The Sublime Roundabout

What the world craves most, both on a global scale, as well as in the deepest reaches of every heart, is peace. A world filled with stress. With violence. With greed and want and hate. Lives torn apart by war and anger and fear. Into this world, and into each life, enters the Prince of Peace. He lifts our sorrows, for He is acquainted with grief. He extends mercy, for He is mighty to save. He loves without ceasing, for He knows what it's like to feel alone. He loves even me, though I am unworthy. He is the real Gift of Christmas. The Gift of the Father to the world. To His children. To you. And to me. O come, O come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel, That mourns in lonely exile here Until the Son of God appear. Refrain Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel. O come, Thou Wisdom from on high, Who orderest all things mightily; To us the path of knowledge show, And teach us in her ways to go. Refrain O come,

The other day I got to shuck 20 fresh oysters. They were still in their shells. These shells are ugly, misshapen things, gray, jagged, and hard as rocks. They look like this for defense, of course, and their shells are impenetrable. Even these ones, though they'd been out of the sea for unknown hours, were still alive. You could tell by the way they held on to their safe, rocky cocoon that they were loath to come out. But I was not to be deterred. I grabbed my trusty screwdriver and probed around the edge for a place where I could slip it between the halves of the shell and pry it open. It wasn't easy. Just finding a good spot to start applying leverage was a challenge. And then, just getting it started required a significant effort. The work had just begun, though. Cracking them open a little wasn't enough. It allowed my screwdriver to get in easier as I moved around the shell, gently but firmly prying it open. Carefully, avoiding the precious insides, I was able to

It starts somewhere near my stomach An emptiness Black. Cold. Dark. But darkness that sucks light A coldness that removes heat A blackness that defies the bright It moves up to my heart Fear. Pain. Sorrow. It squeezes my heart with an icy grip A spectral hand bound by iron gauntlets Binding my heart with iron straps Constricting. Then it moves to my throat Choking me. I can't breathe. But I find I don't care. Because I don't really want to live. The pressure builds, climbs Until it leaks out my eyes. Hot. Angry. Furious. Trickling down my cheeks unchecked Into my beard. Or into my pillow. Is there no balm in Gilead?

I'd forgotten several things about living in the colder climes: 1. How much I love it. It's incredibly lovely to watch snow accumulate on the world, to see how clean and bright the world looks after a new snow. How the sky gets bright with the reflected glow from the city lights onto the lowering clouds above. How there's a hush and stillness to the world, yet reverberating with an excitement and energy lying just below the surface. How the cold air feels on your face, filling your lungs. Making the first footprints on a fresh stretch of snow. 2. The need for a coat is all pervasive. You just can't go out without one. I've walked to and from work a couple of times, and the coat is very essential. Fortunately I have some good ones. So I'm good. 3. I am fortunate to have a warm, cozy place to hole up. I see folks on the street and I wonder how they spend their time, where they go to escape the cold. I've been places where I didn't have the opti

I recently attended an art crawl sponsored by our local community. They do this every first Friday of the month, and apparently it's very well attended. The weather here in the Pacific Northwest has turned cool and damp, which means that it's not as well attended as it is when it's warmer. But there were still plenty of people walking about and enjoying the evening. I went with a couple of friends, and one of them and I stopped in front of a particular piece of art. I forget which, and it's kind of irrelevant. But I asked her - what do you think of this piece? She said she didn't like it. I pursued - what is it about this piece that you don't like? She said she wasn't sure, but that she just didn't like it. She was obviously a little uncomfortable and worried about sounding silly or being offensive. I pointed out that the artist was 40 years in her grave, and wouldn't be offended. I also encouraged her to share what she felt as a result of lookin

So today's Google doodle is about those ink blot test images. It is interesting to me to consider these things, because it would appear that there is much about the human condition that remains a mystery. For example, the cards may be rotated 90 degrees, at which point something completely different may appear. The question is, why does anything appear at all? Our brains would appear to be conditioned to look for the familiar in what we see. We look for faces in clouds, we see horse heads in nebulae, and we see the Virgin Mary in a tortilla chip. In a way, it's comforting I guess to see patterns in the world around us. It helps us make sense of things. It helps us cope with the vast amount of information that is constantly (!) entering our minds. But the human condition is one that is inherently complex. The complexity is wonderful, beautiful, and absolutely essential. With over 7.2 billion of us here on this planet, we can rest assured that there are people who are similar

This one was just as vivid as the one the other night. I was touring somewhere in Europe. At least, it felt like Europe, but it was someplace I'd never been. I was visiting some ancient and glorious structure, surrounded by the inevitable throngs. But this was a place that had been sacred at one time. In my dream, it had been downgraded to a museum, a destination, a peculiarity, a tourist trap. That kind of thing. It was grand, with large halls and high ceilings. Marble was everywhere, in tones of deep rusty red shot through with white veins and pale blush pink streaked with brown. Great statues proclaimed the Passion, moving for their colossal scale as well as their incredible detail. At the center, at the focus of worship, was a Pieta. For those unfamiliar with a Pieta - and there are several - it is a statue based on the moment when Christ's body is taken down from the cross. She, the mother of the Lord, is having a very intimate moment with the lifeless body of her so

no matter how long the winter, the spring is sure to follow. Always. - Lara Preston Neves

I woke myself up crying last night. I had an interesting dream. In the first portion of the dream, I was being pursued by a man with a large blade who was trying to kill me. Somehow, my mother was there, but she was powerless to do anything against this man. I was unarmed, and I offered no resistance. He first cut my leg just above my knee - a cut that was very deep and painful, but with surprisingly little blood. Then he cut my wrist - just above the back of my hand. Again, surprisingly little blood. Then he pushed me to the ground and pushed the blade into my neck. Slowly, tortuously. It was awful. While I couldn't feel pain any more, I could feel it slicing into my sinews and severing the very life from me. My mother was distraught, but again, could do nothing. I didn't blame her. I felt no regret at all, except for the soul of the man who would kill an unarmed person who offered no resistance. The man who was killing me was also unwittingly killing himself, too. Becau

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham: A good soft pillow for that good white head Were better than a churlish turf of France. ERPINGHAM Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better, Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.' KING HENRY V 'Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example; so the spirit is eased: And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt, The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move, With casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp; Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them an to my pavilion. GLOUCESTER We shall, my liege. ERPINGHAM Shall I attend your grace? KING HENRY V No, my good knight; Go with my brothers to my lords of England: I and my bosom must debate awhile, And then I would no other company. ERPINGHAM The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry! ........ KING HENRY V

There is a connection between things unseen and things that are tangible. Just because something is unseen does not make it any less real.  We are creatures of spirit clothed - loosely, even - in a physical form. And yet, so often we neglect what is true and real inside of us in pursuit of that which will ultimately die.  We cannot know all things. But we can still walk in the light.  There will always be critics. Naysayers. Detractors. Those who want you to wake up to their version of reality. These folks should be respected and listened to, but their motives should be questioned. And never, under any circumstance, should one stop dreaming or abandon hope. Well did Dante inscribe above the doors of Hell - Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Love me some Halloween

As promised, here are the top 10 things I am going to miss about Texas: 1. The people. Texas, for those of you who don't know, is the single most welcoming place I have ever lived. People are warm and genuine and sincere. They accept people as they are and have the biggest hearts of any place I've ever been. It breaks my heart to think of the incredible people I've come to know and love and will have to leave behind. 2. The weather. I know, I complained about it in my last post, but just as mercurial as my attitude is, the weather in Texas is just as changeable. And it's lovely. Just this morning my drive in to work was graced by misty fog banks with beautiful early morning sunrays bursting from behind the loblollies. The sky is wide and high, and the low clouds rolling in off the Gulf are just breathtaking. 3. The environment. Yes, there are mosquitoes. But other than that, it's absolutely gorgeous here. The southeast Texas swampy areas are just so incredibly

I'm a bit cranky this morning. So I've decided to write the top ten reasons why I'm glad to be leaving Texas: 1. Ted Cruz, Ron Paul, and Rick Perry. I almost feel like I don't need to elaborate on this. I will be happy to get someplace where the folks who represent me nationally and in the state are more closely aligned with rational, coherent, intelligent thought. 2. Mosquitoes. I went to my daughter's open house last night and got five mosquito bites. Five. Indoors. No me gusta. There are mosquitoes all year round here. 3. Hurricanes. Yeah, perhaps this doesn't need any explanation either. This year has been light, but that doesn't mean it hasn't been worrisome. 4. Food. This may sound weird, because southern cooking is typically associated with comfort and satiety. Six years of southern cooking is too much, though. I need a salad. 5. Heat. It starts getting hot here around Valentine's Day. It stays hot until Veteran's Day. You just s

So, I heard that yesterday out genius Republican Congressional folks passed a measure that would cut Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (AKA Food Stamps) by $4 Billion. Um, what?!? Because now poor people don't need to eat? Or, there are those who are poor but are not really THAT poor, so they don't deserve to eat? I'm confused. This program is PERFECT. There is nothing wrong with providing people with food. The purpose of providing people with food (as opposed to with just cash) is that they HAVE to use this kind of thing FOR FOOD. Sure, they can then use the rest to buy ammunition to rob banks, build rockets to the moon, and otherwise complete their nefarious desires to wreak mayhem and devastation on the hard-working taxpayers of America. I'm so sick of the silly arguments about SNAP. People who have never been poor should not judge those who are. People who have been poor should show more empathy. And people who claim to be Christian, who claim the

It starts with friction Abrasion Striking a flint Against a harder substance Scratching the match head Across a rough, hard place The spark is lit Glowing, hot, and full of potential It spreads quickly Turning that which seemed solid Into plasma Light escapes The flame burns A candle is lit All the darkness In the world Cannot extinguish the Light From one candle But the wind buffets And the flame flickers Gutters And dies down low. But then a twin flame arrives A flame to share the heat To brighten To warm To strengthen To share And the flame glows bright again Brighter, even, than before Because the flame is not alone Sharing the light With the twin flame

We read as a family last night about the Savior's visit to the people near the temple in Bountiful, shortly after his resurrection. It never ceases to bring tears to my eyes, no matter how many times I've read it. The Savior of the world, the Light and the Life, the Great Master of the Universe, humbly taking a child and placing his mighty hands on the tender head and giving blessing... Each of the children received a blessing. One by one. The Master spoke to them, spoke to the Father in their behalf, and tenderly wept as He did so. He was mighty, but He was lowly. And He loved (loves!) the little children. We read in the Book of Mormon Institute Manual the following quote: Church members in Chile had a similar experience when President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) visited them: “One of the greatest expressions of love for children that I have seen occurred when I was serving as a stake president in Chile. President Spencer W. Kimball visited Chile for an area confer

So I wrote in that last post about Rand and how he's changed. Well, the change was immediate and dramatic. His changed nature is highlighted in the follow-up to the scene with his father. In the follow up, Rand is amongst his friends and they're all marveling at the change that had taken place. Across the room, Rand sees his father. Rand runs to him, his eyes full of fear, regret, and shame for what he's done, and where he's been. He puts his arms around his father and weeps. His father lovingly says that he doesn't blame him for doing what had to be done, and says that everyone stumbles on their way to greatness. It doesn't absolve Rand from the responsibility he bears for the mistakes he's made, but his father does not condemn him for them. What seems to be more important - for everyone - is what they've learned from their past, and how they use that information to guide their future. And I was reminded of John 3:16-17: 16 ¶For God so loved t

So for the past several months I've been reading this series called The Wheel of Time. It's pretty good - lengthy, and nearly impossible to get through at times (can be boring), but still enjoyable. I'm getting towards the end, and it's really reaching the climax. The main character is a young man by the name of Rand al'Thor, who is raised as a sheep herder/farmer, but later comes to understand his destiny. He is the Dragon Reborn, and as such, must face off against the evil forces of the Dark One. Where I'm at in the series, he's tried to unite all the peoples in his world in an effort to rally the forces against the Last Battle, where he alone must take on the Dark One. It is strongly hinted at, both in various prophecies as well as his own dogged determination, that Rand will not survive the Last Battle, but must die to overcome the Dark One. Throughout the series, there is the symbol of a great weaving wheel, the Wheel of Time. It's a wheel, rather

Yesterday on my way home, I heard this: http://www.npr.org/2013/09/03/218627288/why-being-wealthy-doesnt-lead-to-more-giving (Transcript follows:) Patricia Greenfield has tracked families in Chiapas, Mexico, over four decades. Many were very poor when she started her study. Slowly, over time, they grew wealthier. Along the way, Greenfield noticed something: As the people she followed grew richer, they became more individualistic. Community ties frayed and weakened. Greenfield expanded her findings to form a more general theory about the effects that wealth has on people: "We become more individualistic, less family and community oriented." In a new study, the UCLA researcher makes the argument that the same thing has happened in the U.S. over a longer period. Greenfield bases her finding on an analysis she conducted of more than 1 million books published in the U.S. between 1800 and 2000. Greenfield used the Google Ngram viewer, a tool that allows rapid

You know, real life doesn't just suddenly resolve itself. You have to keep working at it. Democracy, marriage, friendship. You can't just say, 'She's my best friend.' That's not a given, it's a process. Viggo Mortensen

I was a good kid I wouldn't do you no harm I was a nice kid With a nice paper round Forgive me any pain I may have brung to you With God's help I know I'll always be near to you But Jesus hurt me When he deserted me, but I have forgiven Jesus For all the desire He placed in me when there's nothing I can do With this desire  I was a good kid Through hail and snow I'd go Just to moon you I carried my heart in my hand Do you understand? Do you understand? But Jesus hurt me When he deserted me, but I have forgiven Jesus For all of the love He placed in me When there's no-one I can turn to with this love  Monday - humiliation  Tuesday - suffocation  Wednesday - condescension  Thursday - is pathetic  By Friday life has killed me  By Friday life has killed me  (Oh pretty one, Oh pretty one) Why did you give me So much desire? When there is nowhere I can go To offload this desire And why did you give me So much love In a lovele

Fifty years of dreaming. We're not where we want to be, but we're getting there. Thank you for the inspiration, Dr. King.

I've been following with some interest the events taking place in Syria. I don't like the way things are shaping up. It was easier to understand before the chemical weapons were used. Now, it's gone to a whole new and unpleasant level. Not that war is ever pleasant, mind. But weapons of mass destruction? The use of those kinds of weapons is just beyond the pale. I know. The US dropped the bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I know about the incendiary bombs used in WWII and subsequent conflicts. I know about the Agent Orange and napalm and all the rest. I also know that the US is one of the few countries on earth that still hasn't signed the landmine treaty. I also acknowledge the fact that a couple of young men piloting a drone from thousands of miles away can deliver weapons on target in a way that jeopardizes only the targets (and those unfortunates who happen to be in the area). That last one bothers me in a way that none of the rest do, frankly. There's just some

The reduction of the universe to the compass of a single being, and the extension of a single being until it reaches God - that is love. Love is the salute of the angels to the stars. How sad the heart is when the rendered sad by love! How great is the void created by the absence of the being who alone fills the world. How true it is that the beloved becomes God. It is understandable that God would grow jealous if the Father of All Things had not so evidently created all things for the soul, and the soul for love. It needs no more than a smile, glimpsed beneath a hat of white crepe adorned with lilac, for the soul to be transported into the palace of dreams. God is behind all things, but all things conceal God. Objects are black and human creatures are opaque. To love a person is to render them transparent. There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees. Separated lovers cheat absence by a thousand

1 (A Psalm of David.) The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. Psalm 23

I hear the drizzle of the rain Like a memory it falls Soft and warm continuing Tapping on my roof and walls. And from the shelter of my mind Through the window of my eyes I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets To England where my heart lies. My mind's distracted and diffused My thoughts are many miles away They lie with you when you're asleep And kiss you when you start your day. And as a song I was writing is left undone I don't know why I spend my time Writing songs I can't believe With words that tear and strain to rhyme. And so you see I have come to doubt All that I once held as true I stand alone without beliefs The only truth I know is you. And as I watch the drops of rain Weave their weary paths and die I know that I am like the rain There but for the grace of you go I. - Paul Simon I lay in bed, awake. Tears stream unchecked across my cheeks, down through unshaven stubble and onto my pillow. I weep silently, full of pain and so

“...Nobody knows like a woman how to say things that are both sweet and profound. Sweetness and depth, this is all of woman; this is Heaven.”  - Victor Hugo

Numbers are interesting. Here are some fun number facts related to my life: 10-29-1974. My birthday. I was born 7 weeks early. My mother was in labor with me for 36 hours, which is more time than the doctor gave me to live. I'm now into my 38th year; I have lived 14,175 days as of today. I am 2 of seven children, 1 of 4 brothers, and I have 3 sisters. 1992. The year I graduated from high school. I was 17 years old. 2 weeks later I entered boot camp in San Diego. My company number was 053. I was there a total of 9 weeks. While I was there, there was an earthquake that measured 7.3. It happened just before 5 AM on Sunday morning. There were 69 other men in my boot camp company. My boot camp number was 12. 12 was also the number of the apartment Youngshin and I lived in when we were in Michigan. 1996 is the year I got married. 1997 is the year Ammon was born. He just turned 16. 2002 was the year Elise was born. She just turned 11. Youngshin was born in 1966, although her birth

What is love, she asked. How do you know? Is it a feeling? An action? A surrender? A victory? Is it hope? Is it a struggle? Does it prompt or motivate? Is it found in the breathless kiss in the night? Is it in the hand held alongside the deathbed?  In the daily struggle for survival? Is it something you feel alone? Or is it something you can only feel together? He just smiled and looked in her eyes And said I love you.

I have many things coming up in my life, things of importance and significance. Some of them affect only me, while others affect the people I love most. I don't have a crystal ball or goat entrails to catch glimpses of the future. All I have to go by is my past experience and my hopes for the future. My career is on the verge of taking a potentially interesting turn, both geographically and with regard to promotion and advancement. I don't like change any more than the next person. I like to feel comfortable in my surroundings, my position, my life. I like feeling secure and stable and in control.  And yet... and yet...... Control is seldom more than an illusion anyway. Suppose I were in a car accident on my way home this evening... paralyzed and infirm forever. (God forbid). How would that change the way I live? How would I react? What would I do differently? What would my priorities be then? Things that were once so concrete and simple would instantly and irrevocably beco

Sunlight Darkness Mercy Justice Health Sickness Close Distant Warm Cold Passion Apathy Until death do us part For time and all eternity Despair Hope

I love you I want you I need you You are for me And I am for you Words I long to hear Words I long to say Whispered Like golden tendrils From the heart From the soul

"We need not say to you that the floodgates of our hearts were lifted and our eyes were a fountain of tears, but those who have not been enclosed in the walls of prison without cause or provocation, can have but little idea how sweet the voice of a friend is; one token of friendship from any source whatever awakens and calls into action every sympathetic feeling . . . until finally all enmity, malice and hatred, and past differences, misunderstandings and mismanagements are slain victorious at the feet of hope; and when the heart is sufficiently contrite, then the voice of inspiration steals along and whispers, 'My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.'" - Joseph Smith

This is one of my all time favorite Beatles charts. Paul sounds great on this, very much like he would through the 70s with Wings. It's also reminiscent of his work on other love ballads, like Yesterday, Hey Jude, Let It Be, etc. He's great at the emotional connection. I've also linked an Alison Krauss cover, because I think it's lovely.

There are a few drawbacks to living in southeast Texas. Among the more significant includes hurricane season. No me gusta.  I have the National Hurricane Center website bookmarked - have for years - and I am a bit obsessive about it. Of course, it's all in the name of keeping myself prepared for the eventual/inevitable. But it's nerve racking.  http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/gtwo_atl.shtml  Right now there are a couple of areas of interest, one in the Caribbean and one out off the coast of Africa. The one in the Caribbean is headed north west towards the Yucatan Peninsula and then into the Bay of Campeche. After that it's still too early to tell. The waters in the Gulf are very warm - nearly 90 degrees (!) - so it would appear conducive to storm formation. The one off the coast of Africa is at least a week and a half away, and therefore more susceptible to turns to the north out over the open Atlantic. The high pressure ridge that forms over the Atlantic this time of yea

The coldest dark night Though desperately long and lone Yields to the new dawn

Sometimes there's nothing better than a little butt rock. Thanks, Metallica.

com·ple·men·ta·ry adjective \ˌkäm-plə-ˈmen-t(ə-)rē\  Definition of COMPLEMENTARY 1 : relating to or constituting one of a pair of contrasting colors that produce a neutral color when combined in suitable proportions 2 : serving to fill out or complete 3 : mutually supplying each other's lack Sapphire and rose gold Deepest azure blue and the sun's blazing corona Royal blue and vibrant orange Blueberries and golden honey Blue jeans and a bright yellow shirt Deep oceans draped with golden morning clouds Velvety blue-black of night while glowing sparks float up from firelight Me. And You.

She really is the most beautiful thing in the world.

Yep.

I do this silly online poll thing. It's completely random, but I enjoy it. The website is correlated.org, if you'd like to check it out. The premise is that they ask random questions and then draw correlations between what you've answered in the past and what you've answered to the current poll. The thing is fraught with interesting poll-taking issues, but it's never purported to be anything other than silly random fun. Take today's poll for example: In general, 41 percent of people say they'd rather have a flamingo than a giraffe as their wisecracking sidekick in an otherwise realistic movie about their life. But among those who dislike cotton candy, 55 percent would rather have a flamingo. Based on a survey of 111 people who don't like cotton candy and 364 people total. I mean, yeah. Totally random. But silly and fun... One of the other things they allow you to do - if you're a geek and have been around for a while doing these polls, like

It's a dark and stormy evening here in southeast Texas. I don't like storms. They are harsh and threatening and frightening. And they are out of control. And, like most people, I crave a modicum of control.

Life is... um... interesting. You find out quickly who your friends are when you have hard things to go through. Those who stand by you, those who love you - in spite of you... Those who walk in when everyone else walks out. And those who give you space when you need it, too. Our new dog Martha has been sick. It's not clear how it's happening, but her skin has become very irritated and painful. She's been to the doctor and has had it checked out. Now we just need to give her some time to heal. It's painful to know how much she's hurting, and not be able to do anything about it. It takes time, and soon she will be right as rain. But in the mean time, my heart still hurts for her. Asking for space from those who are concerned about you is a difficult thing, too. We are problem-solvers, in general, and we like to think that we can help others we love to be happy. In general, this is true - we need each other to buoy our spirits, to provide that synergistic stre