It

It does not care that I am busy or need to produce.  It only knows strength, an overwhelming weight of loss.  

It can not see the day or night, they all seem the same.  It only feels now, this time of present pain.

It's drive is wreck-less, its degree is senseless.  It won't let up.

Someday it will cease, someday peace, but today for me there is no release.

Protect her, don't dare neglect her.  She is so beautiful.  I will never forget her.

Oh God, be our comfort, be our shepherd.  Be the one you said you are.  

Let our dreams, the ones you gave,  shine away this dark moment in our lives.  

Help us see your hand in all of this.

And help us remember that it will soon pass

They're all around us.

Everywhere you look, there they are.  Every person you walk past in the grocery store looking for snacks in one of them.  Every person that moves through your peripheries as you march through traffic.  Every person you have ever laid eyes on, every person you have ever ignored, and every person you have never met.  They're everywhere, the indescript multitudes of amazing people.  Have you ever thought about the fact that every person you encounter on your day has traversed an infinite amount of life experience, emotions, and endeavors?  How often do you stop to listen to some one else's story?  How often do you pause and stop your endless rat-race to marinate in the minds and imaginations of your fellow humans?  If your like me, not often enough.

For the past year I've been grabbing coffee and meals with a man who is a few years my senior.  He's the type of guy that often gets overlooked.  Normally, if I was to run into him amidst my daily activities I would surely not notice him, but for whatever reason we've developed a friendship and it has been truly life-giving.  I've enjoyed hearing his perspective on politics, his stories of childhood, his sentiment about tragedy, and a plethora of other conversation topics.  He is beyond words, amazing.  

This is my point:  You never know who is next to you.  He or She could be the most amazing person you ever meet.  My hope is that I will never become so rigid, or stuck in my daily patterns that I may overlook a friend like the one I've made this last year.  Always be open to the life stories of others and never underestimate anyone, because within each individual human is an infinite wealth of experience and potential worth sacrificing anything for.  

Thanks Jim.

Gets up early in the morning

at work again he mopes

thankless for his laboring

he'll be heard soon he hopes

At break he reads and disappears

he thinks about his life

his love for sports and his lonely fears

remembering good times

How he feels like he's all alone

trapped inside this airport

he loads the bags all to be flown

to lands and distant shores

He wonders when he'll catch his break

and his dreams will finally take

We don't see who you are and 

we won't know your charm

if we never take the time

to get to know the man 

the character inside oh Jim

All he's seen and all he's done

the people that he's met

don't know what they missed out on

the moment that they left

They could not see his greatness

he didn't fit their mold

humble hearts can seem like less

but his is made of gold

He's full of love and so meek

loyalty to stay by your side 

until the day you die

don't let him pass you by

We don't see who you are and 

we won't know your charm

if we never take the time

to get to know the man 

the character inside oh Jim

They day is ending and  its time for bed

not a quarter past nine

joyful rest as he lays his head

the love of his divine

Soon he'll wake to another day

this crazy world is blind

we did not know that we walked away

from one of a kind

So may we heed his story

what matters is inside

may we sing his journey

with dignity and pride

Will it always be this way?

Sometimes I think the human history is like a sea crew fresh from conquest but lost at sea.  We travel the open water with blood on our hands and cargo full of treasure.  Our journey is a dichotomy of endless consumption and eternal loneliness.  Our feasting and consuming makes us feel like we understand what life is about, but only for a moment.  Once our prizes wear down we hunger for more.  I find in my own life that I often go after the wrong treasure.  It leaves me feeling alone, lost at sea.  I look back at my spoils and realize that they were all in vein.  What is the price of our endeavors and pursuit of self-gain?

The recent flare-up between Somali Pirates and Western sea shipping illustrates this even further.  It's an international paradox of worldly desire.  On one hand you have the American and European ships transporting goods from our capitalist conquest in the East back home to the West.  On the other hand you have an organized crime gang capturing and holding hostages, innocent merchants and seamen.  On first glance it seems that the ships crew is absolutely in the right and the pirates are absolutely in the wrong, but if you study the history of Somalia and uncover the plight of her people you may come to understand a much more intricate, heartbreaking story.  

In the early 1990's Somalia's government collapsed, leaving a land void of structure, order, and safety.  Around the same time Western nations capitalized on the situation and began to dump nuclear waster off the coast, as it was far cheaper to dump in a country with zero regulations than to follow the strict environmental regulations of their own lands.  It costs roughly $2.50 cents per ton to dump in the Somali ocean compared to $250 per ton to dispose in nuclear waste plants.  To Western companies its a no-brainer; dump in Somalia, who's going to stop us?

This turned tragic in December 2004 when an earthquake in Java measuring over 9.0 on the richter-scale triggered a tsunami that spread completely across the Indian Ocean and devastated dozens of nations including Somalia.  To make the catastrophe worse, radio-active material began to wash on shore causing dozens of deaths and numerous sicknesses.  

As the Somali people watch the West become wealthier and wealthier they began to feel more and more forgotten and helpless.  What more value is Somalia than a place for our ships to travel through, and our companies to dump their garbage?  And is it not at the cost of floundering nations like Somalia that we become fat and rich?  In no way am I condoning the actions of the pirates, as their tactics are down-right criminal, I am merely drawing attention the the paradox of humanity.  We pillage at the expense of others, and what does our pillaging really bring us but a lonely soul and a hunger for more?  This is a lesson history has taught generation after generation and we never seem to learn.   We still remain lonely.  We still long for more.  We are like a ship lost at sea, full of booty, but haunted by the ghosts of our conquest.   

http://www.voanews.com/english/archive/2005-02/2005-02-23-voa23.cfm

If there were a set of words

That could make this world work

Would you use your voice to free

This thorn from my flesh?

If I could buy you a home

Walls to keep you safe from harm

Would I use my will for you 

or Would I steal again

Sorrow is our song chorus

Sing as one voice all people

History bleeds as our Ghosts cry

For more than this life

Our ship has lost its course

And we can't see through the fog

Haunted by the waves below

Silence is our great foe

Was our pillaging worth

All this loneliness here?

We're so scared to drown and 

Face the truth of our lust

Some day we will fall into an

Ocean of sovereign seas

Where your love reigns  o'er suffering

Come soon, please come soon, heavenly

Before and After Us.

Today I spent some time with my 96 year old great-grandmother.  She was born in 1913.  She has seen a lot of life.  She's had a front seat to incredible inventions, the birth and death of nations, family growing and changing, and an unending list of life's surprises.  We tried to talk with her but she kept complaining about her hearing aid not working.  I felt helpless in helping my mothers', mothers', mother.  I wish I could make it so she could hear. 

Whenever I share space and conversation with her I am humbled by how much more life she has experienced.   I sometimes wish that our life lessons were passed down so that memories of wars, lovers, deaths, and births were inherited by each new generation.  This fantasy ignited my imagination to wonder about the rest of my family, and how their life journeys' have crafted who I have become.  

It is said that to understand the future you most first understand the past.  Undoubtedly our world has been shaped by our forefathers and foremothers, and conversely the future of this world will grow into what we make it.    This is both exhilarating and burdensome.  I hope I can do a good job, as my parents are apart of the baby-boom generation, the generation that has left their mark on earth like none before them.  Theirs is a time that democracy thrived, liberty prevailed, prosperity engulfed, and companies, countries, and computers were created.   I'm honored to at some point in my future, take the baton and run the proverbial marathon of life.  As Richard Parker, grandfather of Spiderman, said, "With great power comes great responsibility." 

I don't know who reads this, but take a moment and reflect on who brought you into this world, how their stories created your story.  Were there battles fought? What tough choices were made?  What risks were taken?  Are there heroes?  How far back can you go? Organizations envisioned? Sacrificed made, selfless and giving?  Migrations? Tragedies? Miracles?

Imagine really cool music to these lyrics:

Break the pulse of love

When Dusk has come 

And all will fall

Into the spring of heavenly

This day is ending

She cannot hear 

But in her ear the tambourine

A hundred years of life fades

her days are ending

This is my family, I would not trade it in

I am their beloved son, California raised

Grandpa fought a war

Met his wife on Alaskan shores

Where she came so adventurous

My fathers' parents

Grandma met her man in Wyoming

They took the train

Bound for the city by the bay

My mothers' parents

This is my ancestry, Wars and Medicine

I am their beloved son, California raised

Burns, the toughness of

My fathers love

He had it hard 

But faithfulness and all he gave

Will measure who he is to me

Warm, the softness of

My mothers love

She puts her faith in God

And prays for us like he hears her words

This is my history, shared over red wine

I am their beloved son, California raised

Waves crash the beach

Nearby where my sister sleeps

She is my only sibling 

and I love her so

Spring, today is spring

And I reflect 

On all I have

And all I've seen 

And all I am 

and I am blessed

This is my family, I would not trade it in

I am their beloved son, California raised

Aching for North

For the past week or so I have seen more Monarch Butterflies than any other time in my life.  These frail, winged creatures are on their annual migratory flight pattern back to Canada for the Summer and they just happened to grace the Tri-Valley along the way.  At one point the other day I could see dozens of them in every direction, all fleeing from the South pushing on towards the great North.  As I marveled at this natural phenomenon I began to wonder and ponder about the all relating factors contributing to these tiny insects' exodus.  What is pushing them North and why?  Along the journey these Monarchs have transitioned multiple generations of flies as they have reproduced numerous times since their last struggle North.  Each generation picks up where the last left off; North in the Spring, South in the Fall.  This means that NONE of the butterflies I witnessed have even seen the majestic North, they were only following the call of their ancestral instinct, the relentless hunger for progression.  

What does that feel like?  I'd imagine it's like having an unquenchable thirst for flight.  To feel the air around your wings.  It's like an undying urge to follow suit with the countless other Monarchs that are your family on the well traveled path of destiny.  I'd imagine it must be a longing like no other, and unyielding urgency to venture to the next location and then the next.  It must be such a strong calling that every ounce of your being craves for nothing more than the North. You dream about, think about, and live about it.  Here is my question:  What massive intrinsic endeavors are we as humans destined to set forth on?  What soul longings do we posses?  What is our North?  What are the things we MUST do with our lives?  Purpose, destiny, calling, eternity? 

All I know is I want to go North like the monarchs.  Before myself multiplied millions of my ancestors explored creation, philosophized theology, established nations, and accomplished incomprehensible feats all with the hopes of finding some sort of worthwhile truth.  I want to follow my predecessors in this divinely historic mass migration towards the unknown.  I want to feel the flight of mystery.  I want to experience the fatigue of endless travel.  I want the wind to brush across my face as I soar through the clouds.  I don't know what the final destination is, but I imagine that like the great Monarchs, each stop is not the finish, just the beginning of a new adventure.  

Inhale love, exhale worries

The other day I had a moment of release.  I've had trouble writing about it because I can't figure out how to put words to something I still don't fully understand.  See, I'm the type of person that over-thinks, over-analyzes, and over-worries my life.  I have trouble living in the moment and truly celebrating the miraculous joy of the present.  Instead I tend to burden myself with always worrying that I'm not as good as I could be, that I'm doing it wrong, or that I'm missing the mark.  I always seem to ask myself what I could have done better in every circumstance.  While this perspective has its benefits because it forces me to always challenge myself, it paralyzes me from savoring the gift of "here and now", because I'm always obsessed with the future pressure of "what if I'm doing this wrong?".  

It was two weeks ago that I visited her and it all changed in an unexpected moment.  In the midst of the most personal affection, tenderness, and romance I felt the presence of the Almighty.  I began to let go of my cherished fear of screwing up like a deep breath held too long.  I looked upon the beauty of my beloved and released my insecurities with a sincere sigh as I took refuge in the shelter of her care.  Through the touch of the person who knows me like no one else, I inhaled the spirit of love.  Like a wave of cold ocean water, freedom swept over my soul as I released all of my long held doubts, fears, and guilt into the arms and embrace of a human being I don't deserve to know.   In truth it was a significant marker in my life that I will not forget anytime soon as I inhaled love and exhaled worries.

I don't write about this to sound deep, intelligent, or profound.  I hope I didn't come across that way.  I posted this note for my  for my own personal record so I will never forget that moment.  The moment when my Father gifted me love.  

Capitalism and the New Spiritual Warfare

This last year has been a whirlwind for many of us.  Trillions of dollars of wealth, savings, and income have disappeared.  Many people speculate that it's just the beginning.  Oddly enough, all of the economic turmoil has metamorphosed me into a deeper believer of Spiritual Warfare, but not in the way you think.  Spiritual Warfare is typically portrayed as an epic battle of prayer and discipline fought by demons and angels who are controlled and ordered around by our wizard-like religious spells.  We pray for, against, and with angelic beings we've never seen or understand beyond metaphors and fables.  This is the most traditional and common definition of Spiritual Warfare.  While this is valid and mysteriously attractive, I don't know about it, and frankly I have yet to be convinced of the presence of this type of Spiritual reality in our culture but I have, as of late, become increasingly aware of different Spiritual reality within our secular, post religious, capitalist culture that is even more pressing and urgent.  

I'll start by explaining the spiritual reality of a middle-schooler.  For some reason many kids between about the ages of 12 and 15 come to a life threshold where they must choose between becoming good or bad.  No matter how fantastic of a support structure they may have, the complexities of their heart come down to what they find more entertaining and compelling.  If a student finds the adrenaline of getting into trouble more magnetic than the fulfillment of doing the right thing often enough kids will go down the road of destructive, negative behavior.  It may start with goofing off in class but it potentially leads to damaging activities like deceitfulness, delinquency, and drugs.   A youths life direction can often hinge on wether or not they are drawn to the right activities.  It all comes down to what their heart longs for and desires to do most.  If I, as a youth worker, can convince a student to love making productive, positive, and redemptive choices they will likely lead a life of good rather than bad.  What I'm describing is an invisible battle over kids hearts'.  It is, in itself, a spiritual battle.    

Apply this battle of hearts to adults on a larger scale and you have the modern state of our economy.  The current recession was not spawned by a famine, global war, or natural disaster,or any other physical event or movement, but by the very ambiguous direction of mans' heart.  You see our capitalist system, which I'm a firm believer in, allows great freedom and liberty.  It provides the forum of creativity for people to accomplish historically unprecedented feats like modern medicine, technology, and philosophy while at the same time offers the same freedom for tragically negative movement and trends.  Our current economic meltdown was ignited by nothing more than greed, which is a state of man's heart, a state that is in essence spiritual.  People exploited one-another over and over until the system broke.  It was greed that caused investment bankers to package risky home loans together and greed that caused banks to give loans to people who didn't qualify.  As mass community, our national heart was corrupted by the intoxicating temptation of money, power, influence, and success (Don't we learn anything from the past?).

The challenge for us is to change our hearts.  The change of hearts is not a physical struggle.  Our hearts are invisible, they are spiritual.  I've become convinced that our current economic wake-up call is a lesson in Spiritual Warfare, to win over the hearts of men and women for things that are good, not bad, loving, not selfish, and giving, not greedy.  The warfare we are being called to engage in is a battle of hearts, a battle that is more spiritual than we may understand.  This is a moment of great opportunity as once calloused hearts have become softened to the uncertainty what may come next.  Let us begin to wrestle with the very core of the Spiritual reality, a mans' heart.