Holy Noise/Bordering on Riot

Attended an Easter vigil on Saturday night. For those of you who have never been to one of these, I would say that it would be most agreeable or detestable to you. I will let you find out.
I will not go into the entire service as of right now as I have not processed it totally. The whole service was building up to the celebration of Christ rising from the dead and grave and therefore defeating sin and death and making way for mankind to be re united with God. Amen
So as the service went through it's paces, it culminated to a point where the Rector announced the resurrection of Jesus and the congregation, the priest, the pastoral members, the choir, the band and all creatures great and small went bonkers for I do not know how long. We screamed, yelled, rang bells, banged pots and pans, jumped, danced and just participated in general revelry in celebration.
As I was I yelling and ringing my bell, I felt an almost undeniable desire to throw my bell at someone and run around as I tore my shirt off, just go classically crazy. I did not do any of those things but pondered the feelings later.
How fine a line separates human emotional reactions. The same fire that fuels group worship of our Creator's victory is perhaps the same that fuels the riots and plundering of massive mobs. Before you call my pastor and get my kicked out, I am not saying God causes riots but that we humans have very basic emotions and very few reactions. Now how this come to fruition and what they cause or what outcomes results from them are very different. But that is the point is it not? If you are not a Christian, you will find my next statements very silly I shouldn't wonder.
We are fallen and all that grows inside of us and comes forth from our mouth, heart, mind and such is perverted. I use this word not JUST as sexual perversion but as meaning using something or doing something with same actions or same starting point but with an evil desire or outcome, ie Crusades, Spanish inquisition, abortion clinic bombings, early European missionaries murdering native Americans, Salem Witch Trials, almost every idea of sex in our culture, the use/love/desire/abuse of money...you get my point. Everything we humans do that is awful (which is mostly everything we do) could be and once was good. Adam and Eve were once perfect. They had our emotions, they had our desires and they acted as such BUT they were not fallen. They were Uber Man and Uber Woman. Nothing Man does can be correct without Christ providing the Grace to correct it. Our line is bent. Even if we start at point A headed towards perfection, the most minuscule of deviation will eventually result in out line being so far off perfection that we will no longer be able to see the True Line.
The same emotional starting point I had whilst celebrating and praising Christ late Saturday night, without Grace could easily be turned into a self righteous riot that could result in any sort of religious persecution. I think I understand what happened at Salem and why thousands of Christians and Muslims killed and are killing each other. This is why I am also able to say how terribly wrong they are as well. Understanding is not the same as condoning. I just wonder how much more effective we would be in showing truth is we understood how close we all were and but for the Grace of God how far we would all be from the True Line.
Anyways, I am done rambling. But I will leave you with this. I think a little personal riot on your own is not too bad. This world is ran by the enemy so let us riot continually but just in track with Christ. I can't tell you how each person gets on the Line but that there is a Line and we cannot be on it without Christ as The Line is Christ. Oh boy metaphysics!

and stretch...

Thanks to my pal Molly, I am using thewriteprompts.com to increase my limited skill as a writer. It is fabulously fun and I would recommend it to anyone. This one is using the following words to write for 15 minutes.
  bait
 •lighter
 •eerie
 •shhhh…
 •mechanic
 •word-of-mouth
 •caring
 •navy
 •cardigan
 •uncompromising
 •transport
 •rose

I have never liked the way information passed in the Navy. Word-of-mouth can sink a ship faster than a torpedo. I have been on this sticking hull of a ship for 6 weeks now. Maybe a sailor on a battleship or cruiser felt like a hero or inspired but men assigned to a cargo transport did not. A captain of a battleship seemed to be the quintessential man, uncompromising, brave, noble and uses words only when his cannons are empty. Our captain could not be more opposite. Instead of traditional captain's garb, he wore a cardigan and no hat. Appearances are more important than one imagines.  Maybe it was the nature of a ship like ours. We were like bait without a hook for the predators lurking in and under the north Atlantic. Our captain was probably a caring loving man on shore but on here he was a sly, sulking fidgety man. The ship took on the personality of the men who manned her. Our ship had no moral then.
It was one of the mechanic who first started the rumor. I do not know where he would have heard it but he said it.
 "Shhhh... you'll shut your cursed trap if you value your life!" the chief of the watch snarled at an unsuspecting seaman who had uttered the general consensus that was floating around the ship like a bad odor.
"Do you think it is true chief?" the embarrassed sailor meekly asked, desperately trying to get back into his good graces by asking his opinion.
The ship rose on the crest of the wave and then plummeted back into the trough. The chief spat the brown liquid that was developing from his quid and smoldered. His face became lighter at once, which made the scene only more eerie.
"Don't matter if it true or not, as we are all dead anyhow." the chief was maybe trying to inspire his boys or maybe he was just past caring now. 15 years at sea will do that to you.
The point was taken no matter what the thought behind the phrase was. The ship kept moving, the men kept grumbling. I have never like the way information was passed in the Navy.

No title here just a bear story.

The bear is not going to move. It was far too bad of a famine in the Wasatch Mountain Range to let a 200 pound meal to get away because of a little wait. I thought in the back of my mind, that I had heard the advice of playing dead to combat a bear attack. I think following that advice would lead to, not playing dead but being dead and digested I shouldn't wonder.
I could wait as well, you stupid hairy bastard. I tell myself this thinking I am talking to the great bear sitting outside of my man-sized cave with a child-sized entrance, but in reality I am most likely just speaking to trying to instill listless hope into my most desperate of situations. The beast has more fat and no student loans to pay. It has all the time in the world. It? I wonder if this is a girl bear or a boy bear. I do not care. I do not think gender has anything to do with sharpness of claw and biting of teeth. I have but a leatherman knife. It has a four inch blade. What are you going to do Davy? Stab the beast's eye ball and hope the curved scimitars on the paws miss me?
I scream like a banshee. I have never heard a banshee but I figure it sounds like me. The bear does not move outside of grunting with what I can only guess is hunger and annoyance.
I am almost sorry for how rude I am being with this terrible wait. "The olive garden can get like this as well guy." I shall converse with my vessel of doom. I am out of options. To stay here would most likely spell death by hunger or probably thirst before that. I have a nice rotund belly to keep me alive but alas I have no water. I lost it running away from a bear.
My ankle is swelling now. Broken I shouldn't wonder. F@#king bear.
It is not the bear's fault. I came into the home of the bear. It should kill me even if it was not in need of sustenance. I would have shot the bear if it had rambled into my house. Right between the damn eyes. I would have ballyhooed like a sandperson. I spit at the bear. I am immediately remorseful. Yes the animal is trying to eat me but it does not deserve my disdain just my fear. We humans disdain too much and fear too little. Or at least we fear the wrong things. Irrational fear is being scared of not having enought money. Irrational unfear is ignoring natural law and traipsing around in uncivilized territory that obviously does not belong to people but to bears. Big bears that eat any living thing it can catch within it's improbably immense grasp.
The bear will roar and then most likely be very silent outside of his munchings. I have decided that my bear is a male.
Baloo looks away down the slope at something. "Please leave." I do not say this but just think it.
I would gladly gamble my life on falling/running down the mountain side. I could make it. I do not want to pass out and die in a hole.
I wonder what life I will miss out on? What will my friends say at my bodiless funeral? I would hope they would put up signs and fliers warning people of the dangers or frivolous hikes through bear country. Bear country. If only my issues was with sister bear or brother bear. My problem would be them keeping me out of their superb clubhouse. I find it ironic that the more we paint a bear like a person the less savage they get and the more petty and mean they get. What if humans were more savage and ferocious and less petty? I guess problems would arise out of that as well.
The point of no return for several options is drawing near. The longer I stay here the weaker I become. I will be dehydrated and famished. My ankle will be more swollen. The bear will be hungrier which for some reason I feel will not diminish his killing capacity or at least not comparable to my escaping capacity.
I grab my leatherman. The beast is digging a hole. Grubs? I do not linger on the thought. He is looking away. I wonder if he has forgotten about me. Fear and trepidation.
I climb out as child out of womb. Just as helpless.
I run past. No time for a heroic stab of my knife. He most likely has thick skin.
Bears are stronger than people...and faster.
Oh well I tried.

Ride in...

The world is an awful place. Children are being forced to be soldiers, people are starving in our own country, millions of babies are slaughtered each year and humans generally treat each other and all other living things terribly. Contrary to what the google commercials are saying these days, humanity is not evolving for the better, we are not growing closer with our technology but finding new and different ways to destroy. Gone are the days where a King Arthur rides in too restore order and drives out they who oppress. This can depress me and make me feel helpless even with more resources and rivers of information than ever before in human history. We sit in the dark dank stable even as the feast is laid before us. All this I ponder on and yet this slow death we may look to the Bright Sadness. The Lenten season is upon us. We are trudging our way towards Holy Week. A time that The Church celebrates and meditates on Christ's journey to death on a tree by our hands and then to victory over death with His Resurrection. This is not a fable or a commemoration of a good man's life, it is the acknowledgment of God becoming a man, dying and coming back to life.
I pine for a moment when a host of riders would indeed traverse down the hillside to break through the lines and grant salvation to the Hornburg. I can lose my thoughts in what was and I can forget that our White Rider has indeed trodden down the enemy underfoot. The Battle is won and know He is calling to the survivors to Himself.

I say all this with the aforementioned terror of our modern decaying world not as an excuse for placing my head comfortably in the sand, but to freely draw my sword and charge. We may go out and give kindness to those who meet, we can give what we have (as what we have really does not matter!!!) to those who have not, we may die to ourselves as we are free to Live in Christ. The world is going to hell in a hand basket yes, but look around, we have people we come in contact with everyday to pull out of the aftermath.

a day without Hope

Flowers didn't seem to burn anymore. Nothing did. What didn't make me feel terrible made me feel numb. The walls are not closing in on me, they are falling away, which is much more terrifying if you ask me. I would much rather be snug than falling away. Nobody asks me though. I think later I will not want to be asked, but as of now I could use someone asking. Ask me anything. I cannot promise I will not lie.
I have lied before.
We should not get into that though. It is hurtful and I do like it. It does not make me feel good about thinking of past things.
(authors note; I know this song was sung by an orphan but let us be honest, it was a made up story and is now sung but anything but orphans.)
The sun will come up tomorrow they say, or at least that is what little girls like to sing. You never see a poor child singing that song. People who have no earthly problems are the only ones who worry that the sun will not come up in the morning. They have so much they want to do, places to see, people to love, pleasures to be had. Poor folk secretly pray that the sun will not make it up tomorrow. The pain and troubles ended before the end you. If you cannot finish the race, would it not make things better if a storm cancelled the whole event?
A bad day for a comfortable person is reason for depression because it is the lowest they have ever been. For one who has none, a bad day means the next day will be worse.
The pills and the 750 ml bottles seem to drag you through the shit worse than trudging through on your own. They say they will help you fly over or at least give you boots to wade through it, but it just allows you not smell it until its caked all over your body and in your mouth. Just walk through with your eyes ahead and at least you will see the parts of your body to wash when you are out. This whole world cannot be a field of filth yet.
The stupor and fog passes with the morning breeze. Walking down to the cafe helps scrape the film away. It is still there but I can see well enough. I can talk to people again. It is nice to be able to look at their faces instead of their shoes.
I have two dollars and twelve cents. That is a cup of coffee and one refill. I want to be thankful for the little things but it is hard when you realize what the little things cost.
I do not like to think of the night I became hopeless. Having a good time naturally brings me back to it though. I cannot experience good without remembering the good that was taken from me.
He did not have to shoot her. He could have took my wallet and her thin gold necklace and had a perfectly good time. Maybe he knew though. He knew that it would buy him only a few more days and nights of escape. Maybe this was his giving up. He knew the police would find him. He did not even hide. After he killed her and shot me, he just sat down on the curb and cried. I did not hate him. I could not believe him. He was not sorry he did it, he was sorry it came to it. He had no choice in his mind.
The police handcuffed him. He said he was sorry. He was not sorry he got caught, sorry he killed her and not sorry he was doomed. He was sorry he had to do it. Natures of man want to bring others with them wherever he goes. Up or down we want company. See you in hell or I'll join you in heaven. Whenever you go and wherever, take companions.
I could not work a job afterwards.
I lost most feeling in my right arm. My pelvis was shattered by his first shot and my spine on the second.
I lost the will to work. I do not receive anything as far as disabled payment. It goes to my medical bills and my nose plugs. Being estranged from your family offers little goodness when you are not independent or have no purpose in life.
I walk to my change jar. I receive five cents for my bottles. I found five dollars on the ground the other day. I have seven dollars and fifty eight cents. I do not know what to do with it.
I sit down and just look at it. There is no point in saving anything anymore.
I do not know what to spend it on.

Inspired by Christmas music in starbucks...

The Christmas music was still playing over the loud speakers in the coffee shop. It is serenely disturbing as Jingle Bells serenades a man dying as he bleeds out over his latte and bagel with cream cheese. Nobody likes a murder or even death but this one hurt. It is the holiday season and all were enjoying themselves. The couple in the big softies chattering to impress each other on their first date, the two old men playing chess and downing espressos religiously and the barista behind the counter smiling but wanting to be home. The barista is still smiling but the smile is stuck and unconscious when before it was forced and genuinely fake. I have never seen a murder. Now I have. I would like to explain to the police what happened and that would help them catch someone. I would be a hero and even receive a handshake. Alas, all I can tell is that someone walked into the shop as a person on holiday would walk. Strolling with little to no purpose. Meandering would be a good word. I'll use that.
Dashing through the snow..
I want to squelch the notion that murders are loud or dramatic. Well some are I am sure but this one was not. The man on holiday walked up to the man reading the newspaper. A handshake, a smile, a exchange of greetings, pulling him close and then four thrusts of a blade into the newspaper and through the stomach of it's reader. His hands coddle the man's confused face and then he walks towards the door with a small grin on his face. He stops at my table first and presents me with the knife. He tells me I have earned it. I guess so.
..on a one horse open sleigh..
That was it. The holiday skewer did not even run away. He walked. People are not even afraid of spilling the blood of people in coffee shops who read newspapers during the Christmas season. There was Christmas music playing. Has anyone ever died immediately after hearing "Happy Holidays to you."? I watched the man's blood soak his bagel and wondered if that bothered him. I hope it did not, he has enough to worry about at the moment. A new song as come on the speakers.
The weather outside is frightful...
I want to help this man but he is too far gone. I am sorry he is dying. I hope they catch that man on holiday. There is no excuse to interrupt the yule tide season. People have presents to buy and trees to decorate. Uncalled for really.
...but the fire is so delightful...
Turn off the incessant music. I cannot seem to get a grasp on what has happened with those tunes blocking out all ranges of emotions. Police officers are inside now with guns pulled and some paramedics are fussing over the newspaper and it's reader. They should stop. He is dead. I wish I did not have such sticky hands. The coppers are looking at me with odd looks on their face. The guns are pointed towards me. This is un safe I say. Doesn't a man have rights in this holiday season? I would like to finish my coffee please. I tell them this and they do not listen. Hands behind the back is uncomfortable. I am worried that the police officers have made a mistake as the knife is on my table.
They are not convinced by my oaths of innocence. The other customers have turned on me. They want justice.
...as long as you love me so, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
Looking back I should have taken my pills but it was the holiday season I say. I will not subject myself to that any longer. I was a man on holiday, I did not need any pills telling me what to do. Merry Christmas I guess. I tell this to the police officer who handcuffs me. No response. I am not sure holidays mean the same to everyone.

Where does it stop and start?

Let us define phrases. Living for today. So ignored and so misused. I think.  How do we live day by day (by day, by day, by day oh lord) and not be terrible stewards of our lives? What does that mean? Is it sensible to do this at all? What happens when we plan for tomorrow and then forget about where you are walking?
I have lots of daily questions.
I have few daily answers.
I think that is okay...
Living for today. Do not say tomorrow I will go here or there and do this or that.
Constant worry/planning/hoarding about the future blinds us to world around us. People are stuck in time and space and out bodies are still not fully severed from out Adamistic Doom. Meaning we are going to die sometime. I have heard so many people talk about regrets they have about their loved ones death, wishing they had spent more time with them or told them they loved them the last time the talked. (authors note: look how many words start with L or T in that last sentence.) As I have become older I have finally started to realize the importance of saying "I love you" to friends and family members when I hang up the phone. Suck the marrow from the time you spend with people. We do not know when our string is cut.
I do not want to live just today and go bankrupt tomorrow.
How do we balance living today and being stewards?
I think the door swings on obsession.
Do not be obsessed with anything. Today is happening. You are alive today and maybe tomorrow. Which should you pick to focus on? You can live today and set up things for tomorrow without losing sight of the person in front of you. Do what you can but don't throw all your chips in for anything but Christ.
To hedge one's bets is a sin.
I am living today, so I will drink and enjoy this cup of coffee. I will cook dinner, enjoy it and give thanks for the provision. I will not max out 3 credit cards or take a loan that I never plan to pay off because I think I shouldn't plan for tomorrow. That is what a fool would do. The world could end tomorrow but it also could go on for 10,000 more years. How do you want to look or what do you want to be doing with the trumpet sounds? I want to be sitting with friends or family, enjoying a meal or reading a book. Live this life for Him and I promise you will have time to go see some wonders of The World later.
I do not know if I have made any sense yet so I shall stop.