The Lily and the Rug

Some days,

I think you are
a vased lily set
on a corner table
and I am
a patterned rug
beneath you.

I am hoping that
someday,
a cat will brush you,
an arm will nudge you
or the quaking earth
will upheave you.
Your white blossoms
and fertile water will spill
over the table's lip
onto me.

It's not that
I wish you turmoil:
I just want you
as a rain of flowers,
however unexpected.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly.

Like a catfish dancin' on the end of my line.

This is what I've been waiting for. I remember when we bought the couch that I am sitting on - when we put it in the living room of my old home. That was something like 8 years ago, and now I am lounging in the midst of a radically different family situation. The dynamic might have been a bit off the last couple of days but, in this exact moment, time has stopped: Emily and Meghan are on the floor in front of the fireplace petting Peanut; I can smell the cooling coffee; the sound of my mother doing the dishes is in my eardrum colliding with the Springsteen that Joe put in my Itunes. I need to go take a shower so that we can begin our Thanksgiving festivities, but I am afraid to leave my seat and set time back in motion.

I'll just need a minute to swallow the lump in my throat.

Turned Around

Here is the latter part of an NPR article about why human beings cannot walk in a straight line for an extended period of time while blind-folded. This article seems to say something about the human heart as well. Where do we end up if we do not look to Christ as our "corrective" or "external focal point"? If an analogy is to be drawn, I would say that we end up exactly where we started - nowhere.

"Humans, apparently, slip into circles when we can't see an external focal point, like a mountain top, a sun, a moon. Without a corrective, our insides take over and there’s something inside us that won't stay straight.

In our radio broadcast, Jan and I explore (just hit the "Listen" button on this page) possible explanations for this tendency to slip into turns. Maybe, I suggest, this is a form of left or right handedness where one side dominates the other? Or maybe this is a reflection of our left and right brains spitting out different levels of dopamine? Or maybe it's stupidly simple: Most of us have slightly different sized legs or slightly stronger appendages on one side and this little difference, over enough steps, mounts up?

Wrong, wrong and wrong, Jan says. He's tested all three propositions (the radio story describes the details) and didn't get the predicted results. There is, apparently, no single explanation for this phenomenon. He is working on a multi-causal theory.

So like walking in circles, we finish where we started: with Asa Schaeffer's very simple field studies, his graceful pencil lines (especially when our animator Benjamin Arthur gives them beautiful motion) posing the puzzle: How can we be turning and turning and not know it?"

The blue box.

The air was still tonight. I danced in the street wearing a zip-up hoodie and a flannel and if I had closed my eyes I might have been moving my feet over pavement 1000 miles north.

What makes a place? What combination of people and buildings give an atmosphere? Am I really living somewhere that people write songs about? Mayer sings, "I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore," and I realize Johnny has that option. He is a real person, you know, he makes real decisions. He'll probably come to LA though.

Life moves a little more quickly when there are people in it. Community does something to the look of it - like on Saturday when I spent time just being with people. I mean that literally, we just were, and I think that it was my favorite. Find me a category and I'll give that adjective a noun. When I think about the next couple years I am reminded of how small I am. I am not the main character - I am actually somewhat of an antagonist. He is greater than I. But I hope that I can spend the next couple - or maybe the rest of - my years being comfortable with people the way I was on Saturday. On Saturday I think I was 1000 miles north.

All the vampires walkin' through the valley.

I am very, very behind in Russian but it is being overshadowed by the rest of my life. This isn't good. (This space was meant to have the Russian word for "bad" but Blogger sucks). Oh Lord, please give my professor a merciful heart this week. Tomorrow I will sing a new song!

To excitement for "what is to come", to acceptance for what the Lord has in store.

To bed for this rather academically-concerned child of the Most High.

To running two miles with this in one's head:

She's a good girl, loves her mama

Loves Jesus, and America too

She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis

Loves horses and her boyfriend too

It's a long day livin' in Reseda

There's a freeway runnin' through the yard
And I'm a bad boy cause I don't even miss her

I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart.

Oh November.

I am munching on cheerios in class and

I am disappointed. I received an 86 on my Biblical Interpretation and Spiritual Formation midterm. I just want to take this moment to express how much I loathe B's. I studied for hours for this exam and it is frustrating that there was so much room for improvement.

I know, I know. I should be thankful. We are about to spend time in prayer in class so perhaps I will take this time to ask the Lord to change my heart. I need an attitude adjustment.