I’m exhausted. My friend’s funeral was today. I can’t drum up any energy for an interesting post. I’m just relaxing with Lisa right now. I feel the Spirit is pulling me down… deeper, deeper, deeper. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Read more
I’m exhausted. My friend’s funeral was today. I can’t drum up any energy for an interesting post. I’m just relaxing with Lisa right now. I feel the Spirit is pulling me down… deeper, deeper, deeper. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Read more
Jung, in his captivating autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, writes about a dream he had early in his life in which he sees a big turd fall out of heaven and crash through the roof of a church, totally demolishing it. He didn’t fully understand the meaning of this crude dream. Later though, he writes about his father, who was a clergyman: Once I heard him praying. He struggled desperately to keep his faith. I was shaken and outraged at once,... Read more
You see this tree, how beautiful he is. He is very tall and stands on a hill just outside my church study. I’ve looked at him every day for years, but only today did I notice him. You may be wondering why I call him “him”. I don’t know. But a good friend of mine a couple of years ago pointed that out to me when I was showing her another tree I admired. I said, “He’s my favorite tree!”... Read more
So my son Jesse comes home from school yesterday with condoms. They were passed out in Life class. I passed out when I saw them. He was laughing. I wasn’t. He said, “Just on time for Valentine’s Day!” I said, “Ya, right!” He said he was going to go to the sex shop in town and get some toys. I said, “Ya, right!” I remember when this 6’3″ dude was being given his birds and the bees talk years ago.... Read more
I am reading a delightful little book by Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write. A Book About Art, Independence and Spirit. Bloggers: get it. Readers: get it. It is the best book I’ve ever read on writing and the best book I’ve ever read that inspires my artistic passion. Anyway, in it she writes about a woman she admires named Francesca. She speaks truthfully, directly, honestly: She always plunges right into the middle of a truth, never leading up... Read more
To the heights! To the summits of seraphic perfection, strong holiness, sweaty saintliness! Reach, reach! My muddy arm stretches up, up, up, clutching an idea, a lofty ideal, to pull from the dregs my smudgy soul. It glances across (my futuring eye) to grab-marks in the soil, from yesterday’s attempts in the same style. The shock loosens my striving grip, and slides me back down to myself and I weep a joyful sadness. I find myself lost in grace once... Read more