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| april 2013 |
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| Slice | 1:17am monday, 29th april |
This is a slice of my life as it currently is: 
Click on this to get a larger version. The main piece in it is my statue of Joan of Arc, a unique one that originates from France. At the very top is a Lego Joan. There is also an Archangel Michael patch. To the left is my Savino for wine and below it are some caffeine pills. At the very front is a set of Korean coins from 1988 (except one I found was actually from 1983, for they were sloppy).
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| Theories | 1:51am thursday, 25th april |
You know, I had various theories about the people I met, in my visions. At first, I did not try to explain their presence in my mind’s eye, cartoonish mostly, and they said things to me. Some years later, I was convinced that it all was merely psychosis; merely hallucinations; merely a long, strange trip. When I became a devout Christian, I had the theory that the Lord and the angels were “real”, but the people were just creations by them. Or now, were all of them just the people one meets in dreams? Finally ending as that these were the actual people I thought I was meeting, seen in the afterlife, whenever they reached it, time having a different meaning that the “now” I normally experienced. The mind may stretch without tearing. Or like muscle, grow stronger anew when it does.
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| scenes | 12:03am sunday, 21st april |
those scenes of dreaming that a faint fraction we grasp, then none
to let go of all concern, to hold on high defying all doubt: God is love
giddy at life as the Radiance flutters by like ballerinas en pointe
stars wink at you from the heavens, far overlooking these geometries
amazement will snow down, carefully to kiss from forever skies
all that i see, i see for the first time; all the music is new to my ears
to find in the discovery of everything the dream of the Creator
and in a single moment, the secret to it all when i decide to love back
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| Wonder | 2:23am wednesday, 17th april |
Do you at all wonder about faith? How can you wish all the wrongs done you to be redressed, while all the wrongs you do to be overlooked? Yet this is the way people think; I know I have thought in this exact way. What will you believe when you face your Maker on the day of judgement? For we will be naked, of body, mind, soul, and spirit on that Day. Without excuse, will we all be. Do you wish to prepare for such an event? This is wisdom. Forgive, as you want to be forgiven. Learn how to let it go, all the petty things. If they come back, let it go again. Until you are free.
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| Complain | 2:55pm saturday, 13th april |
There are people who do nothing but complain. What do we teach our children? The children will not appreciate that they have a roof over their heads, three square meals, a place to sleep, clothes enough for every day of the week. Would not those who complain be likened to the child who takes such things for granted? Are you not thankful for the ground under your feet, the air you breathe, water to drink, an entire civilization that supports your existence? Could it be the person who does not believe in God who is the creator the same as one who takes the beauty and the utility of things for granted, and perhaps thinks only to complain for what is not right, instead? Even if he doesn’t complain, he takes such things without thanks, most probably. And if he does not do that, but is truly grateful for all that is, for his very life: to him I say, you are not far from the Kingdom. For he has God already, but just doesn’t know it.
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| Mistakes | 2:25am tuesday, 9th april |
It can be seen thusly, the implements of life: we have been given everything, and only the mistakes are ours. Any talent, skill, strength, or intelligence: gifts from God. Even our will, and our ability to make any kind of effort: gifts. And of course creativity is a gift, what most of all is spoken of when He said, let us make man in our image. Whenever we do that is told us to do, all features of this act are given us: the resolve, the ability, the knowledge, the experience, the energy summoned: all gifts. And when we do something truly original, it is not that we do something outside the realm of God’s gifts; in fact, it is usually known to be the opposite. In Amadeus, Salieri says he is an enemy of God, because God spoke through Mozart in his music. That which is most beyond the ordinary is most a Gift, is it not?
But the mistakes, the errors, the sins, the misjudging: of course, God works them into His plan, but they are not of Him. Sometimes they seem to serve such purpose that one is suspicious as to whether the mistake was a mistake, things turn out so well. But that is only the skill of God, not yours. Error is worked into perfection only by a love that can summon light out of darkness. If you had meant to make that mistake, it would have been in your head to do so to begin with. They are of us, the errors, we who are the imperfect ones. (And we should not boast of these.) Yes, it is an extreme view, but it has some merit. To believe that by thus indeed we are defined: in what we do wrong, in those errors we commit into the record of the world, which reflect, however faintly, in eternity.
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| Short Space | 3:28am friday, 5th april |
There comes certain moments in life, when it is as if everything stops turning, and for that moment, you are doing right by God and the world, and all that is wrong is quiet, and faded in the background’s background. When for that short space in time you understand how it is that God is love, with all that happens in the chaos of things and the violence of the malcontented. Do not think it is an illusion that these moments are, for it is the worry, and concern about lesser things, that is truly the illusion. The place where you find the presence of God is hallowed ground, wherever you may find it. The bush that burns and is not consumed. Like the heart that knows what it is to love.
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| hungry | 2:53am monday, 1st april |
death is the hungry nothing
revel in the driving wind
fire in the senses thrown
a galaxy’s light overtaken
by the singular desire
darkness shall not curse us
time cannot be destroyed
the steel of paradise sing
and i, who tried to fill all
hearts with light, shall i
surrender to impossibility?
not to wonder carelessly
break bread with castaways
no light is unreflected
time can only be spent
to the gain of all makers
where the wind blows, i go
ablaze with love i know
death ever to remain hungry
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