the shadowed alley lies quiet and in wait
where the void sneers and chaos swirls all about
and darkness coats the face of the cobblestones
but then sounds a word spoken
and light paints new creation down crumbling path
upon which walk the feet of the promised one
peace and judgment held in both his outstretched hands
soon shall that day come I pray
when lion lies down with lamb
Month: December 2024
Dreams of Paris
Some unconnected stanzas – enjoy or not, it’s all the same to me. I enjoyed the process of letting my thoughts spill forth on this day bursting forth in all its glorious reality.
shivering she pulls the blanket close
and cries out for that second cup of tea
and i cross the room and turn on the kettle
soon my darling soon
she smiles and says with bleary eyes
just make sure to put in the lemon
and lots and lots of honey
Drops of twilight on the canvas
unsatisfied he sighs
i meant to paint the sunset
instead look
it’s just another dreary urban sky
i remark unfavourably upon these stanzas
grumbling as i usually do
but look she comments it’s ok really it is
at least some of them
have the slightest ring of truth
let’s read deep into the evening
as the soup bubbles upon the stove
and perhaps our thoughts will be sparked
by the black and white on the pages
or if not
at least we’re cozy here at home
i seek that far country that i’ve sought so many times before
and yes i’m reassured to know there is written above the doorframe
a name that i will one day call my own
but that is not the name i cry now
for this country is only treasured for the name of its king
and so I sing it in all my songs and all my poetry
and ask that no one look to me
for one day i’ll walk across the river and up to the doorway
and smile to know i’ve found that land for which my God’s destined me
once more let’s climb the tree of abstract philosophy
she whispers in my ear or let’s not
and instead open the book
and taste and see
i tried to climb the sunset
i tried to reach the second night
yet all my tears and all my fears rang louder
in the absence of your light
so what my heart grumbled
so what my soul bemoaned
so what
my eyes trembled
so what she says
come home my love
come home
she balances upon the curb and laughs to see me walk comfortably upon the sidewalk
come over here and join me
there’s enough room for two!
but only if you stand in front of me like this
nose to nose
just as you love to do
the green light flickers a bit ill at ease
and i smile as i pull my jacket closer
content to walk beneath the neon sky
for though the night is cold
and rain drips down my neck
metaphorical dreaming swirls inside my soul
for i know my home is nigh
the Table is quite Well Laid she Remarks quietly
What does one say on a Sunday afternoon when the light fades and it feels that all that can be said has been said? Surely that is untrue, yet sometimes imagination runs away and decides to play in a sandbox in a different place and I am left forlorn and abandoned, unsure of what is true. But perhaps the thought should simply make me dig in towards the center and look for this other place, that land for which my imagination yearns. If I am left alone, perhaps I am not in a position of authority to state that this land which I call my home is in fact the homely house for which my soul desires. But really, my thoughts spiral in on themselves and would collapse if it were not for the green and flowering arrow of reality that pulls my thoughts tight around it and points me towards that higher altar of light blessed truth. And so I turn once more my head and gaze upwards and slightly to the west.
Warm Rain and Fever Dreams
A few short book ramblings this Saturday evening…
65. Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson. Book 3 of the Stormlight Archive, this is a fine Sanderson novel even if I do feel it is a step down from the first two books in the series. Yes, the focus on Dalinar is fantastic and long awaited and his flashbacks are positively riveting. And some of the moments in this book stand as some of the best in the series. We get Dalinar Kholin standing strong against Odium. We get prolonged moments in Shadesmar for the first time. We get to see Shallan really come into her own (or is it Veil? Or is it Radiant?). But some weaknesses creep into this book that seem to only propagate further the deeper we get into this series. Although at first Urithiru was profoundly fascinating and other (and there’s some great moments early on, especially with Shallan’s confrontation with one of the Unmade), this book spends so much time there that I honestly get a bit bored with Urithiru near the halfway point and find myself groaning whenever we return there. Thankfully Sanderson perhaps realises this and moves the action away from there in the latter parts of this book. Also some of Sanderson’s stylistic tics start bothering me a bit more here. So much telling instead of showing. So much hand-holding of the reader. I feel a bit condescended to at times. And the italics. Oh make the italics go away. Please? Ah well, I am being overly harsh. Sanderson’s plotting is still superb and I continue to read this series just to find out where the story is going. On to book 4.
66. Dawnshard by Brandon Sanderson. A nice little novella sandwiched between Oathbringer and Rhythm of War, this book reveals some important plot points as well as further deepens the understandings of some of the characters we know and love (the Lopen!!). I enjoyed this book but was a bit puzzled over the fact that my enjoyment of it was very dependent on which character we were following. I loved the Lopen POVs. Lopen is ridiculous yes, but Sanderson is so self-aware of this fact and so much leaning into it that I can’t but laugh and go along for the ride. And Lopen actually gets a major moment of self-reflection that although maybe a bit too on the nose, still most welcome. Rysn though. I have always loved Rysn POVs before (her interludes were always some of my favourite), but her moments in this book felt a bit stodgy and overly introspective and honestly didn’t really feel like Rysn. Not sure if it was because of Sanderson’s special care to make sure he accurate portrays her disability and subsequent way of thinking, but something just felt a bit off with how he wrote her. Still though, this was a fun book and a good palate cleanser prior to the plunge into Rhythm of War!
67. The Swimmers by Julie Otsuka. A profound book. I will warn readers that if you have not heard of this book yet, I would almost urge to not read the back of the book or a plot summary. After reading, I looked at the description on the back of the book and it made the book sound so trite and I fear would have ruined the reading experience. Instead…if you wish to read a book that is real and deep and dives into the depths of a person and their whole story and being, even as cracks propagate through their very sense of self…please just pick it up and start at page 1, wading into a work that will be well worth your time. I didn’t know what this book would be about (except well, a pool and swimmers, assumedly – as per the title of the book and front cover image) and I’m glad I didn’t. As I read the first third or so of this book, parts of it irked me a bit and felt a tad ridiculous and I wasn’t sure what I was even reading. But once the perspective shifts and you start following one person’s story, you sigh and put your hand over your mouth and yes, you understand. Or you think you understand. Then you keep reading and keep taking in gulps of breath to avoid the claustrophobic feeling that comes with feeling you are in unknown waters and hemmed in on every side by the walls that are closing in more quickly than you would dare imagine. You may think you know what this book will be about if you read a summary or thoughts by strangers online, but you will not truly understand until you feel the weight of this book on your lap and trace your fingers across the words on page and let them soak into your brain which even now sparks and hums in ways that are far more miraculous than you can imagine and which you take for granted as it works so wonderfully (until it doesn’t). This book will hit you hard because though it is a work about a particular person and particular relationship and particular family, it is also universal in scope as you also have a family and you also know what it is to live and be frustrated and to love and to cry. This book is deeply textured and there is so much hyper-specific detail that you can’t help but feel it is a true story. And of course, it is a true story. You know this in your core. And though you may be annoyed at times (as I was) at the 2nd-person POV, it is delicately handled and puts you in this story with such solidity that eventually you come to accept it and feel that this story could not be written any other way. There is a moment near the end that you may cry as I did. Perhaps you have not yet experienced some of the realities that exist so unashamedly naked in this book, yet you can imagine perhaps you will someday? And yes, that terrifies you and makes you almost weep as you imagine someone you love experiencing such loss and pain. This is a sad book. But it is a book that chronicles the true pain and suffering so many people in this world experience. Maybe one day you will experience it. It is a book about universal things, but at the end of this book, you realize also that this is a book that dives into the intimacy of a human soul crying forth to be known and loved and not forgotten or abandoned. To be forgotten is one of the deepest horrors you can imagine. To forget that you are forgotten, perhaps worse still. Life is a breath, smoke in the wind. This book reminds you of that. And refreshingly, it reminds you of hope that beckons.
Mornings I Look Up
the blank piece of paper calls out to be filled
and though the pen drops slowly from my hand
in trembling terror that it cannot be
good enough
it is ok
for look up to the one who is
who draws me ever more into
sweeter communion with himself
the God who knows my name
who in himself is sufficient
for all purposes my feeble mind can summon up
not to claim that i have any part in defining God
it would be with fear that i approach
and in reverent posture fall and kneel
for now at last my empty heart is filled
this morning i walk with God in prayer
Interlude
Hello, my friends! A quick few thoughts on latest read…
64. Why God Makes Sense in a World that Doesn’t by Gavin Ortlund. Many thoughts from this book that are still rolling around in my brain. This book is not written to “prove God” or construct a fool-proof argument for Christianity and I think it was important that the author stated that at the outset. Rather, the author uses an abductive approach to show the reasonableness of holding to theism, ending up by holding forth the attractiveness and sheer loveliness of the Christian faith as centered in the person of Christ. This is a book that spirals from the grand and cosmic to the intensely personal. The mind, heart and conscience are engaged from various perspectives before the author moves into a concise and winsome defense for historic Christianity. And no, the author is not presenting an airtight case that will convince the antagonistic skeptic. Rather, the author seeks to show that holding to theism (and more specifically Christianity) is not inherently unreasonable. Instead, there is a beauty, grandeur and pathos to believing in a God who is also a person, in a person who also walked this earth and died to reconcile us to Himself. There are parts of this book that hurt my brain and I daresay I probably need to read it again at some point to more fully understand all of Ortlund’s points. There are many books that the author referenced and quoted that I now very much want to read (this is a good thing!). And the plethora of movie and book references may be a bad thing for some, but I kind of loved them, as they very much spoke to the current moment in which we now live. This is a book that is a product of its time, speaking to the current ethos in which we live. But more than that, this book is an appeal to the humanity in all of us, asking if this humanity as such is simply a cold by-product of undirected physical processes or if in fact that which resonates within us points to a common story that has an Author. Yes, any book that talks about the origins of the universe, math, music, poetry, conscience and moral objectivity will have my attention. But more than any of that? This book calls us to consider the message of the gospel – and to ask the question of last things and what lingers beyond the veil. At the end, the author calls us to make a choice. This is a book that speaks to the seeker, the one who is seeking to grasp the infinite if in fact the infinite can be grasped. Is it possible?
There are many perspectives and views the author grapples with and at times it seems the author cannot quite do justice to the plethora of philosophical and metaphysical views that swirl in the minds of men. Yet he does try, and I appreciate that he does not shy away from the hard questions and that he attempts to honestly dialogue with those whom he disagrees. This is a beautiful primer to understanding how theism fits in and against the current trendy topics du jour, and if anything, it convinced me that most of modern popular thought is spending most of its time in the shallow end, unaware of the vast complexity of philosophy throughout the ages. This opens my eyes a bit, and reminds me how good it is to continue to read old books and old authors, to seek to avoid the biases that are confirmed when we only read authors who write in our own age. Of course I love the constant references and quoting of Tolkien and Lewis, and of course I love the firm devotion to Christ that the author cannot avoid from letting seep through. Yes, the author firmly holds to the task of speaking to the various philosophical schools of thought on many things, but he cannot help but let his wonder and love at the message of Christianity shine forth.
Something Weird 