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jlives's blog: "Deliberate Life"

created on 03/07/2008  |  http://fubar.com/deliberate-life/b195537

Grace

A man sits naked in the dark. His fetal posture rests him somewhat. The darkness calms as he rests his head on his propped forearm. In the back of his mind he wonders if his spirit is slowly seeping through his skin, dissolving into the atmosphere while sitting and praying alone in the closet. His own breathing lulls him into a soft conversation, a relished love exchange and as he breathes he thinks how it sounds oddly like another's breath. He rests in the rhythm. Deep reservoirs burst within him when more of his soul empties and he cries, though the rhythm doesn't change. Sweet release, he thinks. "Render me fit...", he inhales, "...to receive more of Thy grace", he exhales. The breaths become the prayer when he runs out of his words.

The Art of BEING

Oh, the brilliance of a lazy Sunday. We are reminded on such warm and fuzzy days the value of just being. The act of "being" rather than doing or planning to do. It is that one day a week that is overlooked by the average American, caught up in the get-stuff-done mentality. "After laundry, I need to clean out the cat box and make sure that the sitting room is presentable for later when we watch a movie.. Oh, crap, I forgot to get the movie. Make sure the doors are locked and while I'm out, I need gas, yes, mustn't forget gas... " and ON and ON and ON. Shocking how the act of just being is lost art, a lost discipline. To be fully present in the moment, rather than thinking on a dozen other things for a later date... that has great value. It allows a person to appreciate the present, as is the desired goal for all present moments. Its a lost art indeed. Go and sit. If you're with someone, be fully there, with them, not thinking about the laundry or work tomorrow. If you're alone, think on the satisfaction of knowing that this moment, this time and space in life can be owned and deliberately enjoyed by you. Go and abide in the act of being. We so easily forget the value of 'nothing time'.

Excellence

Excellence isn't stumbled upon. We notice those few, seldom known, shining stars and we raise our hands high to grasp at them. We stare endlessly upward in mediocre attempts to befriend or become like them. There is where we stop. Do we really believe that they have grown so bright and so high by staring and lifting their hands? THESE are the ones who've writhed in Obstacle's heavy strike, relished in its processes. THESE are the ones of dedication who've sought more than to look at potential from afar. Those of excellence have jumped willingly into a refiner's fire and have given up comfortable things for jagged sacrifice. Put down you hands and run.... RUN into the face of this challenge and be burnt alive by the passion to be great. Work at THAT flame and on some indistinct day...you'll notice you're looking down rather than up.

A Moment of Clearity

So there I was, sitting on the top of a hill that over looks 2200 acres of rolling farmland cascading graciously for as far as the eye can see. I'm sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of an old but gorgeous log cabin, circa 1840. The sun is floating downward as if on a slow moving chariot drawn by horses of nobiliy and I'm listening to a full band play to an audience of 5. There are deer off in the distance grazing in the twilight and further down the mile long driveway I can make out an eagle perched on the top of a well-kept rustic barn cuddling an overfilled pond. There is an apropos breeze teasing the leaves of near by cedars and when the band finishes each song, the silence screams. The scene becomes a water color painting as my eyes fill with grateful tears. The band begins to play an original called, "Thank you song", with an opening line of "I thank you for the things you do and all you give to me." I am unable to move my glass of wine to my lips due to my ethereal state of appreciation so I just sit there, accepting and appreciating, becoming a grander part of the present, a grander part of the love that my God choses to rain upon me, his child.

What Gives

Why can’t we understand that the nature of things is to be love and to make our lives become our dreams And where has our bravery gone when someone, through tears, says our God is wrong What gives that we don’t know how to act when the old man on the corner requests money for crack And how come we cannot figure out what to say when our friend confides in us that he is gay Here we are in the midst of a life given in love thrust into the strife of living for the above and we don’t know what the angst we feel is meant to do while we run and play, going about our day, caught up in the untrue Oh sure, we put our hands together and bow our heads at the footsteps of our beds but are we praying with and to the lord or are we thinking of what we need and how we’re bored “I think you should come with me, sir. I’ve got a warm bath for you and a cup of tea, sir” Could have been a good response to that homeless gentleman who wanted drug money for his reckless addiction. “I love you no matter what bro. You know that, no matter what you are or where you go” Could have been a good response to that homosexual friend who shattered his fear to tell you his world and to let you in. But instead we pretend the homeless don’t exist We avert our eyes, which is worse than fists. And as for our brave friend we say, “you know, it really is too bad you’re gay” And we just don’t stop to think and pray and be the love of God to those in need. We just blather on in pride while letting our egos be our guide not forgetting about that angst that comes from living outside of our heavenly ranks. Not next time, but this, when you have the chance to look away or raise your fists Be a man of God and love, become the rank you are, in the above.
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