whizzing by, the weather a revelation. When I returned to Indianapolis walking was the way I remembered the city. Broad Ripple and the old Glendale Mall stirred my memory. I walked the canal towpath in the days before the Monon Trail.

While I was in the store I heard the roar of rain on the roof. Little did I suspect what I saw in the parking lot: drifts of hail. each hailstone about the size of a marble, melting fast. Walking across this was treacherous, but it got better. I walked  across Southern to Meridian, most of Southern has no sidewalks. I walked on the mounded up hail, then evaded getting splashed as cars sped pass.