Under the blue, we breathe the springing onset. New has arrived, and we miss what we’ve met. Songs of the season– the rustling of tree. The voices of organic life. The sorrow we see. Sun shines on opportunity– our lighted ambitions. Darkness hides our intent– impeded positions. Standing firmly in the rays of exuberant determination, under the blue, in His creation, we … Continue reading Under The Blue
Musical therapy, during these trying times. Continue reading Raise My Rent by David Gilmour
It is interesting to see how the emotions play such a huge part in our experiences. I turned on my computer this morning to see a small monkey gripping firmly to a tree branch as the Windows program was booting up. Random pictures appear in this process, and they are usually accompanied by a few words to draw interest that pertains to the image. Anyway, … Continue reading Behind those Foster Grants Of Life
The bleeding heart: never void of the coming and going. Taking in–thrusting forward. The life-blood faithfully jaunts, replenishing; renewing. A carrier of our drive; a river of nourishing fare. Vital. Not critical. Tolerant. Here we are: bias and unfair… Nothing like the blood that we all share; unlike the blood sent abroad by the bleeding heart. Continue reading Our Rivers
Why are some inhuman? Why do some toy with the emotions by tearing away at the most vulnerable parts of others? Why do the Christians use the wrath of Old to portray the New of Jesus, as if He is some sort of bipolar lunatic? Why do they hate, with love? Why do they fervently read His Word, while never understanding His Word? Do they … Continue reading Rhetoricals
Battling the “ups and downs” of this life of mine can sometimes be an all out war. When the mood disorder that I’ve always had trouble balancing rears its ugly head–pulling in every direction, with the corruption of its character having the upper hand, I sometimes become engulfed within a funk with no real reasoning behind it. I’ll then attempt to find “reasons” for the … Continue reading Trying To Forget
Surfing through a few writings this morning, and after reading the specific focus of one writer proclaiming that his dad was his “hero” while growing up, it occurred to me: I had no heroes. One can look at the word in a number of ways. In this instance, the guy was obviously talking about his father being the role model that he looked up to … Continue reading I’ve Always Been My Own Hero. I Had No Choice.