Day 14 Riding to Devon

Day 14

Riding to Devon

January 24, 2017

Riding in the car allows thoughts, words and insights to romp, play and settle. Driving to the mainline is always enchanting as the road ribbons through gentleman farms. It is a meandering drive through history and as the fertile fields grow abundant crops, my brain grows thoughts and dreams. So, the opportunity to drive to Devon was warmly accepted. I drove back with these three stanzas.

Simple Gospel
Painful Death
Mercy Loves
Grace Now Rest

Gospel Power
Death Released
Mercy Triumphs
Grace for Peace

Simple People
Destined for Death
Mercy stops them
Offers grace instead

Day 13 Brothers

Day 13

Brothers

January 13, 2017

The clamoring voices barge in the front door of Bryan's space assuming his attention. He knows them really well. The old girlfriend constantly derides him for all he should have done. His old boss constantly hounds him to do better. When he lets them, these voices hang out all day long with no where to go. They are in for the long haul. They lounge, abuse, lounge and abuse.

The living room warmed by orange flames emanating from the brick fireplace highlights Tom's face. He has a gaunt look about him with thick locks of hair flailing left to right whenever he walks. Tonight he sits usual style with legs crossed and right elbow on left knee. He peers into his large cup of Market spice tea. He is encouraging Bryan to consider thinking about all the things that he likes about himself. Bryan needs Tom's guidance in these self-affirming endeavors. He guards his brother's space and leads Bryan likewise. Tom loves his brother, like a brother.

"Bryan."
"Bryan," Tom begs.

"I'm right here, bro. What?"

Tom looks out the window quickly turning back towards Brian to say,
"You must focus brother. You have a deadline."

"I know, I know" Bryan yawns.
He straightens up in his well worn chair.
"Tomorrow I am going to the clearing. Hey, are there any leftovers from tonight?" Brian inquires.

"Yes. Do you want some?" Tom asks.

"I do. I'm so hungry." Brian states.

Tom gets up from his brown retro chair and heads to the kitchen with his skipping gait. He begins his kitchen scuttling always making Bryan wonder why he takes so many micro steps to do something relatively simple. But who is he to talk? Tom's the doer, Bryan's the receiver. Critical, critical, critical. There's a voice for that one too.  

Tom sits back down crossing left over right leg with the right elbow moving back into place on his left knee. He stares at Bryan. Yes, Tom is worried.

Day 12 On Writing

Day 12

On Writing

January 12, 2017

I need time to write, time to describe, time to rearrange my words, time to see, to hear, to feel, and to think. I have started a story and it is true, it has taken on a life of its own. I want to describe, to make you think, to make you feel, to make you wonder.

I do not want to spoon feed my readers. I want them to be not only entertained but educated. I want them to see things differently, to walk slower after reading me.

Day 11 Story Continues

Day 11

Story Continues

January 11, 2017

The shanty has passed its test as time continues to carve paths and well worn grooves in the wood. The stately forest at the end of the long ribbon lane provided the walls to this old breathing home. Bryan and Tom's great grandfather visioned the shanty (in reality the cottage) and with his wife did what any homesteader would do, cleared land, hauled and hewed. Rarely anyone passes through here anymore. In the late 1800's the foot traffic surged but not today. The bustle moved to the other side of town. But Bryan travels the lane everyday from the shanty to the needle-floored clearing.

"Bryan" pause. "Bryan!"  pause. "Hey!" pause. "Bryan! Where are you going?" Tom's voice slices through thick fog finding Bryan on the lane. It doesn't matter what is in Tom's way. Obstacles? What are they? His voice always carries past and through substances and situations hindered by nothing and no one.

"Ugh, c'mon. Give me a moment." Bryan breathes under his breath. Tom shoves into mental spots and Bryan tries to find room. "I'll be back" Bryan yells lifting his head into the air throwing the words up and over.

Tom turns back leaping up the broad planked porch stairs. He knows. His persistence knows some limits.

It has been a long time, and for many, too long. There was a time when, moments of freedom, rivers of thoughts, avalanches of ideas and pelting words making significant dents was a constant flow. He knew, they knew and Tom always knows.

The clearing is not only a space in the forest but a place that offers freedom. Bryan walks slowly thinking about what has been, is, and hopefully will be. Time spent in the clearing is time well spent. Unfortunately, it is also time rarely spent.

Bryan understands the work while those pressuring are unaware and relentless. Bryan also understands that their pressure is the furnace needed for the melting to mold. It is a vicious cycle and often it is the very people who are unfamiliar with the process who ignorantly push beyond mere facts to get the product. He knows exactly what is needed and it is not in the realm of possibility. Facts, figures, and accounting are planet limitations, his limitations. Their unfounded desire pushes past these limitations. He needs the clearing to mentally clear.

And then he heard them, their laughter was sailing his way from Sandy Lake. The reservoir of past feelings flooded his dry land and though his thirst was quenched, his heart laid bare.

(To Be Continued...)

Day 10 The Story Begins....

Day 10

The Story Begins

January 10, 2017

He knew he placed the pen somewhere. Last night, underneath the book the receipt was found. The table full of mismatched items is prime real-estate for lost and found but it is not here either. His head is woozy, moving back and forth, frustrated with this old game. It has to be somewhere. But it is nowhere. The Grandfather Clock in the hallway cautiously dings and rushed-ly dongs. It is time. He is warned. He has to find the pen. It was so long ago.

"Bryan!!!!" Voices carry in this wooden shanty listing to the left for well over one hundred and fifty years. The waves crash in the distance on the wooded pier. It has been for ever since he last was seen in Springton. It has been so long. Where is that pen?

"Over here, Tom. Over here. What is it?" Bryan answers, rubbing his left hand at the back of his neck as if he just awoke from an overdue nap. Bryan is an early riser, you would never know by the matted hair at the back of his head. His look and feel never matches. He is tall, strong looking, deeply handsome and firmly unkempt. It's too much work.

"Bryan, there you are" rushes Tom, precariously balancing the lost pen on the top of his left ear.
"You must come look at this. Can you?" Always the feel of a deadline past. This is Tom.

"Tom. Stop taking my pens. Especially, that one." Bryan shoves the words out of his mouth with a firm patience. Tom suspects nothing.

"Oh!" Tom grabs it from the top of his ear and hands it to Bryan carelessly. The pen falls toward the wide planked wooden floor. Bryan reaches down and grabs it just before the land. All would be lost. No one knows.

~

Last night the whisper spoke loudly in Bryan's ear. Time. It is now time. He knew. They knew. And it was imperative he begin. He was confused yet aware of everything. It all made sense and nothing made sense. But it was time for him to begin and the pen was all that was needed.

"Please Bryan. Can you look at this?" Bryan lost in thought ran his mind to Tom's request.

"Yes, of course Tom. Let's go." Bryan pushed the pen into his frayed right front jean pocket. This lost pen has been everywhere and yet is usually lost.

To be continued....

(So, I'm trying something new. At least today I am.)

Day 9 Sunday Fellowship

Day 9

Niceties

January 9, 2017

Someone: How are you?
Someone else: Fine, thank you. How are you?
Someone: Oh, I'm fine. Thank you.
Someone else: Yeah? How was your week?
Someone: It was good. Yours?
Someone else: Yeah, it was good.
Someone: Good.
Someone else: Anything new and exciting?
Someone: Not really. How about you?
Someone else: Nope. Everything's pretty normal.
Someone: Oh that's good. Right?
Someone else: Yeah. For sure. (smiling)
Someone: Hey, have a good week. Good talking with you.
Someone else: Yeah, you too. Catch ya later.
Someone: See you.
Someone else. Yep. See ya later. Bye.
Someone: Bye

And another riveting Sunday morning fellowship bites the dust. Vulnerability feels raw. We cave. Consequences? Yes, depth in relationships.

Day 8 I See You

Day 8              I See You

January 8, 2017
I see your strengths and I see your weaknesses.  I am here to tell you, your weaknesses pale in light of your strengths. I see your worth. I see your value. I see your actualization of who you are and I also see your potential matter. Would you be willing to take the time to self reflect on who you are? Who you are to be? Who you are to become? And I'm begging you, would you please see this as critical?

You are worth loving. So, love yourself in a way that allows you to be unleashed and set apart. I mean it. Do you realize how you impede the others when you do not fully love yourself? We are not talking narcism, in fact, we are miles from that abnormality. Throughout the day and evenings, loving yourself actually makes a difference to those around you.

Behind your eyes I see you. I am inviting you to be present. Present to all that was. Present to all that is. Present to all that will be. Please come to the door and let us know you are home and invite us in.






Do not look to the left or to the right. Confirmation from humans is a shallow and stagnant pool. Just look inside, go to the depths searching. Your creator created you in such a way to know yourself deeply. This is not humanistic but simply being human. You are encrypted with your essence. Your gut, your instinct, your sixth sense is real - follow it.

Hey! We need you.