Biking In Glories

There is nothing that lifts and confronts the heart of man as standing before the ancient earth.  Mountains, rivers, trees, skies, all sing glory.  I biked by a shallow inlet of the Emory River yesterday and was offended by the smell of rot and decay baking in the hot morning sun of mid-July.  Immediately, I was also confronted with the presence of God, reminding me of His ongoing providence to “make all things new.”  Nothing to something, formless to form, void to creation, no life to life, stench to the perfume of the glorious refrains of “Let there be!”  I biked on loving that my God Reigns!... and began to smile. 

 

It Came Upon a Dawnday Clear

“The world in solemn stillness lay.”*  This is such a profound line of beauty and adequately describes the mornings here at Fair Haven and across the mighty Tennessee and to the Appalachians beyond.  Oh, to think one day I might write a sentence that's beauty equals the beauty of what my eyes are gifted to behold.    

*Edmund Sears, It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

Will I See The Day?

I almost always see night become day, dawn.  In this, I am gifted a new day with all its possibilities.  What can one man accomplish in one day?  The possibilities are limitless, although the man is limited.  But the gift is this: who might I love?  Who might I help?  Who might I forgive?  Who might I think about, pray for, and hope for?  Who can I reach out to?  What can I see?  How much can I praise? and worship? and learn about and walk with?  How much of today will I be conscious of?  Will I hear the birds and love songs?  Will I smell the river rich with life?  Will I feel the warmth of my lover?  Will I taste the fruit of the earth? Will I see the day I have seen become? 

Last night I saw a hole in heaven.

An Always-Filled Glass

I am transitioning from being old to being aged.  Aged to me is the end times when I must accept that my body and mind are becoming unable to support my desires and dreams.  I have always been a dreamer, with dreams that are greater than I could ever accomplish or live up to in order to achieve.  I see myself aging like this, and I have dreams for my life that my body and mind could never accomplish.  This may seem despairing, but it is anything but.  It is only acknowledging that my intentions are always best imagined as “my cup runneth over.”  I dream of the abundance pouring over the lip, but drink from an always-filled glass. 

My cup overflowing.  Saw this group of big bucks 
while biking with my lover.  There were actually four more,
but I couldn't get them all in my shot.

How To Know The Highest Mountain Top

It is amazing how states of being and states of mind dictate my ability to think good or bad, even to be in a state of good or bad.  These are simple words to explain an infinitesimally greater meaning.  Add to this the amount of me that is given over to grieving over the plight of those I love, and I can live in valleys so deep. The dearness of this is that only in the deep valleys can I fully understand the ecstasy of the mountain top.  And I have been to the mountain top.   

Left my shovel out in the rain and this is what
gifted me when I found it.  

Trying to Keep Those Many Memories Ago

I have known my mother longer than I have known any other human.  She is the first person I can remember knowing.  Her actions toward me are my earliest memories.  I can remember on cold mornings she would lay me on the clothes dryer to keep me warm while she folded clothes.  The story I am trying to write is how wonderfully beautiful and kind she was, how present and vital to my life, how filled with life and meaning.  This is how I first knew her.  These days, I often think through these thoughts, hoping to keep the memory of her now that they are juxtaposed beside the mom I now have.  The vitality of her life is so important to my knowing her.  I am trying to keep my memory from being deconstructed by my current reality.  It’s like clinging to a vapor, a vague dream upon waking.  But her current condition is startlingly clarifying, bringing the vapor into absolute, solid remembering.  She was so alive, so beautiful, so important to me.  She is the video of my earliest life, the one person who was present in those many memories ago.   

Family Photo, mom holding me at 4 months.

    

 

Growing Up In One World, Growing Old In Another

When I was growing up, there were only two ways to say anything to anyone.  You could say it to them face-to-face or on the phone.  This was my technology.  It was also limited to a very few people, those with whom I wanted to have physical contact.  My talking crowd, my friends, were physically near me every day.  It was a very small world, but filled with meaningful relationships.  Those friends I loved!  As much as a young teenager can love, I loved them.   Such was the small, loving world of my youth. 

It would be hard to function in my world if you did not grow up in it.  Person-to-person, physical contact was the key to all my enduring relationships.  It still is today.  However, it is hard for me to function in a world that is best suited for those who didn’t grow up in mine.