I know I haven’t been posting much at all for the past month as I have been moving and settling in to a new home. Unfortunately, the famine is going to continue for another month or so since I will be writing a novel during the month of November. Yes, you heard me right. A novel! I am going to be participating in National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo, the idea being to write a 50,000+ word novel during the month of November. It is not really a competition (you’re only essentially competing with yourself) and there is no award, other than the sheer satisfaction of writing a complete novel. It doesn’t have to be good – nobody’s going to read it unless you choose to show it to them – just fast. The idea is that if you’re not over thinking everything but just writing as fast as you can it will help release the creative juices, and I’m hoping it will do just that since I am definitely an overthinker. I have my outline, my background info, my plan for writing, and beginning Nov. 1 I am going to be writing like mad! Starting in Dec. I am planning on getting back to posting regularly – and who knows, if it’s good enough I might just share my novel right here for your enjoyment and/or amusement. For more info about NaNoWriMo, or to participate with millions of others around the globe, check out their website at www.nanowrimo.org .
In other news, you may have noticed a new feature on my blog. If you look to the right you will notice the option to subscribe to my blog via email. If you subscribe you will get an email every time I post so that you won’t miss even a moment of my insightful and creative writings :) So enter your email address (don’t worry, I won’t ever see it – it’s all very secure), follow the instructions, and start receiving emailed updates in no time at all!
Until December, Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, and Happy Writing!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
A Blessing of Rain
It is the small hours of the morning and I am alone. Outside the closed blinds it is raining, an instant balm to my soul. I remember when I was in Jerusalem for the wedding of my best friend from high school. It rained between the ceremony and the reception and there, in the desert, it was considered a blessing. I have never forgotten that – indeed that concept has wormed itself into the very bedrock of my thoughts and values. Even here, in the land of lush greenery, rain is a blessing. And tonight it is blessing me.
We have been here two weeks today. A new city, a new job, a new home. It is not what I expected. Visions of gliding smoothly into a new and wonderful life are blown away like dandelion seeds before the breath of God. I am left with the reality. The start of my new job has been postponed by 3 weeks due to unexplained “business reasons”. That is a blessing and a curse, since it leaves us without the income from those 3 weeks, but also gives us a lot more time to unpack, and time to settle in as a family before I have to start my job. With the stress of moving, and the exhaustion that has followed we are all short on patience, and just generally short with each other; quick to anger, quick to take offense when none was intended. During the day, and in general, my daughter seems to be doing well adjusting to the move. Twice now, though, we have heard her crying in the middle of the night - not her normal cry but more of a moan or a whimper - and gone into her room to find her looking out the window at unfamiliar surroundings, lost and confused and scared. It breaks my heart! I can only hold her and tell her that I understand and that no matter what Mommy and Daddy will be there for her. She eventually goes back to sleep and I am left alone to cry in her stead.
I, who have traveled around the world, and who just moved a mere and relatively paltry 500 miles away, realized the other day that I am experiencing culture shock and for some reason it is not going well. I can adapt with ease to Kenyan or Israeli or Chinese culture, quickly insinuating myself so that (were it not for the fact that I’m 6’4” tall and so very obviously Caucasian) I practically blend unnoticeably in. But then you expect those places to be very different, you are looking for the differences, aware, alert, on your toes. I don’t think I expected that here. After all it’s only one day’s drive, part of the same country, even part of the same general region of the country. And yet it’s very, very different here.
So, it has been hard, and not at all what I expected, but that is not all. We went apple picking the other day. My wife and I have wanted to do that for 5 years now, and somehow something always got in the way. Here, within 2 weeks in a new place, less than 5 miles from our new home that desire finally came to fruition. It’s a small thing, but there is a true sense of hope, of possibility and potentiality, of starting over. My family loves to swim. At our old house we had a ten foot round inflatable pool, which was nice but a big hassle. Here we have a fairly large indoor pool – and hot tub! Almost daily swims have helped keep us sane. And there is that pervading sense, no matter what else happens, that God brought us here and that he has something great in store for us.
It has not been what I expected, but I am reminded that life almost never conforms to the fantasy. It is often difficult, but always worth it. Challenge and difficulty, even suffering, are often the soil out of which amazing things grow. I can’t wait to see what God has planned for us here. But for right now, it is enough that he is blessing me with rain.
We have been here two weeks today. A new city, a new job, a new home. It is not what I expected. Visions of gliding smoothly into a new and wonderful life are blown away like dandelion seeds before the breath of God. I am left with the reality. The start of my new job has been postponed by 3 weeks due to unexplained “business reasons”. That is a blessing and a curse, since it leaves us without the income from those 3 weeks, but also gives us a lot more time to unpack, and time to settle in as a family before I have to start my job. With the stress of moving, and the exhaustion that has followed we are all short on patience, and just generally short with each other; quick to anger, quick to take offense when none was intended. During the day, and in general, my daughter seems to be doing well adjusting to the move. Twice now, though, we have heard her crying in the middle of the night - not her normal cry but more of a moan or a whimper - and gone into her room to find her looking out the window at unfamiliar surroundings, lost and confused and scared. It breaks my heart! I can only hold her and tell her that I understand and that no matter what Mommy and Daddy will be there for her. She eventually goes back to sleep and I am left alone to cry in her stead.
I, who have traveled around the world, and who just moved a mere and relatively paltry 500 miles away, realized the other day that I am experiencing culture shock and for some reason it is not going well. I can adapt with ease to Kenyan or Israeli or Chinese culture, quickly insinuating myself so that (were it not for the fact that I’m 6’4” tall and so very obviously Caucasian) I practically blend unnoticeably in. But then you expect those places to be very different, you are looking for the differences, aware, alert, on your toes. I don’t think I expected that here. After all it’s only one day’s drive, part of the same country, even part of the same general region of the country. And yet it’s very, very different here.
So, it has been hard, and not at all what I expected, but that is not all. We went apple picking the other day. My wife and I have wanted to do that for 5 years now, and somehow something always got in the way. Here, within 2 weeks in a new place, less than 5 miles from our new home that desire finally came to fruition. It’s a small thing, but there is a true sense of hope, of possibility and potentiality, of starting over. My family loves to swim. At our old house we had a ten foot round inflatable pool, which was nice but a big hassle. Here we have a fairly large indoor pool – and hot tub! Almost daily swims have helped keep us sane. And there is that pervading sense, no matter what else happens, that God brought us here and that he has something great in store for us.
It has not been what I expected, but I am reminded that life almost never conforms to the fantasy. It is often difficult, but always worth it. Challenge and difficulty, even suffering, are often the soil out of which amazing things grow. I can’t wait to see what God has planned for us here. But for right now, it is enough that he is blessing me with rain.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Breathing
The city is left behind. I am traveling at something approaching twice my normal high speed, and yet through the elongating effect of distance it seems as if I have slowed down. Buildings give way to corn and soybean fields, cement gray and slatted brown to a thousand vibrant gradations of green. The scents of gas and oil and the battling odors of a million restaurants give over to the more earthy aromas of manure and rain and hay. Soon forests grow up where there were crops and the ground begins to rise. A rhythm develops. Not so much a rhythm of duration as of direction. Up and down, up and down - a sensation you don't often get in the city. It almost feels as if the earth itself is breathing, as if out here it can breathe. And eventually, finally, I begin to feel as if I can breathe again too. As if that movement of the earth has kickstarted some long dormant and forgotten physical faculty. Not just breath but deep, cleansing breath.
Over time, as I cycle between hilly forest and flat plain, between town and city and open land, I begin to get a sense of the similarities that connect different parts of the nation. Despite differences in accent and culture and sometimes values, there is a sense in which we all belong to the same place, the same aggregate idea. Even separated by hundreds or thousands of miles, you can still see the same restaurants, some of the same companies, the same cars. Two states over from my own I begin passing signs for cities with the same names as ones back home, and I get the eerie sense that after driving for several hours I've never really left.
Just leaving behind the ordinary for a little bit gives me a greater appreciation for the routine that has so recently felt constricting, and whole new opportunities seem to expand before me. Sometimes it is a simple matter of perspective. To realize that there are other and larger horizons beyond the petty problems of my everyday life. There is beauty to be explored and taken in, made a part of who I am. The mundane and everyday will wait, they will return, but for just a moment the possibilities are endless, and the eternal is imminent, and I am awed into silence.
Over time, as I cycle between hilly forest and flat plain, between town and city and open land, I begin to get a sense of the similarities that connect different parts of the nation. Despite differences in accent and culture and sometimes values, there is a sense in which we all belong to the same place, the same aggregate idea. Even separated by hundreds or thousands of miles, you can still see the same restaurants, some of the same companies, the same cars. Two states over from my own I begin passing signs for cities with the same names as ones back home, and I get the eerie sense that after driving for several hours I've never really left.
Just leaving behind the ordinary for a little bit gives me a greater appreciation for the routine that has so recently felt constricting, and whole new opportunities seem to expand before me. Sometimes it is a simple matter of perspective. To realize that there are other and larger horizons beyond the petty problems of my everyday life. There is beauty to be explored and taken in, made a part of who I am. The mundane and everyday will wait, they will return, but for just a moment the possibilities are endless, and the eternal is imminent, and I am awed into silence.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
100 Words - Faster
I'm back with this entry for Velvet Verbosity's 100 Words Challenge. The prompt for this week: faster. And yes this continues the mysterious romance from Treasures (2) and Pillar, so if you haven't read those yet, you might want to go back first and catch up - this will make more sense then. Enjoy! Oh, and if you want to join in check out www.velvetverbosity.com .
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The pace of dissolution increased the longer she sang, and with it the speed of his heartbeat. He felt a pressure from inside as if his heart were trying to escape. Didn’t she know that he had carefully built these walls over years? Each stone a monument of silence, a barrier against pain. Or did it keep the pain in? With that thought it exploded! But each stone followed the sensuous curve of her melody and dropped in orderly rows forming a neatly paved bridge between him and her. She was beautiful! Now his heart beat faster for another reason.
-----------------------------------------
The pace of dissolution increased the longer she sang, and with it the speed of his heartbeat. He felt a pressure from inside as if his heart were trying to escape. Didn’t she know that he had carefully built these walls over years? Each stone a monument of silence, a barrier against pain. Or did it keep the pain in? With that thought it exploded! But each stone followed the sensuous curve of her melody and dropped in orderly rows forming a neatly paved bridge between him and her. She was beautiful! Now his heart beat faster for another reason.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Untitled
How does one put words to something barely understood, something that grasped for in the night slides away, sidles into shadows and melts into the darkness? That grief, wholly internal and almost juvenile, that pulls at happiness, self-esteem, confidence and peace. “No man cries like that” – and no man does. No. It is the sorrow of a child, never comforted, never acknowledged, never healed.
It is the silent wailing in the night. It is the dung that reeks, but is warm and provides a beggar’s comfort. It is the slap, the punch, that burns but signals attention – an arid deluge in a thirsty desert.
It is the wounded soul who curls, fetus like, in the dark place where words cannot reach. It is a god’s agony in a child’s heart in a man’s body. It is the velvet razor.
It cuts, soft and dark and sweet in its familiarity, never letting the wound close. Blood drips like tears. Tears drop like rain; thunderstorm and hurricane and tornado rolled into one.
It is the cry of the forgotten; the never known; the unseen.
Even spattered so, with simile and metaphor, there is only the merest suggestion of shape; invisible; elusive. Perhaps it is mystery which gives it its power. How can one understand something that can’t be put into words?
It is the sacrifice, one for another, the daily cross; death for life, or death into life, it is hard to be sure.
It is tears, petal soft and warm as blood, unchecked, eternal, as deep and salty as the sea.
It is the silent wailing in the night. It is the dung that reeks, but is warm and provides a beggar’s comfort. It is the slap, the punch, that burns but signals attention – an arid deluge in a thirsty desert.
It is the wounded soul who curls, fetus like, in the dark place where words cannot reach. It is a god’s agony in a child’s heart in a man’s body. It is the velvet razor.
It cuts, soft and dark and sweet in its familiarity, never letting the wound close. Blood drips like tears. Tears drop like rain; thunderstorm and hurricane and tornado rolled into one.
It is the cry of the forgotten; the never known; the unseen.
Even spattered so, with simile and metaphor, there is only the merest suggestion of shape; invisible; elusive. Perhaps it is mystery which gives it its power. How can one understand something that can’t be put into words?
It is the sacrifice, one for another, the daily cross; death for life, or death into life, it is hard to be sure.
It is tears, petal soft and warm as blood, unchecked, eternal, as deep and salty as the sea.
Friday, August 15, 2008
I'm Still Here
For those of you who care, I'm still around, just way busy looking for a job and overwhelmed by other stresses, so haven't been doing much blogging or writing. I'm sure I'll get back to it eventually, I just have other priorities at the moment. I am, from time to time, reading some of your blogs and trying to keep up, even if I'm not posting on my blog. TTFN.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Extreme Parenting (Don't try this at home.)
This limmerick is in response to Simply Snicker's poetry prompt at www.simplysnickers.blogspot.com . The prompt for this week is: total, tradition, triumph. I'm sure you're glad I decided not to continue my alliterative adventures. Here you go:
There once was an oral tradition
On the triumph of nuclear fission
You yell and blow up
Then they come like a pup
Tails tucked into total submission.
There once was an oral tradition
On the triumph of nuclear fission
You yell and blow up
Then they come like a pup
Tails tucked into total submission.
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