The Sublime Roundabout

Songs in the heavens Reaching through the night sky Across the eternal dark To fill the immensity of space With light Like stars glittering in the Cold winter's sky The promise of glory and Radiance all around The King is born, they sing A Savior! In the City of David He lies not in marbled halls or On pillows of softest down But in a manger And while kings and wise men Would seek his face Tonight, and each night He appears to the lowest As angels sing His love So, when I feel the lowest When my heart is full of pain Or sorrow, regret, or suffering I think of the Child born long ago That He came, for me My finest, eternal Friend.

What light! That comes From angel lips Like distilled dews On parched ground drips Like honeyed joys Sweet and pure Like sunny days Whose memories endure So comes the words Sweet, dulcet tones Bringing grace Into my home Thank you, my angel.

Too long ago to imagine The process began Atomic cohesiveness brings particles together In super-heated geothermal reactions A bubble forms Viscous liquids separate and roil Mixing, dividing, combining again Atoms alike one another Grab on to each other A heavy, dense metal Fluid and flowing Begins to make its way up To the surface Squeezing its way between Fractures in milky white quartz Painting the surface of the rock With an unseen brilliance Waiting to be found And then, it happens Out of the darkness A light shines on this brilliant, yellow, soft metal Coming from a star From a place similar to where this metal was made Billions of years ago In a nuclear crucible The metal is taken And fired again Melted down, boiled To remove impurities And leave only the gold And you, and your soul Are much the same Made in a heavenly, brilliant place Yet coming from the earth we call Mother Find yourself refined through the life And the fires we pass through

Drifting wisps of white and gray Slip past my window The world enveloped in quiet chill The heavens touch the earth below Sounds are harsh from unseen sources Trees loom brooding and dark The sound of the mourning dove echoes And on my heart makes its mark Somewhere the sun shines bright Somewhere life is happy and warm Yet here, wrapped in fog, The world offers me no charm Just gray and drab, dank and chill My mind, my heart, my soul Like my eyes are filled with gloom Here in the grip of winter's hold Neither fully alive nor dead either Living life in a kind of ether.

According to the site tracker, I'm the only one who still reads/views this blog. Interesting. Which means I could write just about anything and no one would care. ;) Hmm... Perhaps this is just too public of a forum to air grievances. Not that I really have any, anyway. I did read an interesting article on NPR yesterday: http://www.npr.org/2012/11/28/166022894/mormonism-a-scrutinized-yet-evolving-faith# I thought it was insightful. I also think it's interesting to consider that my own faith is evolving. Like Sister Brooks points out in the article, there are main, core beliefs that people hold to, and then there are the satellite beliefs that we don't know much about but are nonetheless interesting and have some gravitational pull. Since the beliefs are relatively new, both personally and as a set of religious dogma, the orbits of these satellites are erratic, more like a comet than a planet in its circular orbit. Few things in life are perfect. Even things that we

Rain clouds gather And cover the sky In a steel gray curtain That blocks out the light The light continues to shine And it is warm and bright But here below the land is dark In the absence of the light People walk into the wind Pulling their coats around them tight The slight misty rain falls Chilling faces, noses, bones The uniformly dreary heavens Do not impart any warmth And the earth free of shadow Awaits the return of the sun

So, I'm a planner. Seriously. I am a professional planner. I plan things - specifically, I plan the direction the city I live in and work for is going to go. This means a couple of things. First off, it means that I have a vision for the community. This vision is informed by many different things, including by my professional education and training, by experiences both personally and gleaned from others, by state and federal laws, and by what has happened here in the past. The most important aspect of this vision, however, is input from the community I am supposed to represent. If my vision is just that of myself, in a dictatorial kind of way, imposed without thought or regard to the needs, wants, and desires of those I serve, not only is the vision inaccurate, but it is doomed to failure - like a plane without wings, it will never get off the ground. As it says in Proverbs, where there is no vision, the people perish. The next most important thing, though, is communication.

Now that we've had a couple of weeks separation from the election, I think it's interesting to note a couple of statistics: The most impressive stat is that for the first time since FDR a Democrat has won a second term with a majority of the popular vote. This is interesting because it shows that Mr. Obama clearly appears to be doing some things - many things, really - correctly. In what amounts to the world's biggest popularity contest, Mr. Obama appealed to the most people.Still, the popular vote was much closer than the electoral college would make it appear to be. Another aspect of the turnout, and related to the above, is the fact that Mr. Obama was able to win such incredible percentages of young (18-29 years old), black, Hispanic, and female votes. This seems to be an indication of two things: first, that Mr. Obama appealed to these folks for real and substantive reasons; and second, that the Grand Old Party has singularly failed to represent these folks. The Rep

Auditory beams Stream from between parted lips Shining from the soul

There on the hill she waves The banner of the land of the free The home of the brave That which so proudly we hailed With the morning's first gleam Before our eyes floats unveiled Eyes undimmed by tears Find in her the hope of tomorrow And relief from their fears We gather under her wings To pray, to debate, and to pledge To raise the hymns a patriot sings We love the red, white and blue Forever may she wave! And to her forever let us be true

... according to one man in Texas. I understand the feeling of despondency. I've felt disenfranchised in my political beliefs a lot recently. Actually, this extends beyond my time in neo-conservative Texas, and really goes back to my time in Utah. Utah is the reddest of red states. And among the counties in Utah that are red, none is redder than Utah County. Something along the lines of 94% of the population are registered and dyed in wool Republicans. That's insane. How can you have a robust debate over issues where so many of the population are in agreement? The short answer is, you can't. Discussions I engaged in out West generally took two stripes: the shouting matches and the head shakers. Sometimes both, and usually one evolved into the other over time. Because most of my social circle disagreed a lot with me about many things, these discussions were fairly predictable. You'd think I'd be able to stay away from them... Alas, like a moth to the flame... S

Just what does the moon smell like, anyway? How can you put in words that which defies description? As easily might a man condense a sunset And put it in a jar As describe the glory of you. People walk about Their busy lives Their heads in clouds Their eyes blocked by fetters They cannot even feel But some of us have come to know That we are not beings of physical matter It is not the physical that matters But the glory of the soul The strength of the light Emanating from within We who are awake to this reality Love the world And those who live here Because it is like being out amongst the stars Reeling with pleasure and wonder and awe From one moment to the next The light from your soul Commingles with the light from my own And fills the immensity of space And the deepest corners of my heart.

It has come again Another year older and Wiser, too. I guess.

Lo, here! They cry Over here! See this, hear this, and believe! Do this, try, live and love! Be happy, only thirty minutes per day! That's all that's required! Eat this! Drink this! Exercise! Run! Lift! Faster! Higher! All it takes is a few moments of your time. All I want is for you to be happy. All I want is some of your money. Free! For a limited time! Wealth! Fame! Success! Somewhere in this cacophony Of dissonance and clamor I seek the peace That comes From within There, in my own self Left with my own thoughts Seeking my own I see the glittering, illuminated And illuminating Me The real me The spark of glory that is battered and scarred But not diminished Never tarnished Solid, firm, bright, glorious

In which I look at what it means to be a liberal Latter-day Saint. I don't think it's any big surprise to those who know me at all that I have some liberal ideas about some things. It is quite fascinating to me the reaction I get from friends and family who either assumed I was like them, or who thought I was putting on a show in the name of stirring the pot. Well, I do enjoy a good healthy discussion about values/ideas. And having someone who is able to articulate a contrary point of view in a respectful and thoughtful way is always a joy. But believe me, being liberal - or having some liberal ideas - makes me about as comfortable as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I have had some very awkward exchanges due to my political beliefs, in settings that are very public and involving people who should have known better. I think perhaps I make them uncomfortable, too, so they respond to the unknown, to the disconcerting (a faithful, liberal Mormon is almost a contradictio

He remains alone, dark In the pit his own hands dug Cold and forgotten

I have a lot of thoughts rattling around my brain the past few weeks. Normally, I'd like to bounce them off someone to see what others think. However, finding someone who can keep up with my randomness is difficult. Read: impossible. So I shall pour out my thoughts here, and hope that you, dear reader, will have the patience to read on. Still here? Ok. Thanks. :) This morning I've been thinking about the debt in the United States. The current budget in the US is a complex thing, but to (perhaps overly) simplify: 1. Social Security. We pay a lot for Social Security each year - more than we do any other single expenditure. Social security itself is a complex thing. Instituted back in the FDR administration as a way of providing for elderly/retiring folks, as well as for those who are permanently disabled, and for those who are temporarily unemployed. The program is relatively simple to understand - those who are currently working pay into a pool from which the retired, et

What do you see When you look in the reflection Of light That is in a mirror? What do you see? Do you see yourself? Do you see who you are? Do you see what you've done? Or where you've been? Do you see where you're going? Your dreams and your potential? Do you see how the past has shaped these things? Do you see? Do you see, most of all, The light that I see? The light that is no reflection But that emanates from your soul? Do you see that? Because I do. And it is most glorious.

There Just there Somewhere deep within In the darkness Glows a spark A divine spark of The purest Light Like a single star Set against the deep Velvety blackness Of space Space! An apt comparison! Because space is nothing A void Where nothing is And nothing can be Cold, harsh, impersonal Yet where there is space There is nothing And where there is Light There is Something And it can be seen Discerned And it is good This Light Which comes from your soul And fills the immensity Of space Between us Within us Warm Pure Sweet Serene Sublime

The day dawns cold and clear The blue sky arching above The heads of people deep in love Holding each other near The air is cool at this season The leaves swirl as they fall to the ground A softer quiet can be found That winter's coming is the reason But not yet cold, still full of light Though there's a slight chill in the air The days are full and warm and fair And stars twinkle and blaze away at night The days grow shorter, the nights grow long And in my heart sings the Autumn's song.

I slide the thumbdrive Into the USB slot And access what is called Flash memory This device Its design and function Is called solid state Because there are no Moving parts The memory stored on it On this stick Could be accessible Forever But in reality The memory contained therein Is always moving Always touching For in it I see your face Ethereal and ephemeral

'tis true, you know That time does flow Like mountain streams Or childhood dreams Each year comes round New treasures found Along rocky trails Or on high seas to sail Or along pathways fair With the speed of a hare Footsteps light and free Grand vistas to see And the year rolls by On wings does it fly What was, now is not And dreams come to naught Yet somewhere within Deep, secret, and hidden Lies that essence, true That is the real you Undimmed by the passage Unchanged by any message It shines like a star Glowing bright and afar And as I draw near To the one I love dear With each passing year It becomes ever more clear That to her I must steer Eyes undimmed by tears Heart devoid of fear Eyes open, like a seer For what is more precious and good and holy On this mortal coil that we call the Earth Than the day on which and Angel and Queen became lowly And entered this place through a thing we call birth Truly, I am grateful For in you In

There is a point out there A point in the distance where The sea meets the sky. And standing on the beach Looking as far as the eye can reach One can see where it lies. Along a straight line At a nexus that is so fine The two meet, but never do. Gazing at this sight Sky blue turning to white And the sea remaining the deepest blue You begin to get a feel That the universe is real And bigger than we will ever know The immensity of the sky Too much for human eyes Meets the immensity of the sea below. And there lies the deepest calm A universe held in your palm The horizon contained in your eye.

So I finished the First Circle. Again. It's maybe the 10th time I've read it... I always find it enjoyable and learn something new as well. The winding up scene of the book has some prisoners being transported in a cargo van through Moscow. These boxes are painted to look like delivery trucks, the side of which is stenciled with the words (in a couple of languages) MEAT and BREAD. This was done to mask the transport vehicles as ordinary delivery trucks, as well as to give the impression that there is plenty of meat and bread to go around. In reality, the trucks were filled with prisoners in transport, being carted off to one branch of the GULAG or another to provide essentially slave labor in terrible conditions. It seems to me that there's a symbol there. Knowing Mr. Solzhenitsyn as well as I do (read: not at all) I know he has a wry sense of humor that is subtle and clever. Yet this one is pretty obvious: human beings, their time, labor, talents, etc. are commodities

The sun came up this morning It was beautiful, bright and clear How I love the sunshine Warming my soul Filling my heart With light and peace and hope We struggle through A benighted world Things are never as clear As we would like them to be And even though the sun shines Bright in the heavens above Our feet are often entangled By earthly cares below The sun continues to shine Providing light and warmth Filling all of creation With hope and understanding

A question was asked this Sunday whilst in Sunday School about the difference between killing in war and murder. I thought it a very good question, and one that deserved more exploration than we were able to have in that forum. So, you get to read about it here. At least, here are my musings: I served in the military. Some of my training involved the utilization of various weapons. I found that I was quite proficient at it. I qualified as a sharpshooter on the M-16 rifle, which meant that I was able to put a round through a target the size of a large pumpkin from over 200 yards away with 90% accuracy. This was with only using iron sights (no scope). I also shot different kinds of weapons, including the grenade launcher, the pistol, and a AT-4 ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M136_AT4 ). While we used targets and dead machinery for our training purposes, there was always the lingering understanding that there would be people at whom I would be really shooting. And when we were trained,

Early morning is a good time (usually) to be alive. I say usually, because lately here in our neck of south east Texas, the heat and humidity have been relentless. Even in the morning the heat index is somewhere around 90 degrees. And that's unpleasant, to say the least. Ammon is getting up early for seminary. His teacher holds the class in her home, which is not far from us, so it's an easy drive to drop him off. Then I go back when it's over and pick up the kids to drop them off at school. I am then able to come in to my office and have time - like I did last year - to read scriptures on my own. I relish this time. I spend a lot of my day alone. I get phone calls and attend meetings, and I will frequently get up and walk around the office to see others. But mostly I'm alone up here. I like it. I'm not anti-social, but I enjoy quiet time. And I have plenty of that. But it's these morning times when I give myself over to the Word that my soul finds rep

Have you ever had a day A perfect, glorious day A day that lives forever In your memory Like a shimmering, sparkling Jewel, set in a deep velvety background A day like so many others And yet intensely unique The sky was the same blue The sunshine was the same But it was unlike any other Sun set in any other sky The air itself seems alive and awake Perfectly accentuating the glory Of that one, perfect day And she stands next to you With her hand in your hand With her heart in your heart And no way of knowing whose Soul belonged to whom An intense day A day filled with wonder and delight A day when the stars are visible In broad daylight When all the world feels fresh And bright and clean and pure Full of excitement and promise and JOY Perhaps it is well that every day is not As these days But I wish they were. And I could spend them with you.

She lays back Snuggling deep into the bed This glorious, radiant being Who shares my life My heart My soul When I look at her My eyes fill with tears As my heart fills with joy And wonder She's here! She's real! I do not know of universes Contained in an hourglass Or galaxies held aggregate In a drop of morning dew Of many things I remain Woefully ignorant Yet, as I contemplate her Her lasting grace and Surpassing beauty and excellence I am overcome by the knowledge That good does prevail That right will win And that all of life is Resplendent

I'm afraid we're afraid. We don't like what we don't know. We don't like what makes us uncomfortable. We don't want to have to think outside the box, to think revolutionary thoughts, to think very much at all... It is very interesting. When I see bumper stickers that say things like - everything I need to know about Islam I learned on 9/11... When I listen to people regurgitating Fox News, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, etc (guys who are admittedly just trying to make a buck, and don't really honestly believe what they are saying even as it comes out of their mouths) like they're some sort of expert... When everything becomes a frenetic and emotional appeal... When patriotism is not the last refuge of the scoundrel, but the first... When we elect politicians either because that's the best they can do, or worse, we choose the lesser of two evils (because doesn't that imply that they're both evil?)... When I hear talk about closin

The only service a friend can really render is to keep your courage by holding up to you a mirror in which you can see a noble image of yourself - George Bernard Shaw So, I've become a bit of a Doctor Who junkie. I remember the show from back in the 80s and couldn't really get into it back in the day. I don't know if it's just better now, or if I'm more mature (both?) but I really quite enjoy it. The Doctor, in his travels, finds companions. Some are more romantic, others strictly platonic. But they're always there, helping him in his loneliness and getting him unstuck if there's a jam. Plus, it's fun to see the witty banter that goes back and forth between two intimates. Donna Noble is probably my favorite companion. She's saucy. She's spunky. She's loud and brash and gorgeous. But she's also incredibly (!) sensitive and sweet. My favorite exchange is this: Donna – I kept hearing that noise... that heartbeat. The new Doctor –

What do you miss the most When your loved one is away? When she's gone away to the coast Or gone for just a day? Do you miss the sweet play Of the sunlight in her hair? Do you wish she'd always stay? Her absence more than you can bear? Does she fill your dreams so fair? This angel from above Descending nightly through the air To fill your heart with love? On silent wings, like a dove Does she in your mind find rest? Does she fit your soul, like hand in glove? Does her heart beat in your chest? And does she know just what is best? For you, and how to give With how exactly your days are blessed And how to make you live? Oh, never from me depart! You are my very soul, dear heart!

I am a huge fan of Solzhenitsyn. If you don't know who this man is, please, take some time to find out. His ideas have changed the way I view the world. Seriously. Other than Hugo and Les Mis, Solzhenitsyn and The First Circle are my favorite author/book, and they have had a profound and lasting influence on my life. In The First Circle, the protagonist is named Gleb Nerzhin. He is analogous to Solzhenitsyn and the book is therefore somewhat autobiographical. Gleb gets put through several experiences that allow him to explore and reflect on his personal stances. Confronted with the excesses he sees in the world he's thrust into, he ponders on the meaning of it all. While ostensibly an intellectual cynic, Gleb also acknowledges the virtues of self exploration, the rights and suffering of man, and (most interestingly) of love. In exploring this theme - love, and in particular, love between lovers - Solzhenitsyn has Gleb encounter two very different situations. One is with a y

Did you? Did you know how your fingers left indelible traces across my soul? That my very heart and soul and dreams and goals and desires have been shaped by you? That my ears long to hear your sweet voice? That I am not the man I was, yet I do not feel finished? There's so much more to be done... That my arms long to hold you? My eyes hunger for yours? My thoughts dwell on you, and you alone, almost incessantly? Did you know? Can you feel it? My soul has been shaped by you in the way that a master artist shapes clay. It is interesting, because I would  have thought that my soul was fully and well formed. Yet, there they are - the marks on my soul like the gentle caresses and ridges and lines left from the artist's touch. And, it seems that these ridges will now only respond to your touch. And that is fine with me. I feel unfinished. There's so much more left to do. Yet, like the clay, I await patiently the perfection that will only come, in time, from the

The silence of a sunrise The peace of an evening breeze The solace of an embrace The comfort of a gaze The knowledge of shared affection The assurance of love Faith Love Peace

So if you've read this blog for any length of time, you've come to know that I'm a struggler. I am. I struggle A LOT. I struggle with things I KNOW I shouldn't. Yet, in spite of it all, I continue to struggle. I fall down, get up, grin at how stupid I've been, then proceed to fall down immediately and in exactly the same hole. Time and time again. Eventually, though, the grin becomes a little more forced, and I get frustrated and impatient. I wish I didn't have to struggle. I know (!) that's stupid, too, though. Everyone struggles. Why should I be exempt? I am not because I should not be. Even the Savior struggled. In fact, He struggled more mightily than I am capable of understanding or enduring. Not that I am comparing myself to Him. I'm just saying - He did, too. So if I want to be like Him, shouldn't I expect some struggle? Expect? Yes. Enjoy? Not so much. I've lived long enough (dang, that sounds old) to know that life has twists

Deepest pools Of clear, blue water Dark, mysterious, inviting Calm, sweet, and still My soul, though troubled Finds solace Sustenance Sustaining and soothing Peace is not elusive It is always easily found Within the deep clear waters Of the soul In them we are cleansed In them we are quenched In them we are purified In them we are reborn

The sunlight shines bright On the little yellow flower Reflecting in form and color The sun up above The flower lies low To the ground Not proud, this one But knowing, knowing. The stem reaches upward Lifting the flower Attracting the gaze Of gardener, butterfly, and child All are pulled in And the blossom changes Closes in on itself It's purpose fulfilled The stem grows higher, longer Now full and heavy The transformation nearly complete It seeks warmth and elevation Then it opens again Not full of yellow gold this time But snowy, downy white Fine, gossamer strands They encircle the launching pad In a delicate, perfect sphere Waiting to carry the seeds To fertile ground And with the careful pluck Of a child's hand The stem is picked And brought to the lips Thus, with a gentle puff The helicopter seeds Float along, slowly drifting  To begin again

That which did seem dead Lives on, dormant and waiting For the right moment.

Stars shine bright In the darkness of the sky Like diamonds set In the deepest velvet The light has traveled For hundreds of years To reach the luminosity  In your eyes Not in them do I see reflected The starry night's sky above No reflection is required When your eyes are already Full of light But there the stars twinkle The reflection of the universe Without And within

There is a scene in The Empire Strikes Back when Yoda is instructing Luke in some of the more weighty matters of the Force. Luke, ever the impatient one, wants to know everything and NOW. Yoda, perhaps a little exasperated with the constant barrage of questions, interrupts Luke's question and says - No, no. There is no why... I often feel like Luke. I want to know everything. Further, I believe very strongly that things happen for a reason - that there is a purpose behind why things happen. I am willing to accept that some things are just random - like weather, or like weeds growing in a flower patch. There's no real import or meaning behind that. But I also believe that there are things which are significant. I also believe that if I am patient and faithful the pattern, the why? of it all will become clear. Alas, I am NOT always patient and/or as faithful as I should be. While I believe that God has a plan for us, and while I'm willing to accept that His thoughts are

come watch with me enormous towers of cottony white blazingly, blindingly white blindingly thin wispy clouds high over the sky cerulean blue contrasts darkest gray thundery poufs of ephemeral transition chimeric castles and battlements grand spanish galleons of the heavens chased by fast-moving frigates of light and cloud the clouds seem to boil and roil before your very eyes turning the work of earthly engineers into slow, graceless, and boring monstrosities grand vistas of clouds arching across the sky oh, come to me, my love and let's watch the clouds!

President Thomas S. Monson: “Let us for a moment join Captain Edward Martin and the handcart company he led. While we will not feel the pangs of hunger which he felt or experience the bitter cold that penetrated their weary bodies, we will emerge from our visit with a better appreciation of hardship borne, courage demonstrated, and faith fulfilled. We will witness with tear-filled eyes a dramatic answer to the question ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ The handcarts moved on November 3 and reached the [Sweetwater] river, filled with floating ice. To cross would require more courage and fortitude, it seemed, than human nature could muster. Women shrank back and men wept. Some pushed through, but others were unequal to the ordeal. ‘Three eighteen-year-old boys belonging to the relief party came to the rescue; and to the astonishment of all who saw, carried nearly every member of that ill-fated handcart company across the snow-bound stream. The strain was so terrible, and the exposure

I've always known I was a bit odd. Those of you who know me well will agree - there's something that's just plain different about me. I spent the last several days of my life in Arizona being tested to see if I was a good match for my sister's kidney needs. While I am in fairly good health, and while I don't have any personal concerns regarding my kidneys, I have multiple arteries that feed each kidney, which means that I'm not a good match for my sister. This was disappointing to say the least. So I guess I get to keep my kidneys. For now. On a positive note, it was nice to spend time with my family. They are good people, and I miss being in the area.

LANCELOT: Camelot! Camelot! In far-off France I heard your call. Camelot! Camelot! And here am I to give my all. I know in my soul what you expect of me, And all that and more I shall be. A knight of the Table Round should be invincible, Suceed where a less fantastic man would fail. Climb a wall no one else can climb, Cleave a dragon in record time, Swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail. No matter the pain, he ought to be unwinceable, Impossible deeds should be his daily fare. But where in the world Is there in the world A man so *extraordinaire*? C'est moi! C'est moi, I'm forced to admit. 'Tis I, I humbly reply. That mortal who These marvels can do, C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I. I've never lost In battle or game; I'm simply the best by far. When swords are crossed 'Tis always the same: One blow and au revoir! C'est moi! C'est moi! So adm'rably fit! A French Prometheus

The darkness of night Vanishes before her light There, I live again

People say that True Love (Always spoken with capital letters, like that... Like it's a proper noun... it's not) Is finding the one person on earth With whom you can spend The rest of eternity And while I like that (It's terribly romantic And I am terribly romantic, myself...) I think it's missing the point True love is being free True love is allowing yourself to love Freely and without reservation True love has more to do with you Yourself Than it does with anyone else True love The truest, purest kind of love Is that which comes from within From that secret, sacred well spring Of hopes and desires From that place that is uniquely YOU And reaches with gossamer tendrils Shimmering, golden, and pure To touch another And then - miracle of miracles! Your golden thread touches The thread of another And your threads resonate and rebound and Pulsate with joy and peace and awe At knowing Truly, really knowing Another person

Roll the bones! came the cry From the crowd around the table Try your luck! Try it out! See what life will give you! So he tossed the dice And the cubes rolled down Across fields of green Tumbling, spinning, bouncing Seven! the barker cried Lucky seven! Who's got seven? Who is the winner? The man looked down And turned from the table For he had placed his money On four.

No night lasts forever No darkness vanquishes the light Though dawn comes slowly The sky becomes bright There is no mind so darkened So full of hate and fear That cannot receive the truth When whispered in heart and ear There is no sin so black So dirty and so vile That cannot be made clean And become as one undefiled The love shines bright Like the noon day sun It reaches us all No matter what we've done His grace and mercy are perfect And attend to those who seek All it takes is reaching out His strength will succor the weak And as we struggle here below Our heads and hearts can be lit With the fire that comes from on high If our hearts and our hands in His fit For all this, His anger is not turned away But His hand is stretched out still.

So it's time I confessed to something: I really like Harry Potter. But it's maybe not for the reason you'd expect. Yes, I like the story line. I like the character development and the way the thread of the story arc traces through all the books. I like the characters themselves, and I like how she makes them real and emotionally engaging. It's not really high brow stuff, but it's clever and well written, and above all - entertaining. A book should always be entertaining. But what I really, really like are the clever allusions to other historical/mythical figures. This is the very warp and weft of the story line, and these inclusions add incredible depth to the quality of the story. Here are a few of the fun things I've noticed: 1. Albus - the name of the Headmaster. Usually referred to as Dumbledore, I find it intriguing that Albus comes from the Latin for white, shining, or lustrous. 2. Sirius - Sirius is the dog star. Sirius Black is the godfather o

Land stretched below his feet Cliff face, broken and craggy Stands like a solid barrier Hundreds of feet it drops away Stones the size of houses, of buses Tumble like so many pebbles Trapped in time In the scree at the base of the cliff Fantastic, impossible colors Red and orange and purple and white and yellow Rust and watermelon and cotton candy and seashell He sees this all His eyes scintillated The sunlight sparkles on a million Reflective Facets glistening in the sun At the bottom, at the base The land begins again Reaching out in a desert hard pan Alkali flat Sagebrush and Juniper and Pinon On and on The wind whistles in his ears In the dusky predawn light His soul, like the expanse of the land Like the expanse of the sky Leaves his body But remains tethered Like his feet remain on the ground As his spirit soars With the red tailed hawk Circling

They call it gumbo here This soil  Which squishes between your toes Which sticks To the bottom of your shoes In varied thick layers You kick it off your feet As you walk But it comes right back This rich, heavy dirt So fertile And so pungent Like rotting Yet also like living Decomposition And reconstruction You like to feel the clayey soil Sticking to your feet It reminds you of  Your origins And your ultimate destination For from the earth we came And to the earth we go It is good for us to remember As we walk around That we are really Just part of the earth

I like cars. I know, it's kind of unnecessary to say, since I'm an American dude. But I do - I love cars. That being said, I have a bit of a confession - I drive a Kia. And I really, really like it. Like, a lot. I'm a big dude. I'm 6'2" and I weigh 100kg. (I like saying it in kilograms because it makes it sound less, somehow...) ;) Although, when I lose weight, it doesn't sound as dramatic to say I lost 5 kilos... Much more dramatic to say I lost 10 pounds... But I digress. As a big dude, I find the trend towards smaller cars a mixed blessing. I really, really like the increased fuel efficiency and relative zippiness of smaller cars - especially when it comes to short-haul driving, inner-city maneuvering, and parking lot negotiation. Even on a longer road trip, the more fuel efficient car makes much more sense as you save so much money in fuel costs... The problem I have is that I'm long legged. I have a 36" inseam. Which means that my

My love's eyes shine With starry-eyed mirth Her footsteps, sublime, Seem not to touch the earth Angels have their wings Shedding their grace Voices celestial sing Filling the immensity of space Yet my love, angelic Does not soar so high She leaves worlds idyllic And deigns to stay so nigh She thinks she is unworthy Of adulation plain Yet to me, she seems unworldly Descended from a heavenly plane And in her glance I feel Renewed by strength unmeasured Her touch my heart doth heal By her smile I am so pleasured Forever thus were two hearts one And thus are you, my glorious Sun

One day we will all wake up and realize we are not many races, but one. I've recently had some discussions with someone who is close to me. This is someone who is intelligent, talented, driven, and professional. Yet this person is also quite racist. It's interesting, because this person belongs to what might be called a minority race anyway. This person's assumptions and generalizations based on other's ethnic or racial profiles are nonetheless pronounced and disturbing. And I'm not quite sure what to do about it. I grew up in a home where race was not discussed. It was a non-issue. People whose biological or genetic make up made them look different from me was of no concern whatsoever. One may be aware of such differences, but these differences and this awareness was something very mild, like noticing the difference in the shapes of leaves, or the way different clouds form shapes against the blue sky. One was not superior or inferior. There were no value judg