15 Mar 2005

I could be reduced to a random gesture of this world,
a stray thought of the cosmos as it dreaming observes itself…
but none can ever take away from me this moment I seize.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:03 am

14 Mar 2005

I have decided that I will not worry anymore. I have decided to be like “...the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” [Matthew 6:26 NRSV] I have decided I will not “...worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own,” that “today’s trouble is enough for today.” [Matthew 6:34 NRSV] For I have fretted in the past, as when I was unemployed or some strife was hounding me — but every time, something came up, something happened, and I was taken care of. And then each new time something else befell me, I would worry again: o me of little faith. But no more of that, I think. My Lord watches over me, though I little think of it, and I realize finally that I will always be rescued. No — it is not to be frivolous with such a gift, not irresponsible — but to keep in faith, to keep in good cheer. My Lord hears even the smallest sparrow fall. And I am worth many sparrows. [See Matthew 10:29–31.]

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

12 Mar 2005

Charity is like saving up for the afterlife.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:03 am

A. G. Rizzoli: The Sayanpeau

Click on the pic for a larger version.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

11 Mar 2005

Do unto others… you know the rest — or do you, really?

Prepare for the miracle, and it will still take you by surprise.

If you forgot to love, you missed the whole point.

Dream of Heaven, but live here and now.

Imagine God loves you the best; now, imagine that for everyone.

There is no place you need to go to find yourself.

A simple dream fulfilled is better than the grandest one unsatisfied.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

10 Mar 2005

I imagine that there are things that time will never reveal. That there be things that are truly forgotten by all reckonings, that there be secrets never shared, and no one will dig them from the graves in which they lie. In the grand scheme of things, I believe that there will be to know a forgetting of things, just like there will be a remembering, and just as meaningful — when you can put things behind you and think of them no more. We do not need to fret over every little happenstance that ever flutters through us. We need not shine light on all the darkness that ever was. Some darkness, we will let it lie, and move on.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

8 Mar 2005

I laughed at death, until I realized death wasn’t laughing with me.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:09 am


I will return to this place,
where my spirit rests, this
frame of reference for my soul:
time can make of me
someone else completely, I think,
and I must remember
who I was if I am to correctly see
what this “becoming” thing
is all about. Without
that I see the trail behind me,
how can I know if I’ve gotten anywhere?
Meaning requires history.
And this place is not a place,
but a way of seeing things,
but I think that even every place
that is verily a place can be
a means of seeing oneself:
where are you now?
And you may even ask your own self,
where have you been all my life?
Then, this last one knows you better
than you know yourself:
where are you going to?

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:08 am

7 Mar 2005

I think I finally understand something about why things go the way they go. If you recall, I have been flirting with the idea that some sublime goal of mine was within reach — and this got me, if nothing else, real scared. Now, John Lennon said that life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans — yes, but then there are these rare moments of clarity, when you can see what is around you, when you can be full of the moment, here, now, and live as one is meant to live. To seize the day, to be at the place you wanted to be, to be doing what you wanted to be doing — not by being or doing anything different, but being at peace with what all that happens, to find in you the rhythm to life.

What I understand now is that what I was seeking was not what I was seeking, that my plans were not what they seemed to be, nor were its goals. I realize that going on the journey is just as good — in some ways, better. And it may be that I was wrong when I thought I was on the brink of achieving something great, but it was just enough of a taste to make me realize what a good thing I have going in finding my way there. I realize, finally, that this is the good stuff, the throwaways of life, the filler material, the stuff happening every day while one usually pines for a brighter day. The day is plenty bright when one has eyes to see. Sometimes the only change we need to be happy is a new perspective.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:11 am

5 Mar 2005

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I’ll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
“Come in,” she said,
“I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

– Bob Dylan

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:16 am

A. G. Rizzoli: La Regina Della Vista Dolores

Click on the pic for a larger version.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:12 am

4 Mar 2005

Live like you were meant to. Don’t ask how — you’ll find you know already.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

I find I am still prone to bs, to lie, if you want to be harsh about it. I don’t know how to get around it, wonder whether even saints can be absolutely honest all the time. I make up stories. I have been making up stories since I was quite young; perhaps 12 years old or so. And I wonder, could I tap this for a good cause? Is there some bs in me that I might use creatively, or does my mind only really get going in this vein when I am pressed in real life, when I might get some immediate, substantive benefit for it? I know I have not tapped into it like that as of yet, for I have written short stories, but not even the best one matches the characterization, the plot, the thematic genius of some of my lies. Or… hm. Maybe my memory exaggerates, and they’re not so great either, my bs stories — it’s just that they have worked so many times, given me many conveniences…. (I am made to wonder how well Dostoevsky could lie. Or Shakespeare. I bet they told doozies.)

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

3 Mar 2005

When we are saved, we are at home in the universe; and, in principle and in the main, feeble and timid creatures as we are, there is nothing anywhere within the world or without it that can make us afraid.

– Bernard Bosanquet

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:04 am

I once wandered to the outer border of the dreamtime.
Oblivion was nothing like I ever had imagined it:
the impenetrable, immovable, the null of death’s door.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:03 am

1 Mar 2005

I have understood only barely of tragedies that assail one’s faith, bring him to the brink of giving up, of “It is too much; I can no longer believe.” Now, it was not the recent tsunami that made me think anything along these lines, but the case of the BTK murders, still in the headlines. The tsunami, however huge, was an impersonal thing; because of the sheer number of people that were killed in one fell swoop, it seemed almost surreal, something that the mind could not comprehend — so big that a finite consciousness could not properly wrap his mind around it. But the BTK murders, that someone could consciously, purposefully do that to another human being — it was incomprehensible in quite another way. It was a personal thing: I could picture it, if I wanted to; we all have seen enough movies to be able to see in our heads something as gruesome as this with little or no problem. I could say that the tsunami affected me in a similar way as 9/11 did — I was unable to assimilate something that was that much larger than me. But what one human could do to another individual, and then another, however heinous: that was within my province of knowing, if only in scraps of horrid imagination.

In between the flashes of twisted fantasia, the thought of how God could allow such evil to happen briefly brushed by. It made me think, made me see how it could happen, how one could have seen enough wrong and wronged not to be able to prop up within himself the idea of a God who was all good. I found I could not myself find fault in the sincere doubter, the one for whom the problem of evil, the problem of so much pain, made him not able to keep kindling in his heart the last embers of his faith. But then, however, a thought came upon me, from the mouth of Paul: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.” [Romans 8:18 NRSV] And I thought, Paul was not one who was trivializing the pain, but glorifying God — on the correct scale. Thus, if you could imagine it, was the true glory of the Lord: that these incredible sufferings that happen (and they were no lighter in the time of Paul): they are not worth comparing to the good to come. And I hoped within my heart I could remember this, if it ever came to me, if my faith were ever so tested. Even if it meant only to hold on, desperately.

As I travel as I may down these volatile paths, it is only a fool’s hope that tragedy never will strike me, that there will never be pain — but I may pray, still, for something: that I be strong enough to withstand when it does. For that would be a piece of the glory, right there. Hallelujah.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:11 pm

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