Tuesday, March 27, 2012
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.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
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.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
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
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=WibmcsEGLKo
Sunday, March 11, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
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
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Y4MnpzG5Sqc
Monday, March 5, 2012
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
http://vimeo.com/22356025
Sunday, March 4, 2012
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.
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.
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