Hunting

      I sat here and tried to write about the great tradition of hunting , but I couldn't. There are so many different emotions that come to my mind. Often times people find hunting to be a barbaric activity. Hunting is much more than that. It is a father and son bonding in the woods. It is man or boy working out life's problems at the base of Sycamore. It is the pure unadulterated experience of being one with nature and our creator. We as "hunters" go to the woods to find a deeper meaning in life. To come back different than we were before. As a boy I can remember watching the sun come over the hills and seeing how the world awakens. As a hunter you become much more attuned to life and its little idiosyncrasies.  It is a time where a man can go and leave his life behind to focus his mind and ask the questions he never thought to ask before. A great example of this is Helio Collective Searching for West. You will enjoy every second of it. 

http://vimeo.com/47989207 

Peter Bradley Adams

http://vimeo.com/25365650

The place of Healing

Driving down old dirt roads.

Keeping ahead of the sun and roosters crow.

Walking through fields together we went. 

Down to the old river, old grave yard , old cattle fence.

Up the hills we walked searching for the light .

Still feeling the chill of a cold , cold Virginia night.

The cows look up with a smile on their face.

Knowing that this land is my saving grace.

A quiet escape from the land I once knew.

Soft rays of sun wash away the tears on my face,oh that morning dew. 

It is my place of healing where I can wash my pain away in its great flowing river 

The river that divides the past and the present. 

Where I can walk its hills and remember the past but look on toward the future. 

The past is a dangerous thing. It can grab hold of you like the river and drag you down. 

Or it can hold you softly like the warmth of the houses pot belly stove .

I have always been drawn to open country. 

It sends me on a walkabout to examine life and myself.

It soothes my restless soul. 

It puts my mind at peace and helps me work out the hard things in life.

I can go there and be still in the presence of God. 

I will for the rest of this year at least , live 45 minutes away from what was my true childhood. 

 I live 2 hours away for what is my present and hopeful future. 

The Land in VA

Land behind the old Cornett Homestead.

The New River alongside the land

 

Grab on to this earth

Grab on to this earth!
Hold it tight.
Let it fill the creases of your hands.
Let it fill your hands ,as the sands of time empty from this hourglass.
Do not swim upstream,but let the currents of this river of life take you.
Let it become part of you.
Your are one with this hallowed ground.
This place of blood,tears and reconciliation.
The sins of fathers and sons lie in this dirt.
The cleansing blood of God covers this land.
It came and washed away the blood, but there are still stains.
The pain it burns like the hot ember of a fire that has been burning way to long.
I sit there by the fire watching my father cry and remember.
"Grab on to this earth" he cries!
Hold it and never let go.
Put it deep in your heart.
Let the memories be brought up into your hands.
This earth holds it all.
On a quiet night I traveled alone to the barn and sat there on the dirt floor.
Grabbing this dirt to put away.
Packing away memories,tears,and laughter.
Each one as special as the next.
My hands are covered in these memories.
My heart ached as I raked away the dreams of the barn one last time.
Packing them into the coffee can that is my heart.
This place is a platform for my dreams and aspirations.
Where I learned to be a man with boots on my feet and heart in my hands
I learned to live simply and enjoy life's little flickers of honesty
Because I know that the thread of life ends here in strands.
The time has come to walk away.
But I can't bear to move.
I must grab on to this earth!
I can't let go.

Beautiful

   Instead of me writing this time, I will let the musical talents of Justin Vernon ( Bon Iver) shine. So watch this video and enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3VjaCy5gck

Run- Life prayer for all/ conversation with God

I want to run.
Run through the fields of a familiar place.
I want to find a hope in a heart that is filled with grace.
I want to run to the safety of the valley of comfort.
A place I can stay within  the lines of complacency.
But I feel a tug; a tug to run again.
To run to the open spaces.
The open spaces; the places the faces of things unseen.
I want I want I want.
Its selfish, melodramatic ,and jaded.
I want to be in state of service where my words are loved and not thought overrated.
It should serve as an example of a soul still working.
With some fears conquered but others oh so lurking.
Meet me here.
Raise me up.
A bountiful feast ;an overflowing cup.
You are above watching.
And here down below.
God help me be a light.
A warm light; a holy glow.
In the darkness.
In the deep.
We run this race of life never stopping and listening.
To sit by a quiet stream
Or count the stars.
To realize you know each name , not just theirs , but ours.
We are astounded by your complexity
Yet we often feel your not a reality
Help us find you
Help us know you
Amen

Rocky Raccoon : The tale of a raccoon that was having a bad and disoriented day.

    As I was sitting in my room doing homework still clad in the Sunday best, a sound erupted from down the street. I poked my head out of my bedroom window and listened again. A cry for help split the quiet street of Robmont . As I looked for the commotion I heard, "McClain get your gun"!

     Not knowing what to do, I sprinted to the attic, grabbed my old Winchester .12 gauge , and sprinted for the door. As I ran across the street in true gentlemen farmer fashion,a whole host of house buyers stared in shock as a teenage boy ran carrying a hunting shotgun.Upon arriving at the neighbor in distress's house, I witnessed a pitched battle between man and beast. My father wielding a shovel was swinging like a heavy hitter at a psychotic raccoon whilst it was being sprayed with water,and fought by the dog. It was as if an exhibit at Petting zoo or Sea world had gone terribly wrong, what with the flying water coming out of the garden hose or the wild animal sprinting around the backyard.The whole thing was an extreme spectacle and had gathered a small gallery of concerned,and most likely bored neighbors.  I ran up and tried to pin it down with a flat head shovel as my dad called animal control. With my neighbor in the house and the dog barking from across the yard, the whole thing was starting to calm down. After the dispatch of Animal control took his sweet time to get there, we all went our separate ways.

I had thought I had the raccoon beat while recounting the story to some friends. But then, oh then I got that call that you never want after that event. "Um McClain, ya your gonna probably have to get rabies shots,or...you...could probably go insane or die"...great. So I took the shots, and have finished the cycle. I thought old Rocky Raccoon had lost the fight, but it turns out he was just a bit under the weather ,and have a most likely terrible day.

My Walden

     Since the farm has sold which is just so spelled out for the people that actually read this blog of mine, I have since taken up fishing. To say I am a novice is an understatement ,but slowly I am getting better. This little pond shown below is my little escape from city life. It is ,as I mused today my Walden pond. Henry Thoreau , went to a place called Walden pond for a year to reflect on life; to get away and be quiet. This is my place to be quiet. Thoreau did the same thing." I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy him forever." Henry David Thoreau. This is the closest thing I have to the farm. It is where I come to think and find meaning. Today , while doing college app's I got so stressed out, that I just slammed my laptop shut grabbed my fishing rod and ran out the door and drove to my Walden. As I drove a soft country song came on and a smile came to my face. The stress melted and I was at the pond. I got out to the soft sound of crickets chirping on the bank ,and the sound of bass hittin bugs on top of my Walden. As I hopped the fence the sound of the street was dampened by the live oaks that surround the pond. I wave across the pond to old Mr. Crouch working in his garden. He is a great man that lets me fish at the pond. A missionary,and true red blooded american Mr. crouch is one of a kind. The pond is quiet as I throw out a couple casts and unwind.

 

Dope

http://vimeo.com/user2188666/russiasurf

Rain is Jazz

Rain is a wonderful thing.Today it is raining and all is right with the world.
I came home and put on jeans and wool socks and skated across the floor like a speed skater in the Olympics. I listened to good smooth jazz while my window had tiny little fingers rapping on the pane. I drove through the rain be-bopping along to some smooth Miles Davis.
Rain is Jazz. It is is the sharp ,smooth, inconsistent yet ordered event that sometimes happens on a good afternoon. To some, rain is a pain (not trying to be corny lyricist). But for me it is a chance to throw on some comfortable clothes and spend a good afternoon inside by a fire,or reading a good book. Rain has always reminded me of Jazz because I grew up listening to Jazz. When I was a little boy I would go spend weekends with my grandfather and go hunting or work in the barn. At the end of every night after prayers, I would crawl into the rickety old twin bed and stair out the window at the stars or ...rain and start to doze off. Now if your from the upstate of South Carolina, chances are you don't have an alarm system. So our alarm was the sound of a radio. We left it on all the time to "ward off intruders". But, we all new that was a load of bull and left it on anyway. As I would fall asleep I would here Jazz on the radio. This sparked my love for music in the beginning. I have these memories of laying in that bed ,listening to jazz crackle through the old GE radio that sat in my grandfathers room and know that I was safe. Away from the rain outside and in the warmth of the covers and music that surrounded me. The house,the house had its own music too. The thump of the gas heater rumbling through the wall, or the sound of the fridge quietly buzzing. The sound of the screen door slamming. The sound of the coffee maker in the morning. The house was music and safety too. So on days like this with the rain softly falling , I look back to what once was. Rain makes me nostalgic. Sometimes in a good way,some times bad. Someone once told me that rain makes them sad ,but mindful of the happy memories it brings them. On the path of life there will be hardship, but you must hold on to the things you love, remembering the the times that were good and the times to come. In this case for me, rain is jazz. It is the spark of a passion, the comfort of a father figure,and the memories of a places taken by the sands of time.

Imagery/an explosion of my emotions of something I have yet to get over

Soft grain is strewn about the floor. A pale glow casts haunting shadows along the clapboard walls of the barn. Sounds of night echo through the air, bob white quail going to nest, ducks touching down to a pond for the night,and crickets chirping merrily. Nights at the farm were my favorite. A warm glow from the fire can be seen in the distance as I walk back alone from the woods. Its almost a light at the end of the tunnel of darkness. The woods signify a fear of darkness, that I believe all man has. Shouts of laughter and coarse language can be heard as I approach. Funny jokes are made about marksmanship and other things. Food.Good Lord the food was so good. It came out steaming,warm, and inviting. Deer,wild turkey, wild rice...the list goes on. We would sit around listen to music,swap stories some true some not. Then we would all sit quietly and just sort drift off to our own thoughts. Some would stair deeply into the heart of the fire and think of home or family. Others like myself would stair up;straight up at the night sky. I would sit in my lawn chair gazing toward the heavens looking into the face of our God. The night sky over the farm is a surreal thing that few can experience. I guess I am writing this to just try to make sense of it all. For those that go to school with me, I was gone on the weekends. I was about 20 exits down 77 South almost every weekend. Hunting,fishing,working,living. It is like losing a loved one. It sounds so silly of me to say that but I believe it. On my last night at the farm I went alone out to the barn like I always did. I stared up at that night sky I had seen a 1000 times. I knelt down and scooped some dirt into a coffee can and drove away. That was it. It was one of  the most monumental moments of my life and it just ended. I guess I am just now realizing now how hard it is. But it will get better. Will it? Time heals. I hope and pray it does. As for now I must find a new place to plant these memories I have.

http://vimeo.com/37601529

For the mountains may move and the hills disappear, but even then my faithful love for you will remain. My covenant of blessing will never be broken," says the LORD

And how blessed all those in whom you live, 
      whose lives become roads you travel; 
   They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, 
      discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! 
   God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and 
      at the last turn—Zion! God in full view!

Psalm 84:5-7 (The Message)

   I was recently in the mountains, and this verse came to mind.This psalm is a cry of adoration to God. " And how blessed all those in whom you live!" This meant a lot to me, because this poem relates to the mountains. It talks of quiet pools brimming with rain. It is the piece of God within us. The mountains are such a clear picture of our walk with God. You have the peaks and valleys."They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks."  When you look at the mountains, you see God in full view. I personally take great comfort in the mountains. I was raised each summer at the foot of the Blue Ridge mountains. We would sit out on the porch and listen to the night come alive with crickets and the bubbling brook. We would sit and play music till the early morning, and sing and laugh. The mountains in my eyes is communion with God and others. It is a place to love, and live life. The mountains run deep in my veins. My great-grandfather at the age of 13 moved his 8 siblings from deep in Georgia up to Asheville to work in the mills. My grandfather was born in his home in Mars Hill NC. Our lives have been centered around a 35 mile stretch between Asheville and Montreat NC for the past 90 odd years. The verse above is actually from my aunts memorial handout at her service. We all hiked down to the cool mountain pools ,where the column-barium is . Soft sounds of nature were all around. The quiet sound of the stream, the soft sounds of mockingbirds,and robins in the tall oaks. She was at peace here. She like the rest of us, was captivated by the mountains. As we sat there in reverence , my family read aloud this verse and it was true that God,the Creator.Zion! Was indeed in full view. We often get our view of God clouded by everyday things, but to go sit alone in a calm place in the Blue Ridge is pretty close to perfect. 

The quarry

          I walked along a beautiful country lane the other day enjoying all that summer had to offer.

I watched as acre upon acre of corn stretched up toward the sky. I watched as mourning doves flew from power-line to power-line. I turned off of the lane ,and walk down into the tall pine forest.  A few moments later I happened upon one of the most beautiful sites I have ever seen. An old abandoned rock quarry in the heart of this farmland. The story goes that they were mining and hit a natural mineral spring. The water is a deep green almost blue green. Your body glows with its color as you swim along. Since the farm has been sold, I have been drawn to open country like this. I find myself driving on old back roads,or going fishing for no real reason. I guess its just that I can find comfort or ; closure in beautiful places like this. The farm, was my place to commune with friends, and with God. It was a place I could go and be in His creation. So I suppose I am drawn to places like this because it gives me similar Aha moments. The quarry has the fantastic echo and it is so quiet that you can practically here your heart beating. It is the most peaceful place I have been. Its almost as if this place is where I came to heal. To come back into the country and find my love for it again. I definitely will be back to this place very soon 

I am a bit of a sucker for soft singing guitar pickin ladies.So check out this great cover artist I found on youtube!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkoyqLQgWOs&feature=relmfu

A Eulogy of sorts

      My heart breaks as I write these words. Words can't express the deep emotional roots that have grown rich and deep into the soil of a place I call home. I have spent what seems like a lifetime at 2016 Daffodil Road Rock Hill SC. But really its been a mere 15 years. A flood of memories rushes over me every time I think of it. Cold hunt mornings,where you can barely feel your toes.Hot coffee,eggs,hominy grits,and a cat nap after an early morning. Working on the Jeep that loves to break .Just going down old I-77 South for the day with friends. As I have sat and watched my true home be sold like cattle on an auction block I have been mulling over a lot of things in my mind. Its like watching someone die. You can go see them, but you know that one day they won't be there. This land, this place,and these memories bring one word to mind. Reconciliation.This has been a place for my father and myself to rekindle a relationship with my grandfather. This was the place where my dad would come visit "PaPa" as we call him. Time has healed their relationship,but so has The Cauthen Family Farm. I will always cherish memories of riding through the fields at dusk on my grandfathers lap. The old Ford tractor chugging along and almost dying.I could spend days recounting old tales that would make you laugh till tears. One memory, I guess series of memories comprised into one are the late nights by the fire pit. Songs,stories(fibs),and good food has been shared at the edge of that fire. Everyone from city slickers, to country boys,rich and poor have sat around that fire. Each person has their own memories. Each memory is special. This is one of the hardest goodbyes I have ever had to be apart of. Things will get better though. As my father and I were driving I-77 north back home the other night. I said "Dad, sometimes the right thing sucks". Sorry I didn't say that in a more lofty pretentious way ha but its true. I will always miss the place I truly call home but I know that it is not eternal. When I die I will not go to the farm. I will arrive at the gates of paradise where I will be forever cleansed of all my wrongs. However, if there had to be a heaven on earth it would be 2016 Daffodil Road. Also my dad and I worked out a deal. When he dies I am gonna sneak back out to the farm one starry night and spread his ashes on our land. It may be not ours anymore, but the spirit of the place will always ring true. No one can replace what happened there. So farewell my dear farm. I will miss everything about you with every fiber of my being and I know many others will too. 

Trees whip buy as we drive with the music blaring.
An old Alabama song plays as we pass the Rock Quarry off N Fork road.
Farms and fields go by as we grow closer.
There is nothing like a day in the backwoods of North Carolina.
We pull up to the spot.
Kids jump out.
People laughing,splashing and joking.
Life is good.

"Ho Hey"

This band, is my new crush per-say. They get me all giddy inside. I was like most Americans, wasting time in front of the "boob-tube" and found a song off of a Bing commercial. I stopped right their and said aloud "Who is this !!" With the catchy folk pop sound The Lumineers cast you away to a crowded Appalachian pub where men are making merry and reminiscing over old lovers. With the tantalizing mandolin riff, you feel as if your at a square dance on a Friday night down in Buncombe County. Then , the best part is the slow build up of  the base beat. It all comes together and creates a happy folk sound that all can enjoy.So...ENJOY!

http://vimeo.com/43844146

Creation ,Fall,Redemption

A light, a soft flame in the darkness

gives a soft glow to the boundless deep.

Indescribable; a form that will be earth sits in silence.

A silence that is so silent that it is loud.

A voice made up of a thousand voices. 

Speaks life into nothing. 

A chaotic order spreads across a formless earth.

Light is separated by darkness.

Creation was as chaotic as an explosion but as beautiful and calming as a falling snow.
Sun and Moon are divided
Through this mysterious life Adam was guided.
The serpent;gods law.
Man partook , then the fall.
Banished for life,an eternal curse
Waiting silently for redemptions birth.
Loud like creation but quiete as the night,
Emmanuel the Lord claimed His birth right.
A child, a savior,a divine king.
A heavenly gift to the world he did bring.
A fishermen, a sheperd, a teacher.
A human, yet divine and holy creature.
God created, God cursed,God forgave.
He raised us from the muck and mire,
and filled in the grave.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gq3ly-hEATs&feature=related

Exam/ life prayer

Stress you are abounding.
Fears your  are surrounding
my heart with doubt.
What will I do ?
What must be done?
I am in dire need of He the holy one.
Meet me in this place.
Wipe the tears of  fear with your loving grace.
God I need you, put your hope in me.
Take away my fears ,and place me upon a mountain of trust.
Guide me through this valley where I am choked with doubts dust.
Let me breath the clear mountain air of trust , and tranquility.
Take me to the high place where I can see all that's before me.
Amen

The Artist- A Farewell to the Great J. Barkey

Eccentric
Inspiring
Mentor
He is an awkward yet funny artist from the mountains of Peru.
He is a lover of music, painting, and recently sculpting too.
He has taught me many things over the years.
I know I am not the only one who will say goodbye with tears.
But somethings must come to an end.
A setting sun , a light around a bend.
New journeys lay ahead.
Written before us.
A trail along mountains , valleys , and creek beds.
But we all will remember the times we've had.
Some happy some sad.
The art room band , The Barceloni family gathering, and many others.
The art room, was always a place to go and be free.
Free to express, to write, and to create without scrutiny.
With heavy heart and deep sigh, I write these words of remembrance to thee J. Barkey.

FLAGSHIP

Here is a great band from my hometown. They are mix between The Killers,Vampire Weekend, early Kings of Leon  , and many others. But they have a tremendous sound of their own. Their emotional lyrics will hit you deep inside and evoke thoughts and questions, you did not have to begin with. Listen to their new Ep Black Bush or buy it on Itunes. Here is a snipit of some of their tunes. IT DOES NOT DO THEM JUSTICE. The album or EP is awesome

http://vimeo.com/29689197

The Rain

The rain,
The rain falls.
The rain falls in little drops, as it skates across my windshield.
The rain runs down the hills and trickles down spouts.
The rain brings out the children that run to play out in the open fields
The rain has a rhythm of its own. A pitter patter melody , followed by the thunders angered shouts.
The rain takes on a life of its own.
It is an ever changing being.

Music : followed by a link

Music , I take shelter within in your wings.
I hide behind your soft comforting voice.
Your sweet sound brings my soul to a soft whisper.
It clears my mind and keeps my emotions at bay.
It is everything that is right in our world.
A steady rhythm keeping my creativity alive.
It is my voice when I can't find words to speak.
It is my mood ; my muse on which I thrive.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STpg37kzQ6k&feature=relmfu

Sounds and Sights of Summer down in Edgemoor ( a poem , and reflection)

The cool summer breeze, blows in the early morning whilst rooster crow.
It sends a hush through the old pines back on old Tuckaway road.
Small ripples rise from lazy hawk pond,
The calling of songbirds welcomes the dawn.
The smell of coffee wafts through the old house,
its an old cotton barn, so you might see a mouse.
We grab a bag of granny smiths, and head for the door.
The fishing poles are in the jeep, Luke is asleep on the floorboard.
We drive down to go fish for a better part of the day.
Time has stood still as we cut down past the gate.
The pond sits motionless as we pull up.
A few wood ducks alight; the morning nap we did disrupt.
This place, these days, how they are numbered.
Filled with memories and dreams unencumbered

Good Tunes

This type of music is so raw. The sound of old Gibson's and hofner keys, giving a sweet warm sound wafting into the air space of young American ears. The harsh ,sharp,and  husky voice of the sassy lead singer gives you a cool Otis Redding ,Janis Joplin  sound. It's fantastic .It almost makes me feel like I am taking a trip into the early 70's Muscle Shoals style of southern rock. This is what music is all about, feeling a connection with the band.


http://www.youtube.com/user/alabamashakes?v=Le-3MIBxQTw

The Rabbit- a connection to environmentalism

     I as some of you know, am an avid hunter. I love to be in the woods and interact with animals. I love calling  them and  they in turn call back. As  I was sitting at home enjoying a wonderful meal of mixed greens,and salmon, my dog was seen in the back yard killing a small rabbit. So naturally at the behest of my mother I had to go retrieve the poor animal from the dog. As I walked up to my dog she knelt down and looked up for approval almost saying "look what I did, aren't you proud of me?" I gingerly picked up the rabbit as it looked back at me with terrified eyes not knowing what to do. I often don't have a problem with things of that nature,but something was different this time.There is an unspoken tenderness each of us have toward small helpless things of this world. As the great care giver of nature Francis of Assisi  said "If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men." Nature is precious and fragile,it is helpless. So we have a responsibility to look out for it. 

This river - a song idea? ( a tad cheesy)

Verse
This river flows, in southern Tennessee.
This river is like our love, flowing endlessly.
This river runs deep,this river runs wide
This river is the color blue ,deep set in your eyes.

Chorus
So lets go swimmin ,down in the river
walk hand and hand, along the banks..
This river has always been here and will  forevermore ..............

The rest is yet to be written. If you have any suggestions tell me. Cause I am in a bit of a dry spell as far as writing goes.

By The Fireside - Reflection,Poem, Prayer.

The light reflects off their weather worn faces. From years of hunting ducks in the canals and sitting through cold deer hunt mornings.The fire, lights up their glasses and smiles as the laugh and joke of unseen memories."Remember that time we got caught drinking corn liquor by the creek?" Two small town farm boys, reminiscent of days gone by. Back when, they could go out and hunt wood ducks for days and night spend a single dime. I sit their , almost reverently listening to them spin their age old yarns. About early morning turkey hunt's out here on the Cauthen Family Farm. This fire pit has been home to laughter,tears, and sorrow. Tall tale stories and predictions about the hunt of tomorrow. For years I have sat and listened to these men talk,laugh,and joke. As the years go by, I am finding myself telling some tales of my own. " Remember fishing old Lazy Hawk pond?" These fire nights are numbered, I know this is true. But please oh please Lord give us many more fire nights under many more moons.

Spring its time to awake - an outcry and pep talk to the season that is taking its sweet time to get here.

Spring please awaken from your slumber.
The winter has raped ravaged,and plundered every last green leaf , flower, and plant.
It's icy cold hands still bear a presence in the mornings, while my sister runs to the car and blasts the heat and commences a heartfelt rant about your hiatus.
It's that time of year, spring.
The turkey hunts have commenced, blue jays are flying about,and the geese and ducks are flying back to the GWN ( Great White North). So spring its time to get out of bed,eat your Wheaties,and kick some Jack Frost tail! Go get after it.

Sincerely , A concerned and angered earth citizen .

Music...The Soul Healer

I was born with music inside me. Music was one of my parts. Like my ribs, my kidneys, my liver, my heart. Like my blood. It was a force already within me when I arrived on the scene. It was a necessity for me-like food or water.
Ray Charles
Music, has always been an escape to me. A place where I can go and get lost in a sea of time signatures, coda's ,and chords. A place where I can dump my emotions onto the ground and pick up my guitar or banjo and just jam. Music is a part of me. Everything I hear and see, has a musical or rhythmic significance. A turn signal in rush hour, the beeping of a cross walk sign, or even the simple rustle of leaves on and autumn day. So  if your like me sit and unwind with an instrument in your hand.You will really like this band! They are called Snarky Puppy. Yes I know that is the strangest name you will ever hear for a band. But they are incredible. Hailing from the streets of Brooklyn, this soulful bunch of renegades can make you feel as if your in a gospel church, or a high class jazz bar. They're music is diverse and incredible. 


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1cskIan5Jw&feature=relmfu

Christ is Risen

1 Peter 1:3-9

English Standard Version (ESV)

Born Again to a Living Hope

³  Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, ⁴ to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, ⁵ who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. ⁶ In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, ⁷ so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. ⁸ Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, ⁹ obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

I have learned, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
Henry David Thoreau

Reconciliation Lands

    The other day, I was riding home from yet another wonderful day at the farm. We had shot skeet,rode four wheeler's,grilled steaks, and played guitar to the moon as she rose above the tree line. My dad was on the phone with a buddy going over the details of the afternoon and talking about how special it was to our family. It has been as I quote my father " a land of reconciliation". It is a holy ground. It has been in our family for close to 80 years. As I walk around the barn or through one of the fields, I can almost hear and see the many generations of my family that have gone before me. Throughout the years my family like most has had an extremely rocky road that it has traveled. But the farm is and was a place where one could go and just be. No noise, no tv, or cell phones. Just be still in the moment. It is a land where a father reconnected with his son. A land where a grandson went on wild adventures and such with his wild eyed ,and bushy bearded grandpa. Where music,good food ,and fantastic friends have been shared around a skidder rim fire pit on cold deer camp nights. It is a place where we can escape into a world of forgiveness and grace. Where all the arguments and accusations just float beneath the old bridge up turkey creek as your headed for a morning hunt.

A post for that which was lost

Sweet smile, simple grace.

Her soft blue eyes, she in her own special way touched our hearts and small piece of the ever moving human race.

When she left us, time stood still. A tear rolled down my cheek as I gazed heavenward from my windowsill.

He took her up and gave her new life.

He our heavenly husband, the body of Christ is his wife.

When I to enter his gates as the wedding bells ring.

I believe you will be by Saint Peter smiling.

We all miss you with a painful ache in our soul.

But as time drags by our hurting hearts become whole.

But its nights like this, with the moon hanging high.

I sit by my windowsill ,and gaze at you Libby in the night sky. 

Searching for a sign keeping deep faith.

That you my dear aunt will once again meet me face to face.  

Lines composed a few miles above tintern abby- Wordsworth

Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a sweet inland murmur.*—Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
Which on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 10
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which, at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Among the woods and copses lose themselves,
Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb
The wild green landscape. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees,
With some uncertain notice, as might seem, 20
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire
The hermit sits alone.

                                    Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me,
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,
And passing even into my purer mind 30
With tranquil restoration:—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps,
As may have had no trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life;
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight 40
Of all this unintelligible world
Is lighten'd:—that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

50
                                                If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft,
In darkness, and amid the many shapes
Of joyless day-light; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart,
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee
O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer through the wood
How often has my spirit turned to thee!

And now, with gleams of half-extinguish'd though[t,]
With many recognitions dim and faint, 60
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was, when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, 70
Wherever nature led; more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
And their glad animal movements all gone by,)
To me was all in all.—I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me 80
An appetite: a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour 90
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man, 100
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half-create,*
And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 110
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

                                     Nor, perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me, here, upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while 120
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! And this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 130
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our chearful faith that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee: and in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind 140
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; Oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance,
If I should be, where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence, wilt thou then forget 150
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came,
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love, oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake. 160
Footnotes.

[4] * The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above Tintern.

[107] * This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of Young, the exact expression of which I cannot recollect.

Charles Chaplin

This video is extremely powerful. It is a beautiful video. It relates so much to our time. Yet it has flaws. God is not within man but within God. God is not one person this is true. He is in three beings. Otherwise this video is a tremendous testament to the very few decent things left in the world. The irony of this video, is that is was made in the 1930s or 40s. Yet is speaks completely and totally to our generation. We are blinded by greed, closed off to human interaction, and enamored with instant pleasure. We as a world, followers of Christ, and  as a generation need to take a step back and examine ourselves. In the words of Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard "The hardest thing in the world is to simplify your life its so easy to make it complex.The solution that may be for a lot of the worlds problems is to turn around and take a forward step.You just can't keep trying to make a flawed system work."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=WibmcsEGLKo

My "Old Faithful" Emotions.

Do you ever feel, that your emotions are sometimes like a geyser? You have have, all this feeling, passion, or sadness, and anger built up in you. It just sits and grows pressure and finally explodes... I sometimes feel this way, its almost a hurtful thing. As I write this, I am going through my own worries and emotions. Why am I worried about something I wasn't involved in? Or why does this have to happen? The geyser is a saddened and questioning beast that lies within my heart. But sometimes when it does explode it leaves a since of peace behind.
A weight off my shoulders, a yoke lifted, a heavy heart and soul carried. He is the one who did and does this for me. He is Christ.

For The Nice Guys Out There: A poem

For the nice guys our there,
This is your anthem
Girls are  friends and nothing more.
If you express your love, they go running for the door.
You pour out your heart they cut the ties.
You sit there, heart on your sleeve, tears in your eyes.
But do not despair friends, for one day these girls will open their eyes and come running back to you.
For now they love the jocks and tools that abound.
Until much later, they will realize that you are their solid ground.
Their comfort, their friend, their lover at best.
Until this part of life , in her heart you were but only a guest.
So stand tall my brothers and look ahead.
For this to shall pass
The awkward moments, and ever present face that is red.

WATCH. ACT NOW.

This video, is mind-blowing. Please watch this and spread it to your friends.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc

I watch Vimeo because I'm Trendy

This is a wonderful video, that we can all relate to. As a nature lover, I often find myself  feeling the same way this couple does in their video. I yearn to be in nature and away from the Noise, Noise, Noise that is our city. If you know me,  I am a very talkative person. Yet, I often am pulled to the most excluded of places. In short, I love to be by myself. I love rising in the early morning. To walk along our creek bank at the farm or listen to the distant cackle of a turkey in an early morning hunt. I love it. To wake up and go hike and not see another person is an ideal morning. So watch this video and see if you feel the same way I do. It may sound cliche, but if you really sit and examine yourself. Are you ever truly alone? Do you have a need to constantly be surrounded by noise and people?

http://vimeo.com/22356025

The Age Old Question.

I sit here and think about my life.
What to do, when to do it.
People and their expectations abound.
I sit in this silent turmoil to scared to utter a sound.
What will become of me in these years to come.
"That is so cliche" sounding to some.
Surprisingly this is how many of my generation feel.
We sit alone in the movie theater that is our life and watch our life's rapid reel.
College, an option? A good job? A good wife? A good life?
These are The Age Old Questions.
He is with me in all dark places.
His love fills my heart,my doubts, and a poor sinners empty spaces.
With Him I can do all that I want.
The Age Old Question is what?
I sit here and listen to my house as it sleeps.
The sounds of the baseboards giving my room heat.
Warmth,security, and love are carved into these walls.
My life's memories are echoed down these halls.
This house is like Him in my heart.
He is a safe place,a warm embrace.
After toiling in the trials of a young juvenile's day.
Some say your in the prime.
I say life is hard. In your time and mine.
The Age Old Question of life is answered.
God is with me in the valley.
He is here.

Explains exactly how I feel

Isn't religion so funny in this way? So I have had the equivalent of a bad day ,but of course He comes in and makes it all better.
¹ I call on the LORD in my distress, 
   and he answers me. 
² Save me, LORD, 
   from lying lips 
   and from deceitful tongues.

When you come back down - Nickel Creek

You got to leave me now , you got to go alone

You got to chase a dream ,one that's all your own

Before it slips away

When you're flying high,take my heart along 

I'll be the harmony to every lonely song 

That you learn to play 

Trapped but freed

Deadlines, lectures,fears abundant.
Bad dreams,long nights ,and thoughts oh so redundant.
Expectations, and Implications for all ages.
Many fears, some times a tear,
Oh how hard can life be year after year.
The age old questions of life and its meaning pass through my mind
Like who is watching over the stars, the sun,and the moon in the sky.
But then I remember with a smile on my face.
Their  is a being with  grace in His heart and ruling over my fate.
 He watches over me from way up above.
From his thrown high in heaven with joy and much love.

Sit back ,and enjoy

This is a band I saw this past summer that opened up for Mumford & Sons in Asheville NC. They are fantastic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCiwFr1w1Dw&feature=related

Natures Awakening, Sounds of the Farm.

Early morning the sun rises slow.

The ducks are flying fast through the gently falling snow

The rooster crows from the yard nearby

A covey of mourning doves take their early mornings flight

These are the sounds of natures awakening, at the farm. 

The smell of the old gas stove in the corner of the house ,and the distant sounds of Carolina's jazz playing an old Armstrong song.The sweet smell of coffee brewing by the back door. The grunt of the old man shuffling down the hallway preparing for his day. The rumble of the tractor,or the pitching of hay. This is a hallowed ,and spiritual place.

The Crucifixion

The Crucifixion

The crowd’s spits and yells as you walk by.

You hang your head down and begin to cry.

The people you have made have turned against you.

Little do they know that they are tragically being blessed by you.

You walk up the hill rocks cutting your feet, a single raindrop runs down your cheek.

You reach the top and bow your head.

The wine is your blood, the body is the bread.

You slowly rise up and cry out in pain.

Atop of your cross reads “King of the Jews” in a wooden frame.