I stand tonight and look over the tossing sea. I wish I had more reason to feel as melancholy as I do. Alas my heart speaks to me in a language that I once knew but now can only speak in broken rhyme. I could attempt to analyse myself as a specimen, like a butterfly you see pinned to the page. But no, I’m more complex than that, surely? Or perhaps I am that simple and my eyes are simply blinded with the film that washes over them of sudden now as I recall my once grand dreams. I shiver and pull my jacket closer to myself as the first few drops of rain begin to fall. What is it that I wish for now? I hesitate to speak aloud what has been swirling in my heart. Instead, I breathe deep. I close my eyes and as I hear the ever changing symphony of the sea I run my thoughts over the promises that I cling to. Oh thank God that I do not put my hope in mine own fickle heart! If my own emotions were the basis of the confidence in which I wake and stride forth each morn, I would be a sad thing. I breathe deep again. It is good that my roots go deeper than the mountains that lie at the heart of the sea over which I look. Now out loud I do speak a few words, a litany, a pleading, a prayer to the God who sees. Look at the stars that peek through the clouds! Look at the moon light that plays over the singing sea! No less does my heart churn yet somehow now at a slower pace as I consider all that hath been wrought for me.
Month: October 2025
Finally
A lovely cold morning here. Below 60 degrees when I stepped outside, oh glorious day!! Now about to start work, a nice big mug of hot coffee in hand. Oh so happy fall has arrived at last!!
Reminders of the Autumn
A bare few thoughts on books this dreary Thursday evening.
68. Rainbow Valley by L.M. Montgomery. This book was far more beautiful and enjoyable to read than I was expecting! Not sure why my memory seemed to think this book was lacking, but it’s not. It’s a wonderful, delightful little book. Of course though, now that I think about it, it is lacking something. Namely, Anne. Anne is barely in this book, but for some reason I didn’t mind it overly much. Instead, this book is all about the children but really more than that, all about the Merediths. The Blythe children have had their book, this book it’s time for the Merediths (and one Mary Vance) to shine. I loved meeting all the new children and reading about the shenanigans in the parsonage and of course the ultimate romance between two who had thought romance was only in their past. And yes, this book has shades of sorrow as well, as it looks to the future when these children will grow up and partake of and witness one of the worst wars known to man. You can feel the sadness as Montgomery writes with this war fresh in her memory. But that’s for next book! This one, by and large, is cheerful and ridiculous and a fun romp of a book.
69. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. This book was simultaneously fascinating and frustrating. Fascinating because it is written of a time and culture I know so little of and hence I much enjoyed reading of the clan and village life in West Africa (Nigeria) of a long ago (19th-century, really not that long ago after all!) time. Frustrating because the story itself felt a bit disjointed, jumpy and sparse and I struggled to stay engaged with the characters. That may perhaps be my own fault, but I simply didn’t think the writing in this one was that good. At times it felt like reading a textbook, even. Still yet. There is value in this book, simply because it reveals and sheds light on a period and place that I knew little of before. I was intrigued to know how I’d find this book because I distinctly remember reading this book back in English class oh so long ago (freshman year of high school!) and I wondered if I’d remember anything from it. Honestly…very little remained in my brain. But I did remember one thing. I remember thinking Obierika is simply the man, and I found that belief reinforced. Love that guy. Apart from that? There’s some fascinating characters – I especially found myself wishing we had more time with Ezinma, who pretty much disappears by the latter part of the book. And there are some deeper themes here, especially as they relate to the effects of imperialistic colonialism and the influence of outsider religion and its interplay with culture and family. In many ways, reading this book reminded me of reading 1984. Some really rich themes and heavy reminders of the brutality of man, yet presented in a poorly-wrapped, overly didactic package. Still – is there value in this book? I believe so. One more thing before I close. The last line? Absolutely brutal and perfect all at the same time. I can’t imagine a better one.
Two by Two
Finally but finally it feels like fall here. 55 degrees this morning. Simply glorious. I may or may not have done an abnormally early grocery store run simply so I could wear my hoodie and bask in the early morning “cold”. I am happy. That is all.
In Between Spaces
Life is so unyielding she sighs mournfully. I wish I had a response to that or that anything I said or did could give her comfort in this moment when she feels so sad. Yet there is nothing of substance I can offer so I give her all I have. I gently rub her shoulders and stay silent. The chirping of the birds off the path sounds louder in the absence of any spoken word and I am grateful for that. Slowly as the tears roll down her face and our breaths sync, my hands come to a rest and in silent communion we watch and wait. The clouds above us hold in silent witness and even the birdsong seems to sound in harmony with the sniffling that she makes. Sometimes there are no words sufficient to answer the pain within. At long last there is motion and the clouds move on, seeming to indicate that their watch is done. The evening sun glimmers over the tree line and I put my hand to my eyes to shield the light and I am for some reason surprised to find out that I too have the remnants of tears on my face. I feel under my hands the tension is gone. Something has broken, something that needed to break. I walk around the bench and sit beside her, wondering what comes now. As she leans her head upon my shoulder and lets loose a sigh that contains a thousand lines, I somehow feel better now. Nothing has changed but our posture. We must soon get up and walk down the path and face another day. My arm tightens around her as I feel her shiver in the evening’s cold. And she whispers in the twilight I am glad to be with you in this place.
Beyond the Point
At times it is tempting to slip into the same habits that you fit into so well yesterday and exclaim as you look in the mirror – it’s a new me! When it is of course true that in fact you are wearing something that is quite well used and perhaps even adorned with a new stain or two. Such it is when we get a bit too comfortable with patterns in our life that are not quite advantageous for the life that we so eagerly proclaim we wish for. But this is normal. Most of us have our blind spots and most of us have those hidden reefs that cause peril when we are not carefully navigating by those precious charts we should be more closely paying attention to. Is that not why we ought live with others who can see us as we are and point out those moments when we slip and stumble and laughing through our tears exclaim that we’re all right and say no perhaps not. Perhaps you’re not alright. And that’s alright. Or it’s not, but yet it is, for we walk not alone. Instead we walk through these valleys together looking to the west towards setting sun and though eagerly we look for the next way stop, we still sigh a bit knowing it’s not home.
And so if you have muddled through these mixed metaphors and deciphered anything of use therein, then I am grateful. But really I just want to speak plainly now and state how good it is that we need not live this life in solitary fashion. Of course it’s fashionable to proclaim oneself as self sufficient and capable and independent in all things. But alone we tend to wither and finally crack under the pressure of the burdens of this life. We need each other for we were not designed to live a life in which there was no communion with any other soul. We need a helper or a friend. We need someone with whom we can steadily share eye contact and it not be weird. We need someone to lift us up from life’s muddles when we veer a bit off track. And yet.
This need for a person beyond our own self existence points to a deeper truth that within us speaks to a void that cries out to be filled. What can fill this seemingly infinite hollow that nothing on this earth can fill? There goes that classic question which of course you know the answer to. If nothing on this earth can satisfy that longing in our soul it must mean we need look elsewhere beyond the setting sun. Even your closest companion or partner is not sufficient to satisfy that existential longing, is that not true? Eternity beckons. My heart aches with the knowledge that I was made for more than this finite life. All the history and poetry and philosophy I read testify in a thousand voices that in myself I’m missing something and there is nothing in the created order that can make me whole. Yet there is a voice calling, calling me to come. I know that voice. Do you hear it too?
Seven
There are mornings that my very soul could sing for delight. This is one such. I am oh so grateful for small pleasures that my God has granted me. This morning, a leisurely lie-in and I didn’t have to leave my bed until after the sun peeked over the horizon and through our window shades. Oh bliss! Following that, a nice hot shower while the water boils in preparation for one of the most important ingredients for a good morning. Coffee. Of course it’s coffee. I was then able to meditatively take part in one of my favourite little rituals and make my aeropress coffee. As I waited for the coffee, a few minutes on the phone with Dad and then I prepared for the remainder of my morning before church time. TV on! But not for what you think – no TV programming or shows. Merely…switch on the youtube and find a suitable musical accompaniment for the day. Hilary Hahn playing Tchaikovsky? Yes please. Let me turn the lamp on next to my armchair and settle in with my Bible and books at hand. A while later, much had been read and much music enjoyed and the strong hot coffee enlivened my body while the readings that I had been walking through did their part in enlivening my soul. Surely I rejoice in the ministries of the Spirit this day. Perhaps I have talked too much of vain things at times. Even now, I name all these little pleasures and routines that are mine with perhaps too much joy. But are these simple things not still beautiful? I say so. And now it is time to go and worship with the people of the Lord. My brother and my sister, come with me. It is good for us to be here and rejoice in the lovingkindess of our Lord.
Veil
Someday I would love to walk the path through the ancient forest and stop when I feel the shimmering of the air around me as the sunlight breaks through the canopy. Then I’d stop and hold my breath and wait with my head tilted upwards and eyes closed for that goosebump moment when the birds would begin to sing. And then I’d exhale and start to hum the song that I had always known, even from the first time my fingers traced the music in the chord book on the piano back in the spare room that time when I was young. I had of course tried my hand at playing the notes as I thought they fell but I was too inexperienced then to understand the weighty dance that was required to truly play the music as it was meant to sound. So I put away the book and backed away from the piano and though I thought of it now and again, it was as if it was a dream that was not for me. Yet I am haunted still and wonder when we shall meet again, that song and I. I know soon my time shall come and I shall walk past the curtain and into the forest solemn walk. And then in that forest vale I’ll walk but not alone. And I shall hear that music, that I know, but I’ll hear more than that – I’ll hear a voice. I wonder what it will be like, that day when I know as I am known. My heart breaks now for the vision that has been wrought by more than my imagination could dare to dream. When comes the summons? I sit up on my bed and look and see the branches waving past the window. The wind picks up and I see the branches tapping in friendly fashion. Come out and play.
Timidity
Hello friends! A bit tired tonight and thinking that perhaps my energy and mood are more suited for reading than writing. Alas as I was hoping tonight would be a night I could really open up a bit and just be random in my creativity (or lack thereof). As it turns out, do I really want to write? Not sure that I do. Or perhaps my energy is a bit sapped and I just need recharging. No walk today, as I have a pot of bolognese simmering and while future me (about 24 hours from now) will be very happy to be eating a lovely dinner of bolognese over pasta, current me is a bit sad that the aforesaid pot simmering situation has kept me in the apartment all afternoon and now evening and so no walk at all. Le sad. I think that when I walk and am surrounded by the glory of the day and various people going about their day, I feel that energy and beauty and it puts me in such a good place for writing. Does this mean that I can’t summon up internal energy and the muse if I do not have something from the external? Apparently this is a thing.
And really, what am I writing now? A lot of nothing. It happens to the best of us I suppose, so I shall not let it dim my mood too much. After all, I have a book I can sink back into, the apartment is lit charmingly with the lamp at the end of the couch, and I have a beautiful classical playlist on the TV just now. This is a night in which I can rest and so can I truly complain? I think not. And who knows? Maybe in a few minutes I’ll pull this laptop back out and finger the keys and see where my thoughts take me. The night is young after all.
Peace and love, my friends. Peace and love.
Pumpkin Time
Hello friends! Thought I’d write a quick few words this Friday evening. How wonderful it is to get a little bit to rest, I do say! I am also eager at the moment to test out this new laptop which I’m writing on. It’s been eleven years that my previous one lasted and while it is still limping along, I felt it was time to transition to the next generation. It is kind of nice to have a laptop that boots up in mere seconds instead of a minute or two! And the keyboard is glorious. Is it weird that I particularly picked out a laptop that would have a decent keyboard? And didn’t at all consider gaming capabilities? Ah well, I guess I have aged a few years since my last laptop purchase and thus it makes a bit of sense that my priorities would have changed. Now I’m more concerned about how it will feel to type long passages of text than on how capable my graphics card is. Things change. Of course, that change comes with the hopes that I shall at some point type long passages of text that actually have a slight bit of depth or beauty. Praying for such.
And now for what do I hope? I hope for a quiet night in which I am able to truly rest. Grateful for the few minutes I’ve had now reading a lovely and inspiring book – “The Imitation of Christ” and looking forward to a yummy dinner of burritos and avocado/tomato salad. Shall I write a few words now to christen this new laptop keyboard? I’m not sure my mind is settled enough to compose anything suitable. Perhaps I shall attempt nonetheless.
she turns back from the ledge
and smiles at me
reaching out her hand that I might
join her
and then I step forward and take her hand
our eyes meet
in solemn concord
and together we bow our heads and pray
under the sun that blesses
let’s walk forward as pilgrims
bear our crosses as our joy
for nothing else
will satisfy
Christ crucified is our cry
better than life as kings and queens
why do we wail for the want of jeweled crown
when we have one that went before
from whose crown-pierced brow that blood fell
mingled with those tears for us
Something Weird 