http://vimeo.com/47989207
Sunday, December 2, 2012
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.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
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.
.JPG) |
| The Land in VA |
.JPG) |
| Land behind the old Cornett Homestead. |
 |
| The New River alongside the land |
Friday, October 19, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
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
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3VjaCy5gck
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
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
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
Sunday, September 23, 2012
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)