I am sitting by a window, it is light or deep indigo outside, as my part of the earth rapidly moves toward our star. I just finished reading Exodus’s telling of the building of the Tabernacle. The word Tabernacle sounds good and feels good in your mouth as you say it. It has a certain rhythm, a twinkling jingle to it–Tabernacle. The word means God’s dwelling among. That’s why it is such a beautiful word. God words should sound like prose, a one-word poem; Tabernacle.
I am the firekeeper in my family. It is a sacred trust. It involves one of the primal needs, warmth. It also meets a greater need, serenity. Serenity, living in an atmosphere ripe with peace and calm, is a rare commodity today. Most often, it is found through nature; mountains, forests, streams, and oceans come to mind. But fire can also create it. What is fire? Scientifically, it is stored energy being released. I think of it as a Divine gift of pleasure and love. This is why I have dedicated a great portion of my adult life to being a master fire tender, a keeper of fire; to ensure those of mine can always draw near and be exquisitely comforted by the Divine gift of fire's release of warmth and…serenity.
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.
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.
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.
`“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.
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
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| The Bad Bunny of my day with all his and my pals. |
