Thursday, July 30, 2009

The present

The Future of my Past

I come from there
I wash my face in it in the morning
I dress myself with it's colour
It is who I am
Genetically mutated by my past
It is whom I take into the future
My past, pre-dispostions me
So that my future prejusdices me
It is who I am and it will cloud whom I become
I am forever changed, but keep being the same
The past formed me for a future just like this one
And it's called the present,
A gift from the past to the future.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Friday, June 12, 2009


So easily we look upon the times of our lives and refer to them as phases. There is the terrible two's, a phase when independence is tasted and suddenly what was a soft cuddly infant becomes a terrorist, that sabotages everything you atempt to do for them.

Then there is the shy phase, the naked phase, the teenager phase and much later the midlife crises phase.

Why do we call these times of change and self awareness phases? Like we just can't wait to get to the other side of this time. Write it off as a bad time?

We are lothing these special moments, but instead we should celebrate them.

I am going through a phase and so my family is going through this phase too. They want to get the other side of this time, but this it part of who I am becoming. This is not a phase, as much as going through puberty is not a phase, but a change after which you never can go back to how it was.

Saying that you long for the time before the phase would be uttering nonsence. When you get born, you are endowed with a certain set of skills to transform - a little like evolution. You were always going to change, it is in your genes after all.

So if the family wants you to return to what you were before the phase. It would be like trying to make the butterfly go back to being a worm.

Phased? Let me know.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Monday, March 2, 2009

Insignificance amongst the greats of the past

My recent travels in the UK gave me a whole new view on my real place in this world. When facing a building that took 250 years to build, you start understanding how small you really are.

Today our expectations are that we could design and build all our dreams in a singular lifetime, but really good things take a a lot longer.Just take the Minstry in York. Every rock carved out of a solid slab to fit perfectly on the rock below it. In today's engineering world, everything is mass produced for as little as possible (the bricks we build with today are not custom sized for anything other than productivity) and we often dream of a standard like - all vehicles use the same size oil filter.

But the rocks on the Minstry and on so many other old historic buildings were each custom made just for the block below it. Unlike the song that used to be so popular in the 1980's and earlier with the words that say "...we are just another brick in the wall..." these stones are each unique and specially chiseled to fit just in that spot.

What makes this analogy even more of a trip is that the rock it is build of is perhaps millions of years old. If I had to determine the age of the Minstry by its components it would be calculated to be millions of years old. A faulty rational that doesn't seem to bother any of the evolutionist cronies.

I walked into the Minstry and there I saw art that was handmade. Now remember that this art form is not into wood or metal that you could melt and pour into some form to assure the repetitive accuracy of the end product, but from rock. Hard rock that was slowly chipped away at till it reached perfection. Perfection was the only thing that was good enough for an altar in any of these great buildings of yesteryear. Mostly places of worship that stood the test of time. I imagined the work that went into every detail of those wonderful buildings and I wondered if I would have been able to do that which was before me.

To understand me a little better I need to reveal that I am the kind of person that has very little fear in taking on something I have never done before. I watch extreme sports on TV and I find a force driving me to try it myself, but when I stood before these sculptures and pictured myself doing it, it brought a type of fear over me that I had never felt before. The person doing this work had to have the patience of a saint. Tirelessly, but never mindlessly, he had to chip and scratch away at the granite and marble. Big slabs of continuous stone with motif after motif on it. Portraits of different people who might have been men and woman of great esteem during this era of religious faith. And repeating intricate shapes flawlessly. Now working with marble or any rock, there are many small inconsistencies in these very hard materials and just think how long it must have taken one young man to produce such a fete of wonder. He might have had to work on it more than a year with his primitive tools and perhaps at the very end of this piece of work he loses his concentration and chips away a piece of rock that should still be part of the larger sculpture. What happened then. This was the fear I was feeling.I went to everyone and looked for the error, but found not one. I can only think that the young man started over. But that's okay, because he started on his work 4 lifetimes before the due date for the delivery of this magnificent building.

If I was to start such a venture in those days, it was my son's son's son's son that would be at the inaugurational service and he would be the one to praise God in this magnificent building so fitting for service. A building that was the life's work of thousands of people over several generations. Families of workers, whose greatest fete was to have their sons carry on the work that they begun. The final completion of these churches was not witnessed by the layers of the foundation, but the completed product brought honour to all that lived their lives for its final blessing. A blessing of worship that would continue for many more generations than the 5 it took to erect it.

I stood inside these cathedrals and felt the presences of angels. Here was evidences of tears that was spilt form many for the lost souls of this world. Many a sinner became a saint on bended knee, within these pews and it was as if their prayers were still faintly echoing within those thick walls of stone. I could see how one would treasure such a building in your community. A place where there is so much beauty to behold, you might even forget about the pain you came there with, the reason you brought your prayer there. Surely if God was anywhere it had to be there.

As I was taking this all in, it occurred to me that in the same way, we are part of the generations of workers that build on the church of Christ. A building of the souls of people amongst whom God will dwell and where He will be worshiped. This church is the real McCoy, this church will forever stand. We have opportunity to be part of the workforce to build this ultimate building, that He calls - His church. And just like the young man, we would have to start over when we make a mistake. Herein is the patience of the saints that they labour on even though the rewards lay many generations into the future. And like the workers of the Minstry, Peter, Paul and John who laid the foundations to this church, bare honour with all who labour for its completion. How great that day when God pitches up for the that great inaugural service, but until then we labour on.

Another prelude to love is...

Love between a man and a woman was said to be started by the god Eros. Also know as Cupid, he shoots his arrow into the eye of the person and this arrow finds its way down to the heart. The reason for the arrow, to give some sort of understanding of the pain that comes with love. I'm guessing that this is especially true for lost love. There has been accounts of people simply dying from a broken heart. The will to continue, without the love in their grasp, disappears like the setting sun.

Is love depended upon a receiving party or can it exist alone. I believe that love has to be shared to be fulfilling, but it is possible to love another without that love being answered completely.

Love that exists in a shared environment and then is denied by one of the parties involved, becomes a tragedy. It is here that betrayal and deceit tear things apart till the only thing that is left, is the arrow stabbed through the heart. So great is the pain that is felt, one can hardly keep breathing. There is no cure and the pain can only be numbed when you numb everything, and that is essentially death. So frankly - love is the most dangerous of things to experience. Once you've been invaded by love, life as you knew it is over. Your new life has begun.

For some crazy reason, so many lives that are changed in this fashion, end on the jagged rocks below. The most precious gift of all gifts is simply abandoned or abused, taken for granted or betrayed. One can be betrayed in life on many fronts, but betrayed love leaves you with no recourse, no comeback, no stitches for the deep lacerations afflicted to your tender heart. Many become vindictive, an attempt to answer their own pain with the pain they might be able to inflict. Somewhere in their deepest Id they reason that the pain is connected to the object of their love. Take the object away and the pain will also go away, but, and this is a big BUT, what they don't understand is that the pain is there because the lover had the anti-serum for the pain that the arrow was inflicting. So the only real cure for the pain is to get the person to fall in love with you again.

Substitute love is often used, but substitute love will always be less than fulfilling. Your heart is "given away", stabbed by Cupid's arrow and the love you receive can't be stored, because it leaks out.

So there is no solution other than death? I'm not saying it. I know the God of the universe and He knows me. He is all powerful and in His hands, I know, lays healing. But like any cut on the body there will remain a scar. And as far as hearts go, they can't take too many cuts. You might say that God can do anything, but just remember that He was the One that made the heart this way!

Friday, February 27, 2009

Love is...

This might be my greatest work yet. I struggle to bring this one in, but in it must come so come back to see it soon right here. Guaranteed to alter the way you see many a thing, it did it for me and it'll do it to you. People I tell find something happening inside forever, changing.