The Sublime Roundabout

Today in Sunday school the lesson was on Job. I can't ever remember struggling so hard in a lesson. I sat in the room and listened to people give answers to some of the most difficult questions in life. And it really, really bothered me. The responses seemed so rote, so practiced and polished and ... I don't know. I wanted to say unfeeling but I think that's a bit disingenuous. Surely people feel these things. And surely people have gone through difficult times. And just as surely everyone is affected by circumstances differently. We all struggle with things, and we all struggle in our own way. The tragedies and losses and reversals of Job were awful. Some would undoubtedly be more affected by different losses than others. For me, the biggest and hardest would be the perfidy of Job's wife. To break faith with someone, to abandon them when all else was going south, to implore him to curse God and die... That would be the worst. I'm not sure how I would handle t

So I'm a dude. I mostly like that I'm a dude. It's pretty good. But there are times when I just don't get the other folks who also have the y-chromosome. Read this today; http://hannahhurtful.tumblr.com/post/96022836517/mediamattersforamerica-let-men-be-men-fox First off, why is Fox News still broadcasting?!? Are there really that many neo-conservative conspiracy-theory believing nutjobs out there? Apparently the answer is yes. (Shudder) (Literally) I can't believe this is an issue. I. Just. Can't. Believe. It. I mean, I know it is. But I can't believe that people are so stupid. It just is beyond anything I can even accept as  real. Come on folks. Objectifying women is not acceptable. It's just not. Stop it. Really.

This reminds me of someone. And her love. SONNET 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.    If this be error and upon me proved,    I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

As a professional planner, I am concerned with many issues surrounding land use, development, and housing. This morning I heard a program on NPR (The Diane Rehm Show, for those who might be interested) where the current status of housing in the United States was discussed. While the economy appears to be on the mend, and the housing market has stabilized significantly since 2007-2009, there remain real and persistent concerns with access to adequate, affordable housing. Part of the problem is regional in nature. "Affordable" means different things in different places. What the government usually uses to determine what is "affordable" relates to the average cost of housing compared to average income. The percentage typically used is 33%, or 1/3, of one's income is to be utilized for housing costs. So if you earned (take home) $3000 per month, the threshold for afford of what you could feasibly pay is $1000. Anything more than that is considered not affordable.

Would you go someplace like this? I think I would. Creepy, but beautiful, too... http://memolition.com/2014/08/27/the-macabre-sculptures-within-the-bone-church/

Sometimes I envy Dumbledore his pensieve. I wish I could off load some of the beans rattling around in my brain. I wish I could.

This is one of my favorites. It's over 125 years old, and you can still feel the angst... Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888 Ernest Thayer The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville Nine that day; The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play, And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that – They'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat. But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a lulu and the latter was a fake So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat. But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, the much despised,

I found this interesting. Depression is very (!) misunderstood, and there's a lot of stigma associated with it. Someone I know once said that when people struggle with a physical ailment, there is a lot of rallying around that person to support and offer help. But if someone is suffering from a mental disorder or an emotional disorder, they're often shunned, and almost always misunderstood. The video explains that there are many aspects to depression - both biological and emotional, and that it's complexity defies simple, pat answers. And while I applaud the video for bringing attention to these kinds of things, I also wonder about trying to place too much emphasis on the biology or physical side of depression. It seems like it might be an effort to have it gain acceptance, just like any other physical ailment. In reality, I feel that we need more acceptance and understanding of everyone, with any kind of disorder or malady. We all struggle, and we all rely on each other

Saturday the boy and I drove down to Calf Creek. Here's a pic (or two) of the lad: Ammon is a great kid. He humors his old man in ways that are miraculous and ridiculous, all at the same time. We have a great relationship, one where we can share a lot of what's in us. On Saturday, we shared a long drive and a decent hike. It was six miles, round trip, and the falls were absolutely gorgeous. Ammon wanted to get back to cell phone land, though. He's got a bit of a new flame, and wanted to get back to texting. Bless. But for a short time, while hiking, I had just my boy. And it was awesome. It made me understand the importance of having someone with whom to share - both for him, and for me. It also made me understand that as much as he is like me, and as much as he truly likes me, he's my son, and he's from a different planet than the one I grew up in, and he doesn't really know me - the real me. He can't. And it's OK.  But I long for

I love you She said He wanted to believe her Could he Should he She seemed sincere And she was incredibly beautiful The most beautiful thing He had ever known But. She loved him not as he Needed To be loved I love you She said But only in the way I can Only in the way I want to love you And while he did believe her Each time she said it It was like a knife Red hot Cauterizing his heart Cutting his soul Leaving him half dead And in pain I love you She said But he wished she wouldn't

What is a woman’s place in this modern world? I rebel against this question, though so many of my peers ask it. The inherent bias in the inquiry seems invisible to so many of them. They consider themselves progressive because they are willing to challenge many of the assumptions of the past. They ignore the greater assumption—that a “place” for women must be defined and set forth to begin with. Half of the population must somehow be reduced to the role arrived at by a single conversation. No matter how broad that role is, it will be—by nature—a reduction from the infinite variety that is womanhood. I say that there is no role for women—there is, instead, a role for each woman, and she must make it for herself. For some, it will be the role of scholar; for others, it will be the role of wife. For others, it will be both. For yet others, it will be neither. Do not mistake me in assuming I value one woman’s role above another. My point is not to stratify our society—we have done that f

“The messenger whispered. “Two blind men waited at the end of an era, contemplating beauty. They sat atop the world’s highest cliff, overlooking the land and seeing nothing.” “Huh?” She looked to him. “‘Can beauty be taken from a man?’ the first asked the second. “‘It was taken from me,’ the second replied. ‘For I cannot remember it.’ This man was blinded in a childhood accident. ‘I pray to the God Beyond each night to restore my sight, so that I may find beauty again.’ “‘Is beauty something one must see, then?’ the first asked. “‘Of course. That is its nature. How can you appreciate a work of art without seeing it?’ “‘I can hear a work of music,’ the first said. “‘Very well, you can hear some kinds of beauty—but you cannot know full beauty without sight. You can know only a small portion of beauty.’ “‘A sculpture,’ the first said. ‘Can I not feel its curves and slopes, the touch of the chisel that transformed common rock into uncommon wonder?’ “‘I suppose,’ said the second, ‘

What if love really is all we need? Imagine...

I was deeply saddened to hear of the loss of Robin Williams. I can hardly remember a time in my life when I didn't enjoy his talents, from Mork and Mindy to Popeye, to guest appearances on the Muppet Show and Sesame Street, to more serious themes like Mrs. Doubtfire, Good Will Hunting, Good Morning Vietnam, Patch Adams, and Dead Poets Society. It is difficult to think of a more versatile, entertaining, and thought-provoking actor. He influenced many in his work. And like many artists, he had a troubled side. While we don't know all the details (details being largely irrelevant to us outsiders, anyway), we do know he struggled with substance abuse and depression most of his life. In the same way that people who are physically well cannot relate to people who are sick, we who have not experienced depression cannot know what it's like. There's just no common frame of reference. It may be easy for us to say that suicide is beyond the pale, but it is really not for us to j

So I'm in the shower this morning, and I go to reach for my razor. It's on the little shelf near the handle, about shoulder height, and I can usually grope for it with my eyes closed - I use the shampoo lather to shave with. Unbeknownst to me, my wife had put her razor on the shelf. She usually leaves it by the tub. Not a big deal, because I knew instantly which one was mine. Mine looks like this: While my wife's looks like this: Sparkles, of course, are included. Even the names of the respective products are interesting: men get a MACH 3, and women get a Soleil. Men's razors are black, chrome, dark gray, etc. Women's razors are white, pink, sparkly, etc. I started wondering about who makes these decisions, and why. Someone clearly thought - men want a manly, straight, thin, MACH 3 razor, while women want a curvy, gel-coated, plastic, bright Soleil razor. And they make a million of them, and sell them to the respective markets. But, why? Then I started

So, recently my daughter has been a little concerned about the Second Coming. Particularly, she's been concerned about some of the prophesied devastation and destruction that will precede the Second Coming. It's been an interesting conversation topic. On one hand, I don't want her to disregard the prophesy. It's important that, as believers, we remain prepared for something we've been hoping for for generations. And in such preparation - both temporally and spiritually - we find satisfaction, joy, and comfort. These are all important and valuable things. But on the other hand, the Second Coming is an event that we need not necessarily concern ourselves overmuch with. It's kind of like death - while we are alive, death does not exist for us, and when it does come to us, we are beyond caring about it, anyway. The Second Coming could be soon or in a very distant future, but death is inevitable for us all. Death could also be very soon or in a distant future,

Truth is a precious commodity. We look for it in words, in actions, and in relationships. It is rare and beautiful and desirable. Like the constant face of a friend, truthfulness, faithfulness, and loyalty are without compare and without price. Because these values are so precious, one should hold on to it when one has it. Otherwise life is vain, colorless, unhappy, and dismal. Trust me. I know. Polonius: This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man...