A Simple Life

I find myself in the woods every morning with my lover, climbing our loaned mountain, which we have named Mount Brown, after my lover’s family.  It is where I need to be.  We live in a small home, 37’/49’, just to look at the earth when we are not walking on it.  We are a sparse couple, few things bring us joy, and we try to keep ourselves close to those things: God in Christ, our family, his earth and animals, deep meaning for personal worship, our neighbors, and working with our hands.  We touch each other!  Throughout the day, we connect our love, souls, and beings by being close.  I am normally quiet; my wife likes to talk.  I am a greater seer; she likes to dance, and I enjoy seeing her dance greatly.  We have few needs that aren’t met by God, and each other, and the three of us in the woods, lakes, and mountains.  It is a simple life of divine and exquisite meaning.     

  

Happy Trails From The Narrow Way

I have woken hundreds of times on the road and weary.  In tents, the finest hotels, antebellum mansions, guest houses, and road houses.  All with the Ancient of Days and art. 

Here I am again on a cold, rainy morning, dark coffee, 12-foot ceilings, a four-poster bed, old furniture from the early part of the last century, and thick, soft rugs.  Old has a certain smell, like the Rock of Ages, years laid by on years, the deep fragrance of time.  I suppose I am beginning to smell that way, incense of age, more and more of me floating into eternity.

Another art show, another lecture, another time to waken my lover for a warm shower and a long journey back to Fair Haven.  Happy Trails from the narrow way.  

 

Working In a Math Factory

There are phases in life where Friday becomes one of the greatest graces, the kindest act, the most needed gift, Friday, a gift from God. These phases also make Monday like I have come out of retirement and am working in a math factory.  Boy, I am always needing God.   

 

 

On Minneapolis

`“Your Soul is Village Size.”  My daughter shared that statement with me about our devices, saying they make our souls live on a global scale.  

One basic thought for all my other thoughts.  Stay off my devices.  Nothing that is happening in Minneapolis would be happening to me if I weren’t on my devices.  People, men, women, evil, good, mothers, fathers, are being arrested and killed all over the world (Iran, Ukraine), including in my hometown, where I live.  But the powers that be, the forces that will shape the world for their benefit, are focusing on Minneapolis to fill up my devices to fill me up in the way they want me filled.  My devices are designed to feed my fears, anger, and hatreds.  That is the truth. 

The real question I face is, “Do I love God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength?”  If not, then I can stop writing because nothing else matters.  But suppose I do, or at least am trying with all that I am, I can then go on to the second thought that pertains to me personally.  Do I care enough about others to love my neighbor?  I mean,n those that live right next to me, right across the street?  Do I serve them? Help them? Work to keep them safe?  Do I know their names, their children's names?  Their struggles?  Am I daily concerned for them, so much so that they know it?  Do I pray for them, for their family, for their homes, and property?  Do I love them so they know that I love them?

It reminds me of the story of an old Indian sitting with his grandson, who was struggling to become a great Brave.  The grandfather said to his grandson, “There are two wolves inside of each of us, one is evil, one is good.  The evil wolf is filled with anger, lies, resentment, hatred, and pride.  The good wolf is filled with joy, peace, love, and hope.”

“Which one wins?” asked the grandson.

“The one you feed!” said the grandfather.   

 

Bad Bunny

I have never missed a Super Bowl.  The first one where I had a dog in the fight was the 1969 Super Bowl III, when Earl Morrall substituted for my hero Johnny Unitas and lost to the Jets and Joe Namath.  He was my second hero (I can remember going to Cherokee Hardware in Athens, TN, and buying my first pair of white cleats). Half-time shows were just marching bands like college games today.  They eventually became more interesting, hosting the Blues Brothers, The Rolling Stones, and the last one I can remember watching, Bruce Springsteen.                                                                                                                      Bad Bunny is not my thing, but I imagine if Taylor Swift or Lady Gaga (again, not my thing) played in Porta Rico, they would sing in English.   Morally,-- sexualizing the Super Bowl just seems wrong, and whatever is said,  I later saw pictures that looked like something I couldn't sit and watch with my granddaughters and grandsons.   I would be very uncomfortable, another thing I don't want to be while watching the Super Bowl.   There is no moral to this story, just how I feel           

The Bad Bunny of my day with all his and my pals. 

One Great Gift

I am old, an ancient burl of a man.  Broken, been cut up and boiled down, bent, lame, and hard over.  Old and nigh near 70.  But…sometimes, deep within me, in the ancient part, I can feel I am a child to the Father.  There is no freedom like that freedom of feeling the remembering of being me as a small child.  That is one great gift. 

That's me, 3rd from the left.  I can sometimes feel
him in me, as real as it was real.

 

“Trees have only one leg,” Dad!*

An old student with a great soul is a dear friend of our family.  A couple of years ago, he read a blog of mine, “Well Done Thy Good and Faithful Tree,”** about a great red oak that had fallen here at Fair Haven.  He decided he would like to make a table for us out of the tree.  Last year, he came and cut the tree into sections to season and get ready to be milled.  This weekend, he came and milled it.  It was a great pleasure watching a man, a timber framer by trade, harvest a massive tree and carefully, with sincerity, turn it into a stack of boards; a deeply meaningful spiritual experience.  Age upon age, ring stacked on ring, now being exposed, laid open, revealing the aged beauty of creation.  

Now, with skill, perseverance, and trade, he will create a table of it.  As true an image of God as I see these days.  Image living, Maclin Williamson. 

*Maclin's son Lee, named after me, said that to him.

Maclin setting up to mill the log.
**  https://aaronleebenson.blogspot.com/2024/09/well-done-thy-good-and-faithful-tree.html