Flash Trending

The Ripple Effect circles out and avenges my IPhone with static, and maybe a Mexican Radio here and there, on this Cinco-DeMayo Morning.  The phone reports of a battle long past fought between Mexico and France.  France?

Loving the Future

A farmer in the field sees the shadow moving across the land, the shadow is complexity filled:   hope-despair, fear-brave, but then the word became flesh. The blue rooster cried out for rain, but the clouds would not open up, upon the white painted barn.  If only rain could collect on the field parched by the sun.   Vultures floated, as if bad omens.  

 As the dark purple cloud moves across his farm rising the dust up in whirling eddies he rests on his shovel.  He rested and all around him he heard the sound of dried wheat stalks swaying in the wind.   Dust tickled his throat.  He coughed.  He held onto his hat made of straw, he feared it would blow away.  All the land was thirsty, but his farmers almanac did not report any rain. The almanac had not said one word about banks calling in bank loans.

The farmer smiled.  He thought of all of the bank notices that were collecting on his kitchen table. The table was dust-filled, he had written S.O.S. in the dust, as a message maybe to a UFO or was it God?  He had borrowed on the banks in order to plant this year's crop. The year before all was wasted. By one hail storm! This year the drought! And still the banks called and called and called and called upon the isolated farmer.  The banks had lent the farmer money, and were now calling about the loan.   The banks not paid, sent yellow foreclosure notes. The official notes laid like a deck of tarot cards played by a psychic at the county fair.  The wood of the table held secrets from forgotten conversations.  Recorded in its wood so long ago.

The horror, of official visits from official representatives of the good old banks, was a serene nightmare.

The land had been with his family for sixty years.  His great grandfather had bought the land in 1866 a year after coming back to the Carolinas.  A year after killing his last soldier in blue.   His great grandfather hoped for a new beginning in Ohio.   A land of promise, a land that was fertile and ready for growing.  The land had been a stage of marriages, burials, and harvest festivals.   A place where one called home.  

The farmer knew his life here in Ohio was endangered. But still the farmer smiled. He joyfully accepted the plundering of his property for he knew what the bible declared, you will have a better possession an abiding one....He knew this land belonged to God. If God's will was to sell the land than so be it, no worries. Even if this meant working at a factory in Cincinnati, or in Cleveland.  He hoped beyond hope that he could move on from here.  But all he knew was the tending of the farm.  He smiled through the broken dreams and gutter swamps of his mind. Because he had an abiding possession that would never fade from Glory.

He looked at his hands and smiled.   Locusts played their legs. He wish he could have seen the sign of the times, he wish he could have seen the seven years of bad, and seven years of good.  He would have sold the farm the year before and have some change in his pockets.  But now all he had was faith in God and a smile that stated, "So be it!"

The wind scooped up the top soil.

He recalled his bible reading today Hebrews 10:32-39.  And he said to himself: "Amen!"

Haiku from Lost Note

Border land fences
psychic razor barbed lines
cut by crow's talons. <  I found this note while cleaning up my work room. The note read This borderland has fences made of psychic razor wire. So I thought of a black crow sitting on a wire cutting away the wire. Why does the crow not get electrocuted? Well these are the borderland states where some things just are as they are and there is no point in attempting to reason them out. One must just understand them by a little faith. I am influenced right now by Stephen King in his Dark Tower series and by Jung's notes on Dreams. These create a sense of the mysterious borderland .

Do not throw any notes away without putting it into some form so that you can capture the moment. Haiku or some sort of Haiku it does not have to be confined to the static form, but the form helps frame the thought. Especially if the note stirs you in anyway. If the note makes you cringe than please keep this idea. Any idea that has a sort of emotive power has the ability to bring us to some place else.

Haikus: Birds on A Stormy Day

Blue rooster crowed 

the clouds opened upon

the painted white barn.

Rain poodles downward, 

collecting on the filed 

parched by the sun.

Surfin' on the wind 

vultures float on up 

then speed on down.

White Egrets lined

sentries on a parade route, 

spartan and solid.

Hebrews 4:14-5:10 English Standard Version (ESV) 16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

He boldly stood before the threshhold repeating to himself the old hymn:



"I will enter his grace with trembling in my heart.
I will enter his grace with praise.
I will rejoice for he has made me glad.
I will enter his gates with praise.
I will rejoice for he has made me glad."


The congregation he had been part of echoed in the chamber of his mind.   He looked into the infinite space and trembled.   The congregation built his courage up.   "He has made me glad... I will enter his gates with praise." He repeated to himself as he was terrified at the emptiness that laid before him past his green spaceship.    He remembered the pastor talking of the "LORD's Shekinah Glory".
  He had gone through the ritual of purification, for he had to be pure to enter the LORD's infinite temple.   His natural self would never be allowed in this space.  But he was ready to commune with the LORD in the infinite space of his temple.  
So he thought, "Have I done enough? Am I ready to enter?  Will I return back home?" But doubt trembled inside... as he took a step into infinite space.

The white out on 1-25 washed away our vision.  It had been a warm December day when my dad and I arrived at Mile High Stadium,  now it was freezing and the snow was coming down.   The snow came down hard and we were forced to pull aside at every exit in order to see through the front car window.   Our headlights were no longer blazing the trail because the snow had blanketed them with a white fury coat.

The Initial Dreams of Jung

{November 21, 1979 (Daniel is 5)} 
Again and again the witch visited my dreams. She came as a woman in a black veil.  I could hear her weep beneath the veil.  She wept again and again as the tears filled up my room.   Tears kept coming and a foot of water pooled at the side of my bed.  And the water heaved; expanding into a pool besides my bed. 

She wept again, and I pulled up, my "Star-Wars" flannel bed sheets, I climbed underneath the covers and laid in curled up and sucked my thumb.   I attempted to create a cave where the witch would not get me. 

The flannel cave was free of any light. I was enclosed in darkness.    

But then I would fall asleep again the woman with a black veil would come into my room.   
I could hear the cries outside the cave.  

  (7:22)