tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29250822093156852442024-02-18T22:51:59.818-08:00Madness in the Right DirectionUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-12604356778131631782020-05-28T12:09:00.002-07:002020-08-11T08:02:03.106-07:00The mystery of the feast.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EeNOuzaUD_Zj02TI3KzkAwmawirVAabfYPCCVjemOsq0L5L-MCHDCgyXZUgP801OpOg_NLN6VCnSSUT18XPszJs3QdZaSqriwtbKM2zAmcmerzeHylx3UgYS9HMOnsi_AAENxF2CZUwL/s2048/Flammarion_Colored.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1715" data-original-width="2048" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EeNOuzaUD_Zj02TI3KzkAwmawirVAabfYPCCVjemOsq0L5L-MCHDCgyXZUgP801OpOg_NLN6VCnSSUT18XPszJs3QdZaSqriwtbKM2zAmcmerzeHylx3UgYS9HMOnsi_AAENxF2CZUwL/w400-h335/Flammarion_Colored.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">The Eucharist -the simplest commandment, the richest of our
rituals, and by far the most misunderstood. I was raised in a very Low Church environment.
“Do this in remembrance of me” carved into the bench of our small-town Church
of Christ. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Old people dutifully passing
brass containers of unblessed wafers and little shots of grape juice; a dying
faith in dying towns all across the heartland, modernist revivals wilting at
the waysides. Why? Has modernity collapsed under its own weight, leaving the
nihilism of postmodernism to fill the voids? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of little country churches, we have
meth. Instead of families, and communities with genuine purpose, direction and
meaning, we have a meaningless existence temporarily satiated by the false gods
of sports for the fathers, Netflix for the mothers and tiktoc for the children.
How did it happen? Possibly because we stripped the meaning out of one of the
most important sacraments of our faith. If there is not a real presenc</span><span face="" style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: medium;">e, or</span><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> a genuine meaning </span></span><span face="" style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">i</span></span><span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">n the sacrament, there will be no meaning in the motions behind it, they will soon cease, and the
muscles behind the motions will atrophy. </span><span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">As the church fell, the family fell, and as
the family fell, society fell.</span></div>
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<span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">The idea of the Eucharist is not simply a ritual that one
does by rote as in his morning ablutions. It is for one brief moment, heaven
and earth coming together with the angels and archangels, and all Company of Heaven
to magnify the glorious name of our savior Jesus Christ, saying “Holy, holy, holy,
Lord God of Hosts; Heaven and Earth are full of thy glory. Glory to thee, oh Lord
Most High </span><span face="" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">+</span><span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;"> blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the
highest.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span face="" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: large;">During this absolutely supernatural moment of praise,
veneration, and worship of God the Father, we eat the flesh of his dear Son
Jesus Christ, and drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in
us. It is a chemical wedding where the sublime and the profane intermingle and
for a brief moment we transcend this earthly shell and get a peek though the
veil. That moment of transcendence stays with us, and we carry
a little bit of Christ with us out into the wilderness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It strengthens and fortifies us to forgive the
unforgivable, to love the loveless and to follow the first and greatest commandment
to love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with
all your mind, and with all your strength and to love your neighbor as
yourself.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-30547422639080114462020-05-28T12:08:00.001-07:002020-05-28T12:08:18.079-07:00My Burning Desire <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My Lord and Savior<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Please align my will with yours, my heart with your heart,
my mind with your mind, that I may know true caritias, that my soul may be
purified, all flaws and contaminants burned away in the everlasting forge of
your sacred heart. May my love burn as your love burns; may it consume the
world. Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-23830815408061112162020-03-18T14:12:00.000-07:002020-05-28T12:02:11.851-07:00Lent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO62hzvoKRhOq3Rl1UiATeQe8GUeDpZJ9IWrXo8imsBCYizov3ADVZzUUnsWJljod8mNmNxVYN7Hsf7oHX6ks_w2uZFwnl4li5NqX5z50I93dj_uAsXDsRQQ91dt8vfqMqKvxVJalf0kkV/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO62hzvoKRhOq3Rl1UiATeQe8GUeDpZJ9IWrXo8imsBCYizov3ADVZzUUnsWJljod8mNmNxVYN7Hsf7oHX6ks_w2uZFwnl4li5NqX5z50I93dj_uAsXDsRQQ91dt8vfqMqKvxVJalf0kkV/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Lent, perhaps my favorite season in the Cristian year, a
time for reflection, sacrifice and service. One last push before the return of
our Invincible Sun, the birth of Ostara, and the other archetypes of spring, but
before we can get there, we must first purify. Suffering is called for, not
simply giving up sweets or the impossible task of surrendering coffee, but a
willful self-sacrifice to get a person and their family though the lean times
of the long dark purifying winter. February may be the ugliest time of the year,
scant traces of snow, copious amounts of mud, and a wet-cold that settles into
the bones. It is not just a time of self-sacrifice, but also giving of alms,
talking on extra service and all the while doing it for the sake of the service
itself, it is not simply to feed the ego by demonstrating piety to neighbors. While
the ashes are applied they are soon washed away, no sackcloth is worn, no
rending of the hair, sacrifice for its own sake, and quite heartfelt prayers to
our Redeemer who we have not loved with our whole hearts and service to our
neighbors who we have not loved as ourselves. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>40 days to learn and perfect new habits, 40
days to become a better man, 40 days to reset the clock. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The Third Day of Lent ~ Prayer of Contrition<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Maker of all
things, Judge of all men; We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and
wickedness, Which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed, By thought,
word, and deed, Against Thy Divine Majesty, Provoking most justly Thy wrath and
indignation against us. We do earnestly repent, And are heartily sorry for
these our misdoings; The remembrance of them is grievous unto us; The burden of
them is intolerable. Have mercy upon us, Have mercy upon us, most merciful
Father; For Thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ’s sake, Forgive us all that is past;
And grant that we may ever hereafter serve and please Thee In newness of life,
To the honour and glory of Thy Name; Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.<br />
~ Book of Common Prayer 1928</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-12191897487832511312019-06-05T11:07:00.001-07:002020-03-05T10:58:20.513-08:00Something of a Metallic Kind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have sin, things that I hide and bury deep down, things
that I do not want anyone to see, sins that even-though forgiven, are shrouded
in shame and regret.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">But the one that I overlook the most is the one that I am encouraged
to flaunt the most. I come from humble beginnings, rising up from literally
nothing, and even before I attained the age of majority I set out to amass a
string of accomplishments that would impress the most learned, brave, or adventurous.
My sin is Pride, pride in my accomplishments; baubles and medals to justify my acceptance,
trinkets to say “I’m good enough, not some white trash boy from nowhere Oklahoma.”
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many people bury their sins, push them
so far down that they bubble up in other putrid ways, but mine, I put in a
shadow box. I even have an expensive medal that says to the world that I am a good Christian;
even my faith is tinged with pride. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VyBE13IORbZy01k7n-DBVn19lpJzQ6XR6P4Lf1X7lvmQCMGcHpAZZZsdO7Xeg0Yxgg_3qoNFrIOQyTzb51aMbHuClSWTYSOXU3CrnNr7yuy7da5rZXJQEGZnMFBA7XC0ZzHnpFbKRCLK/s1600/Chen-tunnel-600x390+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="600" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VyBE13IORbZy01k7n-DBVn19lpJzQ6XR6P4Lf1X7lvmQCMGcHpAZZZsdO7Xeg0Yxgg_3qoNFrIOQyTzb51aMbHuClSWTYSOXU3CrnNr7yuy7da5rZXJQEGZnMFBA7XC0ZzHnpFbKRCLK/s400/Chen-tunnel-600x390+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to mediate on the idea that when I approach my creator,
when I die and see that white light and start ascending though that dark tunnel,
I am stripping off my military medals, my shoulder boards, my rings, all my
trappings, and haphazardly discard them to the side. That kings have their eyes
so fixed on the light that they are removing their crowns and dropping them in
the ditch, that professors are absently dropping their tams and trod them under
foot, that the pectoral crosses of bishops are strewn to the wayside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We are divesting ourselves of all metals, all accomplishments,
all our arrogance and are unworthily approaching our true master, to transition
from this realm to the next we must first be purified; purified though putrefaction
that is. Divested of our mortal coil, divested of our golden baubles, crowns
and all pride, stripped away to our purest form and prepared for the ultimate
rite of passage, joining with angels and archangels and with all the company of
heaven, we proclaim His great and glorious name, forever praising Him and
saying. “Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are
full of Your glory, Hosanna in the highest.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Streets of Glory are paved with gold <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The ditch along the road to paradise is lined with treasures
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the road to hell is paved with good intentions <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNLTtWCke2b3bTBEbvIteSXNrzqHjxekJgrL-Dv5JcFqt4DT0VUICJ14J5RX_zjOjTC7ie5JJor4AyXI62HyjUnXL1shJsiBBsafW4uVmnXa6x5BefhbigCkbNvCzDbaonMAARoTqNw_x/s1600/street+paved+with+gold.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNLTtWCke2b3bTBEbvIteSXNrzqHjxekJgrL-Dv5JcFqt4DT0VUICJ14J5RX_zjOjTC7ie5JJor4AyXI62HyjUnXL1shJsiBBsafW4uVmnXa6x5BefhbigCkbNvCzDbaonMAARoTqNw_x/s1600/street+paved+with+gold.jpeg" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-56082383950521639502018-12-31T15:44:00.001-08:002020-03-03T08:32:36.284-08:00Janus is With Us<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9doekAh1Tu5g6djhDDXjcvoPqyS_Rtgx8E5qTwD1nk7VQEq_0oLUk9EcusLtPDa02r_2qko0pj8UpKD9XBjE9NuBFCTPEWjC90H0PvNCsiuhqhhac3Jjip8ck_7IdRezUl4NLyqpmK0_o/s1600/Screen-Shot-2014-01-28-at-4.31.52-PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="725" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9doekAh1Tu5g6djhDDXjcvoPqyS_Rtgx8E5qTwD1nk7VQEq_0oLUk9EcusLtPDa02r_2qko0pj8UpKD9XBjE9NuBFCTPEWjC90H0PvNCsiuhqhhac3Jjip8ck_7IdRezUl4NLyqpmK0_o/s320/Screen-Shot-2014-01-28-at-4.31.52-PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://restorationarlington.org/2014/01/janus/" target="_blank">Restoration Anglican Church </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">We have just celebrated the birth of our salvation, his entering
our hearts with the Holy Spirit, and the imminent return that we long for. Through
the symbolic death of the year with its shortest day, and now the long, long
cold. It’s cold, purifies, and cleanses, an extremity in temperature, but
instead of cleansing by fire, it puts some of the cancerous imperfections into
a slumber that they never awakes from. Now is the season of Janus. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">Janus the primordial deity of transitions, beginnings, gates,
time, duality, and doorways, the archetype of birth death, light, dark, male
and female. One face gazing reflectively forever in the past, a melancholic
meditation on long-ago mistakes, a regret of things not said, missed opportunities,
potential lovers not kissed, an “I love you” not uttered before a sudden death.
Janus the eternal and reigning king of hindsight, a keen eye on the things that
should have been done, should have been said, and regret. However our month’s archetype
is not simply a melancholic cliché; forever sad and beautiful, his other face
stares forever into the future.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sees all, and evermore
into what awaits; not just this future but other realities, dimensions and
universes, one small choice having a cascading effect on infinite probabilities;
thoughts, feelings, and actions spiraling out in endless cycles. Dominoes stacked
and falling in infinite arraignments, more tiles and possibilities than there
are connections in ones brain. The archetype that sees the architecture. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">As one sits next to his hearth, fortifying himself with a peaty
scotch, or a hearty stew during the long, long cold with its short days and purifying
snow; may he not fall compulsively into depressive cycles of ruminations, but also
planning for his future. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rCbSHcY2gjsnf8-93UbKIs8hi-b2o-idJdxHY-fcQuiIqaVp3Rl8PHqpjhEwRLUuE0pGLB8pOt9sBOBHCc_LhpalD1Gb7wfZ3zQAMs3OfWFC8IBJlSrsMduQg12y3Q-gaHSaJooHwMGG/s1600/34422135-bc1b-404b-867e-bb102d674808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rCbSHcY2gjsnf8-93UbKIs8hi-b2o-idJdxHY-fcQuiIqaVp3Rl8PHqpjhEwRLUuE0pGLB8pOt9sBOBHCc_LhpalD1Gb7wfZ3zQAMs3OfWFC8IBJlSrsMduQg12y3Q-gaHSaJooHwMGG/s320/34422135-bc1b-404b-867e-bb102d674808.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/samimatias/" target="_blank">Link to source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><span style="color: #999999;"><a href="http://www.george-macdonald.com/articles/lilith_docherty.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #999999;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">W</span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">hile the cold will make one heave a great sigh of relief to find oneself in the dark vault with the pale dead. The cold seeming to soothe all care, melt away every pain, comfort every sorrow</span></span></a><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">, </span></span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">but alas </span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">The bright days of spring with the sun in the south at
meridian which is the beauty and glory of the day await his plowshare.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">January is the perfect time for reflection, the perfect time
for planning, and the perfect time for resolutions. Make peace with those you
have wronged, or those who have wronged you. Make peace with yourself. And love,
love with all that you have, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for one day
the archetype of doorways will compel you to enter and you don’t want to be an “I
love you” not uttered before a sudden death.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-60357046400735623142018-12-18T13:32:00.001-08:002018-12-18T13:52:01.910-08:00The Awaiting <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9avxGRI_zN9G05d3u7dULv6YT1q_4zqI8Khd75Hs_-E9jiE7m8bA-yFSYatVn2qAu9kie8iyGWaYsRMu9TIsx02QteAOGBgCGhES3npptyMpunBX7lndJSaEsihNuh67sJG3eM-5zKHG/s1600/tumblr_ngxsbm8Dyn1tmefv7o1_640.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9avxGRI_zN9G05d3u7dULv6YT1q_4zqI8Khd75Hs_-E9jiE7m8bA-yFSYatVn2qAu9kie8iyGWaYsRMu9TIsx02QteAOGBgCGhES3npptyMpunBX7lndJSaEsihNuh67sJG3eM-5zKHG/s400/tumblr_ngxsbm8Dyn1tmefv7o1_640.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">With the season of death and morning past us, which has
opened our hearts for immense gratitude that our loved-ones and we ourselves
haven’t answered the ceaseless calling of Santa Muerte,
Baron Samedi, or better known as Death. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Our great Harvest, our American Eucharist has been celebrated
though the national holiday of Thanksgiving. A time to set aside the mundane,
profane, and appreciate kith and kindred, all the blessings God has bestowed upon us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Now Advent is upon us, it’s not just Christmas, not
just a time for materialism, forced family commingling with drunken pilgrimages
to midnight mass, or all the other trappings that come with the secularization of
observing the birth of our Redeemer. It’s a time for reflection, anticipation, and
celebrating the three comings of Christ. A celebration and observance of his
first coming over 2000 years ago, also the deeply personal, easily overlooked, and
mysterious manner in which he makes his way into our hearts daily; the source
of our salvation in the here and now. Just as importantly it is also his coming
at the end of days when all of this pain is washed away, no more broken people breaking
others, no more hurt people hurting others, a return to the way it was meant to
be. You know that hole you feel in you right now? One day that void will be
satiated.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPm3lqB0Hh_gjH7Xf_MkpvyfnYYRm3MNw9B0e5ZgKRbbTGrD_h5njnFSlclXWqjuoVkPqPZRFxDZGZY7EQ3xauqsoaxMZbTcKckrN5xY1GqCvouiA_OQ9HnhzozP5WJCBhyphenhyphenAqcRUP9lqLu/s1600/tumblr_p51swyV8351wrsdaco1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPm3lqB0Hh_gjH7Xf_MkpvyfnYYRm3MNw9B0e5ZgKRbbTGrD_h5njnFSlclXWqjuoVkPqPZRFxDZGZY7EQ3xauqsoaxMZbTcKckrN5xY1GqCvouiA_OQ9HnhzozP5WJCBhyphenhyphenAqcRUP9lqLu/s320/tumblr_p51swyV8351wrsdaco1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Advent is a time for reflection and preparation, there is a nervousness in the air, a little anxiety that moves though like static electricity. We look inward and hope our souls are prepared. The Invincible Sun will rise again, the cancer will be burned away, and we will reunite with our creator. Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. </span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-8320859939168585922018-11-09T11:35:00.000-08:002020-02-27T10:24:35.514-08:00Keep Your Knife Sharp <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oEsgx-fOvFlUqQH7_KYTV8GFPl2accbFUZvQ6wEXmIMoaNHi4TgqJKIZHX6y2B7hY40f1_EYB_SrbLsCA5nLgs5ThhPSW5dMz2UGJMsv0Sz1KBR-Qjij7th9DcbhqFcle6Z56m-Tf6VH/s1600/FB_IMG_1542024997598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="1101" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oEsgx-fOvFlUqQH7_KYTV8GFPl2accbFUZvQ6wEXmIMoaNHi4TgqJKIZHX6y2B7hY40f1_EYB_SrbLsCA5nLgs5ThhPSW5dMz2UGJMsv0Sz1KBR-Qjij7th9DcbhqFcle6Z56m-Tf6VH/s400/FB_IMG_1542024997598.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> When I reflect upon my own impending age; I sometimes fret and
angst about not pairing up and starting a family. How long does one have while they
are in their prime?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> 36, not too old, I just turned it and ran 10 miles
yesterday, sure it hurts more, but that’s the price of being a beast.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Jared Leto is 46, has been working since the early 90s and is
still breaking hearts </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> So is Travis Fimmel who can be recognized from the show
Vikings</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> And The Rock is 49.</span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-Tbj6Xf1Qb5vhhnkqIvXkRRMHTgFI_8aWNptrU1CuugTNyr5aeGgQZ5BgohBQIjvK06-Q7J4ZBSnm0GHDvIj2llPCKeBLOcWbQkhJnezupNwmVv6ucdTozRDK-wgbXX6inp3nYe1vqgn/s1600/old+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq-Tbj6Xf1Qb5vhhnkqIvXkRRMHTgFI_8aWNptrU1CuugTNyr5aeGgQZ5BgohBQIjvK06-Q7J4ZBSnm0GHDvIj2llPCKeBLOcWbQkhJnezupNwmVv6ucdTozRDK-wgbXX6inp3nYe1vqgn/s200/old+man.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/174866398010101907/" target="_blank">link to source </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> There are two ways to live your life, are you like fruit?
Where you quickly become ripe firm and luscious? All the things that society
pines for in the movies, only to quickly be harvested, pass your genetic
material on and then live vicariously through your offspring, while you watch
from the sidelines and gain<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>40lbs.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> One of the greatest sins of our age is that we do not encourage physical fitness after post secondary education.</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Then we pacify ourselves with television, smart phones and medications because we know something is lacking, but we can’t quite put our finger on it.</span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Is this the path you chose?</span></div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Or do you take your fruit; the fruit of your labor, of your
body, your mind, and refine it. Are you fresh grapes in the field awaiting
the beasts to consume you, or are you a well aged wine? Are your best years
behind you, or ahead of you? Are you in a hurry to spill the fruit of your
loins like the profane, or are you preserving them for a mate of quality, for
someone deserving of all that is you? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you grain in the field, or a twenty
year old single malt, the choice is yours. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Hone your body like the Smith forges a blade, hours and
hours of refining, amalgamating, tempering, hours on the stone, anything of
quality takes time, love, and pain. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Everyday you should be stronger than the man you were
yesterday, you should be smarter than the man you were yesterday and you need
to be a little more spiritual than you were yesterday. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Everyday, sweat, cry, cum, use all your glands; Everyday
read, learn, teach, stretch you mind and imagination; everyday pray, meditate,
reflect, become more spiritually and emotionally resilient than the man you were
yesterday. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Don’t be in such a hurry to pair up, breed, live a short
while through your children, and then die. There is so much more than that, so
much adventure. Don’t just live though your children, sweep your family up in
the adventure, a quest isn’t one man’s journey, it is for your wife, it is for
your children, lead them, it is the natural order and what they yearn for. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> If you do not have a family yet save yourself for someone worthy, have strong beautiful
children when you are stable; both financially, and emotionally. Keep your knife
sharp, and seek danger from a position of power. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> Stop looking for the perfect person and daily strive to be the perfect person, then yours will find you when the time is right. </span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">And most importantly love, love with all that
is in you, love until there is nothing left, love is all that we have. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ztx60A6PYuXE1nkyLuaMf1rJb9V-tXG5Q7l4AJwLl5WA801edwxYWD9q9R-q-m7JQT2D4sqo6YGvlUNJPuk823ZcK_zG4ZFHRO2xtvmLkyjUUbojxcG7s2OF7ZUBQW2o4ObobdLXMUpi/s1600/Coyote13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="810" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ztx60A6PYuXE1nkyLuaMf1rJb9V-tXG5Q7l4AJwLl5WA801edwxYWD9q9R-q-m7JQT2D4sqo6YGvlUNJPuk823ZcK_zG4ZFHRO2xtvmLkyjUUbojxcG7s2OF7ZUBQW2o4ObobdLXMUpi/s400/Coyote13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.wctv.tv/home/headlines/Coyote-Drags-2-Year-Old-Girl-At-S-Calif-Cemetery-216578631.html" target="_blank">coyote</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-36783492603730634222018-11-02T09:00:00.001-07:002018-11-02T09:01:08.482-07:00The Autumn of our Culture <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHmbyr00d4QHOcU1phgFfOtLaPbc3WzSSO66ZZAp1TTXjoVD3ToHnf9h0e7VRxw5Z_773NWm5zwm9V_ZbB3JryWp6TVb5JlJ30TZs5AOGwMLwiXAZ5jWY8xD2MBkmo0RNywtlQ7SV1kSU/s1600/timthumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="1328" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHmbyr00d4QHOcU1phgFfOtLaPbc3WzSSO66ZZAp1TTXjoVD3ToHnf9h0e7VRxw5Z_773NWm5zwm9V_ZbB3JryWp6TVb5JlJ30TZs5AOGwMLwiXAZ5jWY8xD2MBkmo0RNywtlQ7SV1kSU/s400/timthumb.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.wordonfire.org/resources/blog/its-time-for-catholics-to-embrace-halloween/2133/" target="_blank">link to source </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">We just finished my favorite holiday All Hallows Eve,
Samhain, or Halloween if you prefer. Yesterday we remembered all the saints;
may we join them in Christ's eternal glory. Today we pray for, remember, and
celebrate all the souls; all those that have gone before us, Los Dia de los
Muertos, or the Day of the Dead.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3tg6_jEvMJHgMxocAl2BlAbAWvDZZYf9gXUJwCf0ErGh8VhLOmZdOfMm1krXBgK1TTlRCUKsHbOAHX4N-ArE7EN9naYRoHuFeOKsJ3VECiJOdoOzAHpOV7G0_9UQWG9UgerurBkK9lZ4/s1600/45282853_2134712059896973_7788031384286658560_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="960" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3tg6_jEvMJHgMxocAl2BlAbAWvDZZYf9gXUJwCf0ErGh8VhLOmZdOfMm1krXBgK1TTlRCUKsHbOAHX4N-ArE7EN9naYRoHuFeOKsJ3VECiJOdoOzAHpOV7G0_9UQWG9UgerurBkK9lZ4/s200/45282853_2134712059896973_7788031384286658560_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://medium.com/swlh/memento-mori-the-ancient-practice-for-living-life-to-the-fullest-3c50e999fe69" target="_blank">Memento Mori</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One would think that our seasonal dying is drawing to a close, but far from it.
It is time to put your skeletons back in your closet, put your red poppies on,
and prepare for Remembrance Day celebrations, or in America, Veterans Day. Nine
days to revere our service members and allies who gave so much for our way of
life.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMzdKJPiBzwCA13ZZ9_c3g_D7RUw6IZ8JaktrV9asl51cr0XizFm87qvNOqmEPTEFKBVxVDLuyTMLQDsIe3LdGCZPYR-Ctd9F4Pt7Z6TMOhITef7opKqRF19EMUq6JnBC8Jw6F6gMhF2b/s1600/45335702_2134712133230299_5216676580620763136_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="960" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMzdKJPiBzwCA13ZZ9_c3g_D7RUw6IZ8JaktrV9asl51cr0XizFm87qvNOqmEPTEFKBVxVDLuyTMLQDsIe3LdGCZPYR-Ctd9F4Pt7Z6TMOhITef7opKqRF19EMUq6JnBC8Jw6F6gMhF2b/s320/45335702_2134712133230299_5216676580620763136_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://canadiannanny.ca/how-to-explain-remembrance-day-to-children" target="_blank">How to Explain Remembrance Day to Kids</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><br />
It is through the reflection of where we have been and what we have lost, that
makes a way for our gratitude.<br />
After an allegorical dying and with grateful hearts we can come together and
celebrate the bountiful season of life, and beauty that was summer in a Great
Thanksgiving; our country's Eucharist. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSvioe56sM1iQS2eDh6GNpR8Fdotv14kpMokrRx0kkC4tpMj202Dt1Q8LChIxuQBG3crgOZXQL1tZVS7_ttV8GvOi2XfO5yfw9wocRv8zWrEkMzXsmK2vGJx_7bQKn8v0GVX1aXCj8ptN/s1600/Thanksgiving-Dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSvioe56sM1iQS2eDh6GNpR8Fdotv14kpMokrRx0kkC4tpMj202Dt1Q8LChIxuQBG3crgOZXQL1tZVS7_ttV8GvOi2XfO5yfw9wocRv8zWrEkMzXsmK2vGJx_7bQKn8v0GVX1aXCj8ptN/s320/Thanksgiving-Dinner.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://mycardioexpress.com/thanksgiving-dinner-really-4500-calories/" target="_blank">link to source </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><br />
This opens our hearts and prepares us to receive the Redeemer and celebrate the
birth of our salvation through Christ's Mass.<br />
Happy holidays everyone.</span></div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-86819853076584356942017-05-16T13:05:00.003-07:002020-02-18T13:55:48.892-08:00There be Monsters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: x-large;">There be Monsters</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0AcPoNY6ycfiiwuIYcGwSbH_fOrnvdy6xAwvUnmjnNWfr7WqmwvWjIaL6HjAR149TLyPruGKFqJrKSspYcPpvgh4JfxOp3ov_pbv6WmEga5QaSi29Sm6V7LI74nkPgTNTZpNT79uY1nXh/s1600/tumblr_omixtvPZ2S1w5n1g1o1_400.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0AcPoNY6ycfiiwuIYcGwSbH_fOrnvdy6xAwvUnmjnNWfr7WqmwvWjIaL6HjAR149TLyPruGKFqJrKSspYcPpvgh4JfxOp3ov_pbv6WmEga5QaSi29Sm6V7LI74nkPgTNTZpNT79uY1nXh/s320/tumblr_omixtvPZ2S1w5n1g1o1_400.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">Things that creepith in the soil, under the seas, things in
the shadows, the unknown; the unknown is what terrifies us. Yet the evil we do
know, we have profaned, subjugated to humor, and into sexualized melancholy. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">The archetype of the </span><a href="http://jungian.info/library.cfm?idsLibrary=9" style="color: #990000;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">vampire</span></a><span style="color: #eeeeee;">,</span></span><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> the soulless insatiable all-consuming</span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #eeeeee; float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuNlVkwXAuxG-beQvwwltS5RkxPHTjgCHgzEJScNDzsLz0368RVgxrkBXvQKTl7XxCGvEnLLANpOg-OeES7TFFDGTvhwDYBIA_69aYMyzQhJPxLEaZGjD8CN5lSwRSTh92NVz6kUJ_11n/s1600/tumblr_onj9o3BR021uutnkko1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuNlVkwXAuxG-beQvwwltS5RkxPHTjgCHgzEJScNDzsLz0368RVgxrkBXvQKTl7XxCGvEnLLANpOg-OeES7TFFDGTvhwDYBIA_69aYMyzQhJPxLEaZGjD8CN5lSwRSTh92NVz6kUJ_11n/s200/tumblr_onj9o3BR021uutnkko1_500.gif" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: xx-small;">http://jungian.info/library.cfm?idsLibrary=9</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">
monster that is universal in </span><a href="https://youtu.be/_0ThKRmySoU" target="_blank"><span style="color: #660000;">every sect</span></a><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> and society and dating back to at least
Babylon has been with us. The question is why, why has he been lingering in the
shadows, under the stares, and in graveyards? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">The idea of the restless spirit that has suffered
insurmountable trauma, and thus perpetuates this pain has already been explored
in depth. The idea that it consumes the sanguine life force of virile humans for
self sustainment has also been explored in depth. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZQd4ztppOxRZzw4asvdPBuwEaFDLaKDuBvdIoddagQTklWlDYJOTsZgUqlv38Zna-K6FzpHwbZO4fwosFx8wSl3X6K_jdA9LPpzFY00_PCFwSZTz2I28fiCITxQbxwBJ5mhRtx8Sc0Rg/s1600/tumblr_onfer2Z8in1qak214o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtZQd4ztppOxRZzw4asvdPBuwEaFDLaKDuBvdIoddagQTklWlDYJOTsZgUqlv38Zna-K6FzpHwbZO4fwosFx8wSl3X6K_jdA9LPpzFY00_PCFwSZTz2I28fiCITxQbxwBJ5mhRtx8Sc0Rg/s320/tumblr_onfer2Z8in1qak214o1_1280.jpg" width="196" /></a><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Yet what makes the vampire so alluring, so terrifying is the
fact that he looks like us. He is the cliché of the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He
is soulless, insatiable, and hurts beautiful things because he is drawn to them
like a moth to a flame; for the same reason that lower spirits and beings are drawn
to higher levels. They do not understand
why they are where they are, or they have been exiled there due to unforgivable
indiscretions, and desire to be on high levels of existence. The vampire whether
traditional, psychic, or even sparkly, is a psychopath. He/she has succumbed to
</span><a href="https://youtu.be/4E1JiDFxFGk?list=PLBhRQU7LBLE0L2xytgaV3dNB7bv89Yiyn" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Antisocial Personality Disorder </span></a></span><span style="color: #eeeeee;">(or other personality disorders) </span><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">a soulless
insatiable all-consuming monster that is universal in every sect and society and
dates back to at least Babylon. Our ancestors warned us of such monsters and
did their best to remove them from the gene pool, yet we have, and continue to
glorify them. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghQS98_NGrBDO3UJgZGhGue7A23gBxKm21EiupPfluIng4t2H5Xm-yxSIVz2ahZKGo9vVa_quujTuEksyK2bEGyu907cPGah4TD4dNgHh-J0idgUkTkKsHipwbMe_GPmAgLssRfk1ElI_/s1600/american-psycho-1200-1200-675-675-crop-000000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghQS98_NGrBDO3UJgZGhGue7A23gBxKm21EiupPfluIng4t2H5Xm-yxSIVz2ahZKGo9vVa_quujTuEksyK2bEGyu907cPGah4TD4dNgHh-J0idgUkTkKsHipwbMe_GPmAgLssRfk1ElI_/s320/american-psycho-1200-1200-675-675-crop-000000.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Now that they have been sexualized and humanized though
sympathy for the devil, they are in a sense seen as a </span><a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/get-hardy/201502/fifty-shades-grey" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">dark protagonist</span></a><span style="color: #eeeeee;">, the
unlovable who can be redeemed through love, yet we have forgot that these creatures
are at the lower plains because they are irredeemable. This is now to the monster’s
advantage, the sheep are literally lining up for the wolves, asking to receive
the love bite, the kiss of death. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkLZhcFkm-1QyJuUnJJEIBYgP2xfDoZvdFLtiPsTNOqiClBJ6xBArpTAmqsU9kCecz4uvFCt0Ms-wOtSXdA0_7xQSx8HnMeos2OsDJNfcpCMDiB1MmxwfPND_GKW_WW6sm-afokmfQHo6/s1600/Fifty_Shades_of_Grey_40313_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkLZhcFkm-1QyJuUnJJEIBYgP2xfDoZvdFLtiPsTNOqiClBJ6xBArpTAmqsU9kCecz4uvFCt0Ms-wOtSXdA0_7xQSx8HnMeos2OsDJNfcpCMDiB1MmxwfPND_GKW_WW6sm-afokmfQHo6/s1600/Fifty_Shades_of_Grey_40313_0.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: xx-small;">https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/get-hardy/201502/fifty-shades-grey</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">And the cycle continues.</span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-22279495161980231542016-06-17T05:45:00.001-07:002019-06-27T12:47:11.914-07:00Into the Abyss <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XEGPg0dIeSIev08ApTNU7jDQQx-Ld5P1UGQff6eBxGcIMkf6MOyTzuDJr1ORSqQMm2V9khAmAWBZOQ-ttu5C9fHpNnehHXoHDOjf4X481_F2CED3PaAbV3XzKqH626m2gerq6gSZu22N/s1600/black+hole.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XEGPg0dIeSIev08ApTNU7jDQQx-Ld5P1UGQff6eBxGcIMkf6MOyTzuDJr1ORSqQMm2V9khAmAWBZOQ-ttu5C9fHpNnehHXoHDOjf4X481_F2CED3PaAbV3XzKqH626m2gerq6gSZu22N/s320/black+hole.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">We date like we are trying on shoes, we even have a term for it now, "hooking up". There is no courtship, such concepts as commitment, dedication, and investment are antiquated. This has been going on since the 60s but it is devolving progressively from free love to free carnalism. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">But while we are escaping nihilism with chemicals, and f*cking our way into a temporary respite from the fact that we have forgot how to genuinely love. We have disconnected from the reality that the practice of breeding eventually leads to children. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">Children without fathers, children that are not wanted. Young girls that confuse affection for love.Young boys who's ONLY social interaction is Grand Theft Auto, Call of Duty and the like.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">Why are there so many shootings, why wouldn't there be? There is no love left. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">Every day I try to repair this irreparable damage, but the fire is beyond us, it is burning faster than we can stomp it out. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">Guns, Muslims, right, left, they are bandaids over the bullet hole, everyone is screaming about the symptoms and not addressing the cause. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">Just maybe we should worry about our marriage, and not just the wedding day, or strive to be old people holding hands in the park, as opposed to bragging rights for gathering the most vagina. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">We have been "progressing" for over 50 years now, do we feel any safer, do we feel genuine love? Do we even feel free?</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-15128728355365852242016-05-24T08:27:00.000-07:002020-02-18T07:39:19.655-08:00Nihilism <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNkxrE-dtEToeVxJCEkgduhwH9cKqmj5lZGJmuvfdbaOfGcvOCxMJeVLoZlDvCZXBoNKYEEpxmhduh9WCdL0SXOeXIcOhM3Qv37Oo2FNwJE3LfeMNkyWKX6oQ2BMX_G1-4FRYSbioLTI_e/s1600/1+%2528Wuthering+Heights%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNkxrE-dtEToeVxJCEkgduhwH9cKqmj5lZGJmuvfdbaOfGcvOCxMJeVLoZlDvCZXBoNKYEEpxmhduh9WCdL0SXOeXIcOhM3Qv37Oo2FNwJE3LfeMNkyWKX6oQ2BMX_G1-4FRYSbioLTI_e/s1600/1+%2528Wuthering+Heights%2529.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> When a man’s heart is broken it is not beautifully
tragic, it doesn’t have the sweet smell of autumn leaves in decay. When a woman
breaks a man’s heart somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks he will go
off and build a giant house or find some extravagant way to win her back,
because Nicholas Sparks and many others have told her that is what would
happen. But Nicholas Sparks was a man, his admiration is first in his loins, so
when his heart finally succumbs it’s based on more lofty ideals, his mind has processed
why he is in love, his heart is drawn to those little giggles, little looks,
the way the corner of her mouth turns when she is about to smile. When men fall
they fall completely. Their marriage, their family becomes their identity;
imagine a love so strong that it becomes you. The old you has withered away,
and there is nothing else. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> If you don’t
believe me compare the suicide rates of men vs. women, there are a lot of
Romeos going to the Streets of Glory without their Juliets.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> But Nicholas sparks is an idealist, is a man. A much
more keen observer of heartbreak, and its after affect on men was a woman. Emily
Brontë. The poor tortured soul of her
Heathcliff, who has fallen with his loins, his mind, and his heart, is so
completely consumed by his heartache that it twists within him. It spreads like
invasive roots through him, and widens the cracks of his fractured ego. He is
so inwardly consumed by his pain that it manifests outwardly in his thoughts,
words, and deeds. He is not a demon or incubus as some scholars have theorized,
demons know their purpose. He is a man spurned by his true love, lost and
lashing out. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;"> When women meet a man like Heathcliff, a man like
me, they know from the outset that he is poison, that he, I, will break a
string of hearts with our brooding eyes and the blackness behind them, but they
will not care, not in the short run, they will succumb, because men who have
not yet suffered told them that the wounded beast can be tamed, and we will one
day build them a house. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-44673228582460767382016-03-01T14:31:00.000-08:002018-02-13T14:45:05.753-08:00Wuthering Trauma <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8iMAJB-MNAJOC15HwLtl5kD1w9NSh7joJFo-AGLPk9RqNsp65K-8LLs-lp7b8sWH02gJKI4EnTkuXVu_lbaF_rS2DQVDGXH0dJHLNN5-P6qbfQ2fER4-EjqqHsj6EhPQuNxqZ0dpY-R8/s1600/tumblr_nvoy6ckDhV1sagi1uo2_540.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8iMAJB-MNAJOC15HwLtl5kD1w9NSh7joJFo-AGLPk9RqNsp65K-8LLs-lp7b8sWH02gJKI4EnTkuXVu_lbaF_rS2DQVDGXH0dJHLNN5-P6qbfQ2fER4-EjqqHsj6EhPQuNxqZ0dpY-R8/s400/tumblr_nvoy6ckDhV1sagi1uo2_540.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">When we think of ghosts, </span><a href="http://theshadowlands.net/ghost/residual.htm" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">hauntings</span></a><span style="color: #eeeeee;">, and things that
terrify us when we are alone in the dark, the things that makes us race to the
light switch at the end of the hall, the things that make out hearts race or
pulse quicken. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">A common theme is the poor soul who has gone through
something so violent, so terrible that they cannot move on; they cannot go into
the light and reach their full potential. What a terribly sad forlorn idea, it
is melancholic because it is darkly beautiful; the idea of some jilted lover
killing her adulterous husband and now the spirits locked together, forever in
a dark dance playing out the heart ache. Over and over it plays, lost souls
trying to find their way out, or home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Every day we see this with the living as well, some
poor girl having her innocence robbed too young, now plagued with eating
disorders and confusing affection with love. The young boy beaten by an
alcoholic mother and neglected by an absent father, and now he punches holes
into the walls and his lovers. On and on it goes; the soldier whose war
followed him home and is now hyper-vigilant, the cop drowning himself in
whiskey every night, the exotic dancer watching herself in the mirror. These clichés
are tragic, melancholic, and far too often the norm. We are haunted in our lives
and we haunt after our deaths.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Trauma is such a powerful thing, it is as powerful
as hate, as powerful as love, it transcends all language, culture, and even
death. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-54075983965843173372015-10-07T17:27:00.000-07:002018-12-04T12:16:23.467-08:00COR JESV FURNAX ARDENS CHARITATIS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEnnWypRCYyAszMEGsrhExbPjQpURKtJk3TkSzwPpX9EoeTkF8hylAIq_w2g6ZdKuyowTaELLhvfVPeJAc3QHsnWm17Puv1uTnvC8LAY1LpHTcgwln4VbhVh-VduO5uDn9GVzHJ8bIZam/s1600/fire-animated-gif-10.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzEnnWypRCYyAszMEGsrhExbPjQpURKtJk3TkSzwPpX9EoeTkF8hylAIq_w2g6ZdKuyowTaELLhvfVPeJAc3QHsnWm17Puv1uTnvC8LAY1LpHTcgwln4VbhVh-VduO5uDn9GVzHJ8bIZam/s1600/fire-animated-gif-10.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;">Caritas,
there is no word in the English language quite like it, it is like love, but
more, it is like charity, but more. It is love for all things in this world; it
burns with passion, and is fueled by the Holy Spirit. When you have Caritas it
fills you from your toenails to the ends of your hair, and it beams out of you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;"> When you have Caritas you have love for the
soil between your toes, for the things that creepith next to you, for the
sinner and the saint. To bring all to the love of Christ, that is a passionate
heart; to love something so much it hurts. And Christ’s own sacred heart loved
the world so much that he let it consume his mortal coil. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;">Heart
of Jesus, glowing furnace of charity, have mercy on us </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-9618116590022945792015-09-04T11:48:00.000-07:002015-09-04T14:14:39.452-07:00Reflections of Loss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuI8WZ3zJq-94COVSgTRMnbDGRaPsg6LMJ732yt3l1ab21VObcmVp0UNf7j3FlJjDrS-MIqFEIQtEgwmQUM5TE3tH0iYba1e0G7uWaRZwL7hxoBYFc5d-5uxVjqtmIBK5eeEDjlPLYwuO/s1600/https%25253A%25252F%25252F31.media.tumblr.com%25252F813e0819985fabd16a3f2800a719b965%25252Ftumblr_nju854MhYf1u9b9ceo1_400.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuI8WZ3zJq-94COVSgTRMnbDGRaPsg6LMJ732yt3l1ab21VObcmVp0UNf7j3FlJjDrS-MIqFEIQtEgwmQUM5TE3tH0iYba1e0G7uWaRZwL7hxoBYFc5d-5uxVjqtmIBK5eeEDjlPLYwuO/s1600/https%25253A%25252F%25252F31.media.tumblr.com%25252F813e0819985fabd16a3f2800a719b965%25252Ftumblr_nju854MhYf1u9b9ceo1_400.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember my beautiful girlfriend at some stranger’s
house; they had a small lake in their back yard with a huge diving platform way
up in the air. It was so high that when I kissed her, the fireworks from Independence
Day were reaching their apex all around us. There was so much wonder, so much
in her eyes, her lips, the pyrotechnics, the reflection in the water. The world
was brand new, and I am crying right now thinking about it. At that very moment
I knew I was meant to marry her. That kiss, that love, it was, and is so powerful.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our son was conceived on Halloween, and the same
night we moved into the house I bought for her. We made love in our new room, in our new home and future. I remember staring into her eyes by candlelight,
and having the feeling of our whole lives awaiting us, and the pure<i> <span style="color: #cc0000;">love</span></i><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span>that I felt for my fiancé. Our son
was conceived in <i><a href="http://americanchivalry.blogspot.com/2011/11/love-and-honor.html"><span style="color: red;">pure love</span></a></i>. I could
feel it in the air like electricity, and heavy like the scent of roses. There was
literally magic in the air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">5 months later (yes I said 5, never underestimate the
power of denial) we found out that she was pregnant, we were both scared, surprised,
and crying, even though the night before I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. I remember
we were sitting in her Jeep Compass after the sonogram, and she mentioned that
we could go and have an abortion. I said no, that this is meant to happen, and I
naively said something about how we must assume our responsibilities. We got
married, got another Newfoundland, and four months later Jabe was born. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When they cut him out he started screaming, then
they cleaned him up, swaddled him, and put him in my arms. Just two minutes before
there was a silence, and then suddenly the air was filled with the cries of
this little person who looked just like me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All of the intense love that I felt for my wife failed
in comparison to the<span style="color: #cc0000;"> <a href="http://americanchivalry.blogspot.com/2013/11/from-beginning-to-now-to-what-is-to-come.html"><span style="color: #cc0000;">love</span></a></span><a href="http://americanchivalry.blogspot.com/2013/11/from-beginning-to-now-to-what-is-to-come.html"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> and connection</span></a> that I felt for Jabe. It is simply
ineffable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6 months ago I </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">discovered</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> her </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">infidelity</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">, and it has completely destroyed me. Many, many times I wish that I had
never met her. That when she asked me out for that coffee I simply
blew her off, and went back to my 19 year-old girlfriend with her 19 year-old
body.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But these moments, aligned by the constellations,
gravity, and quantum mechanics, all lead to the creation of my son. All of my love
and the loss of it lead to my son, because if I had approached her with only
half of my heart, she probably would not have had our son, and my life would
have no purpose. It’s all a grand scheme; I’m just not big enough to understand
it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-90821888537350489152013-02-05T19:48:00.000-08:002016-08-29T06:21:22.659-07:00Freedom From <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">If you are climbing, clawing, and searching your whole life for happiness you will not find it, if you are looking in the eyes, arms, and attention of all around you for love, <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">you will forever long for it</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">These aspects of your reality are an ebb, or flow; however you see it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">They are at one side of the pendulum of your life, to constantly search for the pleasure of <span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">joy or Elation, is</span> to think that there is only one side of a coin. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There is a duality that we cannot escape by only concentrating on the feel-good part of existence. The duality must be balanced by the <span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">third, and that third is peace. Peace with the pain, peace from love, i<span style="color: #17365d; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 191;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">t is the stabilizing aspect
of the triad.</span> </span>Don’t pray for love, pray for peace from it; don’t pray for joy, pray to be free from</span> its illusion.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Take a moment and realize that every bit of star dust, every atom, earth quake, and solar flare has been leading up to this moment. You are chosen to read these words, you are chosen to synthesize every wrong and right done to you, and form the complete being that you will one day become. Your life is a ballet, it is beautiful and tragic; it makes one weep, laugh, and love, and one day your existence will balance the opposing forces and give you peace. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-56126927601649437612012-07-10T09:33:00.000-07:002012-11-19T07:57:08.904-08:00What Are We?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> If you were to think about it, are you the result of some mammal that simply got tired of lounging in a tree with a cornucopia within arm’s reach, then it climbed down to battle large predators for the hope of grubs and grains. More explicitly you may not even be that, you may be nothing more than an amalgamation of soulless single celled organisms working in a symphony unbeknownst to them. Just a blob of millions of little life forms going through space and time, while your consciousness is a manifestation created by the legion to merely hold it all together. What if they simply decided to go their separate ways? Is your life, and mine so simply held together, and so easily disbanded? </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> What if the earth was a spinning domicile of life and death as Darwin saw it, yet infinitely more complex than his 19th century mind could articulate? What if a single cell was so intricate that its mere existence and operation could be viewed as a miracle?</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> Let me offer you an interpretation; you can either rationalize intelligent design out of your reality and thus be intellectually above morality, or you can stop looking at the damn flowerbox and look at the flowers for a moment. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> Your mass of cells working in concert is endlessly complex, not only are they interminably multifaceted, but they work together in infinite relationships, and their entire purpose revolves around one thing; You, or maintaining what it is to be You. Revolving is a key word here, the earth spins, the moon revolves around the earth, the earth around the sun, and the solar system is part of a spinning galaxy. You DNA spirals and electrons revolve around protons in the smallest building blocks currently known to man.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <span style="color: #cccccc;"> There is a beat to this song, and it is<span style="color: #38761d;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibonacci_number"><span style="color: #38761d;">0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144,</span></a> & so on... everything is spiraling from the smallest atom to the largest galaxy. You are but one part of a grand design so vast that we cannot even reconcile the relationships between quantum physics and relativity, just as it is not easy to reconcile Fibonacci’s sequence with Pythagoreanism; the vastness of the mind of God is simply beyond our feeble understanding. </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtvn53Y5hp40bkPtIM_VxSWr2PBV8T9NpwY_WMDphoF3Zj9jE35Fe2IdaGU7TW70wK6F3IDFfu0jdcs_H0kRr8dKoVX4Qfdtyv2qEC7RgLwfRmPEbdgR4hUcPYGGHrSIa9Xgss8GKSiZz/s1600/emerald-tablet2+copy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLtvn53Y5hp40bkPtIM_VxSWr2PBV8T9NpwY_WMDphoF3Zj9jE35Fe2IdaGU7TW70wK6F3IDFfu0jdcs_H0kRr8dKoVX4Qfdtyv2qEC7RgLwfRmPEbdgR4hUcPYGGHrSIa9Xgss8GKSiZz/s200/emerald-tablet2+copy.gif" width="161" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> The cells in your body are a microcosmic representation of the universe. As the observations made by Hermes Trismegistus declare “<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Secretum_Secretorum"><span style="color: #38761d;">What is the above is from the below and the below is from the above. The work of wonders is from One</span></a>”. You are created in God’s image because your body is a schematic of the workings of the universe, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Nature"><span style="color: #38761d;">Book of Nature</span></a>, and thus the mind of God; you’re simply to finite to comprehend the infinite. The very fact that these particulates do not tear themselves apart, the fact that there are “laws” of nature, gravity, and physics that the universe follows gives credence to the idea that someone built the flowerbox.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Wow.</span> </span></span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-515728161722312532007-06-20T09:08:00.000-07:002011-09-23T09:17:30.524-07:00Epitaph<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9oOlf29zvpnWMXYKuMR6mxLLEYYWS5AWT8-TqXjkaIWdzvuTzbpjD_28y0EdsUX261CAhk-ZYK9cbGfoBgMPJ6I_tNMgz06FEi6c_nqLPOk9EL5RM4le9PugnQnaTJ245KyHMkUrjW5en/s1600/masons_die_too_by_kautadulo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9oOlf29zvpnWMXYKuMR6mxLLEYYWS5AWT8-TqXjkaIWdzvuTzbpjD_28y0EdsUX261CAhk-ZYK9cbGfoBgMPJ6I_tNMgz06FEi6c_nqLPOk9EL5RM4le9PugnQnaTJ245KyHMkUrjW5en/s400/masons_die_too_by_kautadulo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fav.me/d1bz7pu"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: x-small;">http://fav.me/d1bz7pu</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I lie in the cool comfortable soil<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">With my breath still and quite<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I finally get to rest<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">Forever free from my toil<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I can feel the larvae tickle from within <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">While I become a part of the humus<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I have the roots of the acacia consume me<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">And live and die with the plant kingdom again and again <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I am carried by the winds <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">And adrift in the sea<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I am purified by flame <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">With each adventure returning me to my beginning, and my end<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I observe the four seasons as if they were nothing <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">And I am beyond love, hate, and greed<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I am even beyond memory<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">For I am truly unending</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-19174154401738611842006-11-28T09:15:00.000-08:002011-09-23T13:42:30.050-07:00The Dead and the Dying<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Originally written June 21<sup>st</sup> 2008 </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWZsa1I3hYPrTeQOLKt6myl6iqeKgoXkMqTYNLmTXxCcIHgiD5Du9OGxJu7GjSN1vacTDn_yZc3HOaExHB4jv2xlJZNZm0pathwviLcd7vo1w4qERMrmOfMO57Zd276S7hZq2g9t_1a9j/s1600/momento+mori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWZsa1I3hYPrTeQOLKt6myl6iqeKgoXkMqTYNLmTXxCcIHgiD5Du9OGxJu7GjSN1vacTDn_yZc3HOaExHB4jv2xlJZNZm0pathwviLcd7vo1w4qERMrmOfMO57Zd276S7hZq2g9t_1a9j/s320/momento+mori.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> An uneventful night at the <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1304006227_0">Wynnewood</span> bar with too many toos, too many beers, too many cigarettes, too old to still be living like this.</span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Well uneventful until we passed the Paoli Cemetery in a perpendicular manor. </span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> A field of stone that houses my ancestors, all of them perfectly spaced and planted to await there physical resurrection and the second coming. </span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> Where by order of the full moon, and the assistance of the exterior lights, our passing reflection was cast in all of that solemnly polished granite.</span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> A reflection abstracted, yet still discernible</span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> We were reflecting their death and literal representation of mortality, and they our life and refusal to acknowledge such a notion.</span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cccccc;"> For that very brief, strange, and beautiful moment, the living and the dead reached across that eerie threshold, and acknowledged each other with indifference. </span></span></span></div><div class="yiv222043447MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-6675943612117624112006-09-11T09:00:00.000-07:002017-09-28T17:40:53.210-07:00Plant a Tree in Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8kiGYBtYukJLy5bRC6U1Vc9iyX-04xarEoAq_g1aKhlZhnJtlsf_Ax6UBWzeTMX-yIi-aiOHn23DvwWI5xuLTPYjtwr_JTvHRfJbCGmMjDR0Kg5M-hQHC3OyvEEs6tMCXnyFtvdJmOo5/s1600/3f7bed02-a88a-47b8-b57e-ee3ed5451a49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8kiGYBtYukJLy5bRC6U1Vc9iyX-04xarEoAq_g1aKhlZhnJtlsf_Ax6UBWzeTMX-yIi-aiOHn23DvwWI5xuLTPYjtwr_JTvHRfJbCGmMjDR0Kg5M-hQHC3OyvEEs6tMCXnyFtvdJmOo5/s1600/3f7bed02-a88a-47b8-b57e-ee3ed5451a49.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.esthersarto.com/work/" target="_blank"> ESTHER SARTO, 'FOREST OF OBSCURITY' </a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">Plant a tree in me<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">To feel the roots grow deep<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">The trunk stretching the skin<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">How interesting that would be<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">To stroll in constant shade <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">Observe the gentle dance of the canopy<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">Serenaded by song full birds <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">An experience I would not evade <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">To watch the lichens grow<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">Accepting the grubs that bore within <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">To carry this immense burden <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">All of this with spirits low<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">This is my blessing, and my curse <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">Were I to cut free this monolithic parasite<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">And be left with the sweet sad cavity<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #999999;">I would have the happiest wounds to nurse <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2925082209315685244.post-21314628696255455572006-08-05T08:18:00.000-07:002011-09-23T16:13:22.964-07:00Autumn is a Sweet Death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6glMU7C2uo5uRtFs4Un8had0LR-mdI_SVtDmEBx1TZzIBDumeaIQZTHBNyrFMiBBeAN7Z-Di17Mv8aqatP8-m6pv3FoNP1ymsnsjvYMKlivotR5LQ78czFgwtYR28jWqF1Jr6cZyghk8/s1600/primeval.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb6glMU7C2uo5uRtFs4Un8had0LR-mdI_SVtDmEBx1TZzIBDumeaIQZTHBNyrFMiBBeAN7Z-Di17Mv8aqatP8-m6pv3FoNP1ymsnsjvYMKlivotR5LQ78czFgwtYR28jWqF1Jr6cZyghk8/s400/primeval.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fav.me/d2b7c8v"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">Autumn Tree</span></a></div><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Autumn is a sweet death, it does not possess the love and beauty of spring, nor the life and tranquility of summer, nor does it possess the graceful slumber of winter, but a sweet retiring release. It is not like one who longs for death, like one who has gone through years of illness or morning, but more like a waltz that is gingerly coming to a close.</span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Autumn is like a loving migrant mother singing the last lullaby to her desolate child, she knows it is the child’s last song and soon hers will follow. She contains virtuosity, and strength, while failing her spawn in all of the material needs, she can swallow back her immense despair, and muster all that remains of her soul, everything that is left, and draw together one last sonnet, to ease the only thing that matters to her , to the other side. </span></span></span></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">It is not right, but when nothing is right in this world, it suddenly becomes condonable, and in a since it suddenly becomes wonderful. To find beauty in all of this ugliness, is truly the spiritual constitution of a Saint. To find the pleasant aroma in the delicate decay of autumn, is to truly realize, we all succumb to a sweet death.</span></span></span></div></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQILXV_wtjHiyvLm8B2exobwp-fauqETAmWKNhi7G8zwOyfrLD7x9UdzP6i7SczmoHQ-YiY-PjLlQwYTbJHGF54Kws2dR8f9waACQvc24iidqyhPX8TJG6tppVTc8TprPuf56kKUeZM_9/s1600/ravens-ripen-in-autumn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQILXV_wtjHiyvLm8B2exobwp-fauqETAmWKNhi7G8zwOyfrLD7x9UdzP6i7SczmoHQ-YiY-PjLlQwYTbJHGF54Kws2dR8f9waACQvc24iidqyhPX8TJG6tppVTc8TprPuf56kKUeZM_9/s320/ravens-ripen-in-autumn.jpg" width="202" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0