The Sublime Roundabout

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