Tag: writing

Slow Down If You Please

James HoganLeave a comment

A few thoughts on a few books this lovely grey Wednesday evenig.

29. The Apostolic Fathers in English edited by Michael W. Holmes. I had forgotten I had this one on my shelf! It has sat there for a few years now without me sparing it even the slightest thought. Finally though. It was time. I’m glad I read this work. What is it? Well, it’s a compilation of some of the earliest (non-canonical) writings of the early church fathers. We have works by Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp…the early-church manual “The Didache” and others. It was extremely fascinating to read words that had been written so recently following the life of Jesus Christ, even as the church was forming and coming to be slightly more structured and even as certain doctrinal elements were yet rather fuzzy. I think it important to read this with a discerning mind, especially if one reads – as I did – with the belief that the canon of the New Testament was divinely ordained by God and that these writings are not part of it. So are the words I read divinely inspired? I would say not. Yet still these writings give a glimpse as to the thoughts and beliefs of certain ones in the early church and I’m grateful for that. Some of the writings were truly fascinating and encouraging. Funnily enough I found the Epistle to Diognetus the most edifying! An apologetic for the Christian faith addressed to one who did not yet believe, I found it a clear and well-structured proclamation of the gospel. Some of the writings were a bit more odd. The Shepherd of Hermas? Yeah, that’s an odd one. I don’t quite know what to make of it and it made me uneasy at times. And some of the letters of Ignatius made me quirk an eyebrow, especially with his emphasis on the primacy of the bishops and their standing in the place of God. Hm. And I did note with sadness a vein running throughout many of these writings on the emphasis of works and holy living with a bit of a neglect on the work of Christ and what that work means for those who are his. Legalism and formalism already creeping in a bit. How quickly did errors accrete, even in the early church! So if you read this, read it with discernment and care. I would still heartily recommend this to anyone interested in theology and the early church. It’s a fascinating read and well worth the time taken.

30. Tiger by the Tail by Alan Nourse. An old slim paperback I found on my shelf, it’s a collection of old-school sci-fi stories, just what I was in the mood for! Yet…the stories weren’t anything much to write home about. These stories definitely felt in the vein of silly 50s/60s sci-fi, even reminding me a bit of Asimov’s lesser stories at times. I know this is technically “Golden Age” sci-fi, but I just didn’t think these stories were that great. There are better old sci-fi collections out there.

31. Dungeon Crawler Carl by Matt Dinniman. Finally. I’d been hearing about this one for a while and dismissed it figuring it was not my speed. Well, a friend finally lent it to me this past week and I knocked it out in a couple nights. Did I like it? Yes and no. It’s remarkably well crafted and the writer has a strong voice, to be sure. It’s a fun read!! But I probably won’t be continuing this journey. Even though I’m a bit curious how Carl and Donut’s journey progresses, I don’t think I can bring myself to read another one. I may have liked this book a lot more 10 or 15 years ago, I don’t know. If you play (or have played) video games, you would probably love this. I did appreciate the game references and it felt very Borderlands-esque (even the humor! especially the humor!) and the characters are strong. And I’ve heard the series only gets better. But! This book is just a bit too crass and profane, a bit too violent and dark…and…though I appreciate what the author is doing and it is a rather fun read, I just don’t need this in my head. So shutting it down after one. I wonder if this is a sign I’m just getting old? Or perhaps more weary of certain things I once found funny. Anyway, I do get the hype and I understand why this series is loved. Just not for me.

32. The Paradox of the Sets by Brian Stableford. Every time I read a sci fi novel by Stableford I find myself happy and pleased and wondering why I don’t read more by him. The author is wildly imaginative, wonderfully nerdy (especially on the subject of biological/ecological subjects!) and decently philosophical. This book is in a series that I have read a few books of before and technically this is the last one, but it didn’t really matter as the story is pretty stand-alone. It’s a mystery of sorts and I enjoyed trying to figure out what was really going on as the narrator attempted to discover the secrets of the final colony world on their mission. Well-written sci-fi goodness. Full approve.

In All of Time and Space

James HoganLeave a comment

A momentary beauty and a fundamental truth encourages me in this day that feels so real and present yet I know by tomorrow it will be yet another wafer thin page quickly fading in my memory to mist. But does that fact that the existing moment in the present is quickly shoved aside to become ever less important in the grand scheme of the timeline that rushes stubbornly in one direction mean that moment is in actuality less important or is it only a trick of perception? I would argue so though it is difficult to state my case when I can say for almost certainty that if this earth still spins a few hundred years hence there will be no one left alive who remembers my name (and certainly not my face). I’ve had the thought myself when looking at old photo albums – who is that? No clue. Turn the page. Page turned and accomplished and we move forward in swaggering sureness of importance of self. Hard to think otherwise when one exists as one does and can only reference to self because well one thinks as oneself does one not? Oh pardon me for this angst induced overly indulgent existential rage. I am proud and selfish as most of us tend to be, us mere humans scraping through the rubble of our shattered dreams attempting to salvage an idea of the grand reality that was promised. Does your heart thrill to that thought too? Is there a true myth that causes your heart to skip a beat and the hair to rise upon your neck as you put your hand to your lips as unconsciously you yearn for a taste of the miraculous? Or is it only again the scrabbling through the ashes of the forest attempting to construct a mansion out of trees that never could bear the weight of expectations as you turn your face aside to cry? I ask for your forgiveness, friend. My thoughts dance ahead of my reason and I fear the turmoil of my heart is now bare for all to see. What is this lot of mine, this suffering? Do you hurt too? I ache for that weight of glory. I beg for the veil to be removed. I crave to live in a real house someday. I can’t bear this tent much longer, surely not. But there is a sense of something beautiful in the corner of my eye and I rest my hand upon the truth that truly never lies. Someday resurrection will be seen face to face. For now though I see not, I believe. I can’t help but otherwise when the fire burns within me so.

Fits and Starts

James HoganLeave a comment

Sidewalk strolls seldom feel entirely purposeless when the sky so shyly smiles as she does presently. Involuntarily I smile and lift my head up in silent prayer. It is good to sing a new song this day. Puddles abound and the birds chirp. The earth has been freshly washed and the bayou runs high and I marvel at the many waters flowing underneath my feet. The bridge bounces as past me runs another who loves the early mornings. The sky’s face is veiled behind a thin layer of clouds. Some would say this early morning grey is a bit of a dull affair especially when the air has chilled so. I would beg to differ. There is a special kind of beauty in early morning sky when the predominant colours are soft grey and pale gold. My heart sings in harmony with the notes of this new day. I close my eyes and lean over the bridge and let my imagination run afore me as I ponder the now and not yet and think on all that is to come when I am truly home. I open my eyes and see in the far distance the skyline rising through the fog. There is a shimmer or sort of sparkle as a ray of sun bounds through. And my eyes change color too. From grey to green they progress in the light of morning’s fullness.

Thanksgiving

James HoganLeave a comment

the bread broken and the wine poured
up to the table i walk once again
still it feels as the first time
the wonder and the love that somehow
this feast before me is rightfully mine
but why when my feet are dirty and my eyes dry?
the wrong assumption of course
it is not my eyes that looked with love as they spat upon him
it is not my feet that were pierced through with heavy iron
so i do not claim anything of mine own as merit sufficient
if i did that would not be a rightful claim
only pride
instead i clutch a ticket stub that has stamped upon it
paid in full
by that divine one Jesus Christ
with whom one day I shall dine as we break bread
and he looks me in the eye
and we toast each other and each take a sip of wine
someday soon i pray but for now
i cling to his feet and sing once more
the song that is forever mine
he loves me yes i know

A Mock Severity Demonstrated

James HoganLeave a comment

See how the storms howl outside? Yes of course I’ll be safe, but let me open the door for a second, just a second I promise! And let me stick my head out to feel the spray of the rain on my face and feel the raw wind in all its glory. Too often the safety and security of our modern life aids in our forgetting the fragility of our frames. We are used to being master of all we survey. Stand for a moment as the thunder rolls and you will not feel as if you are much of a master at all. Perhaps it is good to feel small now and then. I close the door once more. Only a little wet, see? Now I don’t need to take a shower for the water falling from the heavens was sufficient to wash me clean. No I won’t shake myself on the mat. Throw me a towel and I’ll dry off and then let’s turn the oven on as we prepare for dinner. I like the natural beauty of the outdoors but I also crave simple comforts like dry clothes and hot food. Electricity is pretty nice too.

Westering

James HoganLeave a comment

she knows it won’t be long before again
the sun shall slip below
the horizon
but before that moment
a gasp of beauty
a slash of light
once more sings my heart this night
the glory of the stars most visible
when it is darkest after all
even as we peer up from the bottom of the well
do your eyes fill up as mine do?
someday we shall ascend the ladder too

Dreams

James HoganLeave a comment

I wish I could dream in color like I hear all the cool kids do. Unfortunately I can’t even claim to remember my dreams apart from the odd occasion when I have the luxury of drifting back to sleep after waking earlier than my alarm clock, a very rare happenstance indeed since usually I am up and showered all before five am. So my dreams? They vanish into the fog of last night’s sleep as dreams are prone to do. And though I’m sure it would be amusing to know what my subconscious is working through and ponder what I have to look forward to, instead I force my eyes forward and dream for the moments later on when I may have time to write in black and white. These are the moments of bliss whereupon the thoughts in my brain are distilled onto the page or laptop screen and somehow present a snapshot of a moment as I in amusement let my eyes rest upon the words that prance free, born in a moment simply to be frozen forever in that museum gallery for a solitary pilgrim to enjoy as he may. I do wish at times my vocabulary was a bit broader and could better express the thoughts that burn within. Instead it seems as if the same old standbys get used again and again and I feel so shamed that I can’t write as some of the ancients used to. Even now I read a page from time to time that stirs my heart and I wonder what it is to wield such skill. Perhaps someday I shall write a line that is true. For now I simply write what is and let the words fall upon the page perhaps in disarray but you know what – there is a truth even there. I shall in humility fall to my knees knowing that I am not enough. Yet I look to the mirror and though it is broken and cracked, I still see a face that betrays hints of majesty for the one that has eyes to see. There are moments when I breath a quick prayer of thanksgiving that I even now live in communion with the God that knows my name. I still wish I dreamt in color. Yet this world though spinning wearily is not so bad when one considers the long road it’s trod. I do long for the wedding day. I do long for the day when all will be made new. I do so long for the day when the world in technicolor will sing for joy unbridled and for that day when I shall in glory look upon the face of the groom.

Three Steps to Summer

James HoganLeave a comment

A late afternoon has crept upon me and I find myself somehow surprised that it already has ticked near on 5pm. It is a simply gorgeous spring day here even if a bit warmer than I would desire. The sun still shines overhead and the breeze ruffles my shirt and reminds me that summer is not yet here. I almost let this afternoon slip away, drowsing away the weariness at home. Yet…upon looking outside and seeing the day blazing brilliant blue, how could I stay indoors? And so on go the shoes, with book and laptop tossed in backpack and away I went. It’s been a while since I’ve done the afternoon EQ walk. And though it isn’t quite EQ anymore – not sure I will ever be used to calling it Caffvino – it is lovely to sit here on the porch once more and enjoy the steady hum of the conversations round about. The music layers on and then also the traffic sounds are omnipresent as one may guess. I do find myself amused at the music playlist choices. While at one time it was punk and rock and emo angst, now…well, sounds more like hipster-folk-core or some such. Sounds like music one might listen to as they drive the mountain roads, camping gear slung on top. Definitely not the music of EQ of old.

Now what shall my fingers dance on to talk about? I suppose I might further share the loveliness of the day and chronicle my morning. I woke up later than typical but it was still early enough to enjoy a walk before the sun had fully risen above the horizon. A quick cup of coffee was brewed into my little to-go cup and onward I walked – MKT trail as is proper of a morning. Oh how beautiful sang the day! It was just cool enough that I relished the warm sips of coffee I would take from time to time and yet just warm enough to make me think of springtime. And speaking of springtime…as I walked down the trail, I caught a whiff of loveliness and stopped of a sudden. Could it be? And yes it was. The first scent of jasmine of spring. Always a delight and it will never not be one of my favourite moments of the year. I looked to my right and saw the very first delicate blooms of jasmine on the hedge that ran along the trail. How could my heart not sing? Ah how I love the jasmine flower and the memories that come with! With renewed joy I walked further down the trail down to the bridge, the spot from which many times I have stopped and thought and mused and prayed and this day I let my eyes dance as they gazed upon the bayou stretching towards downtown and the far-off buildings that seemed as dwarfs under the eastern sky. The sun now said hello in full and shimmered in a friendly manner and reminded me that a lovely day was at hand. I walked back and let my eyes rest upon the construction work that some may call a blight yet I find a treasure. The old buildings with the faded “COMPANY REFINERY” upon the side are now being renewed once more, the faded bricks glorified as the new windows are fitted and the surrounding ground turned over in preparation for what is to come – unknown to me yet I hope perhaps for something more than a retail park or office spaces. We shall see. Yet it gives me joy to see buildings not torn down and tossed asunder but renewed and made to rise again in splendour. I walked past the construction site and soon enough found myself almost home. I stopped to stretch and laughed to myself at how good my legs felt in the process. Does this mean my legs are not quite as young as they used to be that I find such pleasure in the perfect feeling of completion that comes after a proper stretch? Perhaps, perhaps. I have been accused of not looking as young as I used to, after all. Later on in the day, I would receive a comment from someone who had not seen me in a while remarking upon my salt and pepper hair. Well, I will not deny that my years have crept up upon me. And I will in that acknowledgement look up to heaven and say a prayer and praise my God for all that He has granted me. This has been a good day. It has been a day that I have been reminded that even as I turn towards sunset there is a far country that calls my name.