I am at the end of my rope with my Christian brothers and sisters. Last night at work, I was tuning into some FM Christian talk station and they were talking about their rally against Proposition 8 aka the right for homosexuals to get married. In this rant, they said "We know people are going to think we are bigots, but we are just standing firm in the gospel of Jesus Christ.". Do these false prophets not realize what gospel even means? Nay, do they even understand what Jesus Christ means?
The gospel means "the good news". And Jesus Christ's good news was that of compassion for your fellow man. Universal acceptance and care, no matter who you are and what you believe.
Yes, the Old Testament does reference "no man shall lie in bed with another man" and that the sanctity of marriage should be between "man and woman". Is this the gospel of Jesus Christ Himself? No. The Old Testament is all but irrelevant since the times of Christ. Don't get me wrong, some of my favorite prayers and meditations have been in the Old Testament. But that's just it! I didn't just look into the word by word, I looked into the SPIRIT OF GOD whilst reading. These "fundamentalists" and their followers are creating this lukewarm and frankly CONDEMNING depiction of our Lord to the world.
That's another thing; people were calling in with their full support. They are having rallies. They are setting up websites. They have legions of followers for a message of hate masked as the gospel.
But you know what? I'm not just targeting them. I'm targeting even those Christians who DO support gay marriage. Who are "progressive" in their faith and are thought to be "very radical and liberal".
You say these things about yourself and you say you are tolerant. You support gay marriage, but yet you get offended when a Mosque is built in your town? You're a "radical thinker", but yet you scoff at the Mormon church?
Now ask yourself, is that really tolerance at all?
I say these things because my dear friends, I was one of them. But Jesus Himself said "A house divided against itself cannot stand". And lately, I have not been standing. I've been crushed by my own tolerance delusion. I've been crushed by my lukewarm depiction of faith.
This is why it is so easy to shit on Christianity. This is why we are such a joke. Because we are so damn FOOLISH!
We can turn back all of this, though. Really root yourself and get back to the core of the real living Christ. If someone asks you to walk one mile, walk two. If you owe someone ten bucks, give them twenty. If you see a veteran in a wheelchair outside wal-mart, greet him with a smile and a God bless you. If you see a stranger struggling, offer yourself for prayer or just a hug.
Yes, there are serial killers. Yes, there are rapists. Yes, there are corrupted government officials. Yes, this world is very very VERY messed up. But don't hate the people. Don't condemn the people. Hate the evil that has a hold of them. Evil holds no one form; hate its ambiguity. Pray for deliverance. Pray for movement. Intercession and all consuming Fire.
Realize who Jesus is, make Him your core desire, and go from there. The cobblestones will be laid down one by one, and your faith will strengthen. And someday, Christianity WILL reflect the teachings and the heart of God Himself.
We just need to wake up out of our delusion.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Perceptions
Before I go into any rambling, I would just like to mention that the inside of my head feels like a big ball of air. No pressure, no pain..just taking up space. So please, pardon any unintelligible dribbling that may take place.
Today moved at the speed of molasses and it is quite draining. Factory life has become as such: clock in, blur out in process for 8 hours, clock out. My mind is beginning to play tricks on me as I work by jumping to a variety of different thoughts at once. Second by second, I am pondering some piece of philosophy that has been grasped out of nothingness. I begin thinking critically of our perceptions; of God, of life, of humanity, of success and of exchange of love and hate amongst one another. All the while, my hands are moving a plastic back hatch into a holster to be spring hooked, bumpered, riveted and stickered. I have begun to move on two different planes at once: physical and the beyond.
Early into the shift, I began to think about my end of the product that is being made. Three workers are breaking their backs and sweating to make a mass supply of back hatch coolers for Jeep Cherokees for soccer moms to stuff them full of sandwiches and capri suns for Johnny's soccer game. Will any of them ever consider to think about the people who made that? I then realized that I was one of those people; using things and not even being thankful of the hands that crafted it. We are a society COMPLETELY based on this notion: we take, we seldom give, and we've stopped thinking as a majority.
Now, place yourself in the eyes of the Father. Billions upon billions upon billions of humanistic life forms, thankless for the Hands of creation. Living day by day, taking without thinking. We're too busy waging wars concerning our religions, our finances, and our pride. We've evolved into a world of thankless separation because of our perceptions. The Bible, VOID OF THE SPIRIT OF I AM, is just a book. Poems and accounts written by men who, just like us, more than likely had a bone to pick with one anothers perceptions. Lost and confused in the sands of time, ancient scriptures have been taken as a pile of puzzles into the hands of our deceitful ways.
Muslim, Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, Atheist..whatever belief SYSTEM you hold; we are all becoming self absorbed to the point of no return. But in the eyes and heart of our Creator, it's not too late.
We can turn back all this. We can turn back all that we've created that has brought nothing but damage to this plane of existence.
How?
Be thankful.
For what?
Being able to wake up in the morning..
That's at least a start.
Today moved at the speed of molasses and it is quite draining. Factory life has become as such: clock in, blur out in process for 8 hours, clock out. My mind is beginning to play tricks on me as I work by jumping to a variety of different thoughts at once. Second by second, I am pondering some piece of philosophy that has been grasped out of nothingness. I begin thinking critically of our perceptions; of God, of life, of humanity, of success and of exchange of love and hate amongst one another. All the while, my hands are moving a plastic back hatch into a holster to be spring hooked, bumpered, riveted and stickered. I have begun to move on two different planes at once: physical and the beyond.
Early into the shift, I began to think about my end of the product that is being made. Three workers are breaking their backs and sweating to make a mass supply of back hatch coolers for Jeep Cherokees for soccer moms to stuff them full of sandwiches and capri suns for Johnny's soccer game. Will any of them ever consider to think about the people who made that? I then realized that I was one of those people; using things and not even being thankful of the hands that crafted it. We are a society COMPLETELY based on this notion: we take, we seldom give, and we've stopped thinking as a majority.
Now, place yourself in the eyes of the Father. Billions upon billions upon billions of humanistic life forms, thankless for the Hands of creation. Living day by day, taking without thinking. We're too busy waging wars concerning our religions, our finances, and our pride. We've evolved into a world of thankless separation because of our perceptions. The Bible, VOID OF THE SPIRIT OF I AM, is just a book. Poems and accounts written by men who, just like us, more than likely had a bone to pick with one anothers perceptions. Lost and confused in the sands of time, ancient scriptures have been taken as a pile of puzzles into the hands of our deceitful ways.
Muslim, Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, Atheist..whatever belief SYSTEM you hold; we are all becoming self absorbed to the point of no return. But in the eyes and heart of our Creator, it's not too late.
We can turn back all this. We can turn back all that we've created that has brought nothing but damage to this plane of existence.
How?
Be thankful.
For what?
Being able to wake up in the morning..
That's at least a start.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Seasons changing
Today was quite brisk and it was beautiful. September is in full swing and autumn is among a hands grasp. The smells and the sounds are beginning to march through like a parade in my dreams. Confetti like leaves being blown from trumpets being blown by dancing pumpkins. They dance to the rhythm of the footsteps of aching toes creaking on cold sidewalks and the hum of twisting winds in our hair.
This is a sort of season in which I take my mental self to a figurative log cabin somewhere in the Yukon and simply reflect. My factory life has become another part of my motion for now, so I have the ability to go into auto-pilot and go to town with my plotting. I've learned that everyone at my job is just like me: hurting and struggling to get out of here alive. A good majority have given up and just spent the past 35 years in routine, others still wish to get the hell out of there. Either way, I have found more humanity in such a robotic process than I have around mainstream society in awhile. Just like this weather, I am finding this refreshing.
On the other side of the coin, there have been nights lately where I have lost my faith that Jesus is still around. I began waking up in cold sweats thinking that we have all missed the rapture and we are all just left to rot ourselves in our delusion. The youth movement is hitting some serious snags amongst its improvements, and it is creating a lot of earthquakes under the feet of my faith. Praise God for catching me after the shakes, because I need the warmth of the Almighty to calm my convulsions. I will also admit to all of you that though I have reaffirmed my belief in God, there were also nights where I began losing belief in ourselves. I have a sick and twisted mind, to which I am full of much shame and sorrow. The body of Christ seems to be amputating parts of itself left and right, creating so much separation that we are just a pile of fleshly mess. It makes me sick to my stomach just typing it out and thinking about it. But then again, this is a season of my reflection..so it'll be here to marinate for awhile.
Alas, the leaves still change color and the dusky skies still bring a tear to my eye. I am reminded through this season that though we are a hurting and struggling people, we have a fantastic and beautiful artist somewhere on the other side. In our shame, in our compromises, in our delusions; He still gives us a love that out burns any star and a beauty that is reflected on such a season. Somewhere, there is still a hope.
This is the time to find it, because things are only going to get bumpier.
May the wind hold constant and cool our weary brows,
Shlomodamus
This is a sort of season in which I take my mental self to a figurative log cabin somewhere in the Yukon and simply reflect. My factory life has become another part of my motion for now, so I have the ability to go into auto-pilot and go to town with my plotting. I've learned that everyone at my job is just like me: hurting and struggling to get out of here alive. A good majority have given up and just spent the past 35 years in routine, others still wish to get the hell out of there. Either way, I have found more humanity in such a robotic process than I have around mainstream society in awhile. Just like this weather, I am finding this refreshing.
On the other side of the coin, there have been nights lately where I have lost my faith that Jesus is still around. I began waking up in cold sweats thinking that we have all missed the rapture and we are all just left to rot ourselves in our delusion. The youth movement is hitting some serious snags amongst its improvements, and it is creating a lot of earthquakes under the feet of my faith. Praise God for catching me after the shakes, because I need the warmth of the Almighty to calm my convulsions. I will also admit to all of you that though I have reaffirmed my belief in God, there were also nights where I began losing belief in ourselves. I have a sick and twisted mind, to which I am full of much shame and sorrow. The body of Christ seems to be amputating parts of itself left and right, creating so much separation that we are just a pile of fleshly mess. It makes me sick to my stomach just typing it out and thinking about it. But then again, this is a season of my reflection..so it'll be here to marinate for awhile.
Alas, the leaves still change color and the dusky skies still bring a tear to my eye. I am reminded through this season that though we are a hurting and struggling people, we have a fantastic and beautiful artist somewhere on the other side. In our shame, in our compromises, in our delusions; He still gives us a love that out burns any star and a beauty that is reflected on such a season. Somewhere, there is still a hope.
This is the time to find it, because things are only going to get bumpier.
May the wind hold constant and cool our weary brows,
Shlomodamus
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
A brief update from under the blue collar
Tonight was day three of chipping my ticket to the factory man for awhile until the next musical endeavor takes off into exploration. Needless to say, it has brought both the worst and the best from me. In my fits of frustration, I become this cursing and saliva spewing monster that absolutely wants to break everything and everyone in half. But on the other hand, I have become far more on point with my mental note taking.
More and more lately, I feel extremely pulled back from existence itself and feel as though I am peering into life through a window on the outside. My eyes are becoming a camera lens for those on the other side to spectate, but my body is tossed, turned and broken by the machines of this world. I'm typing this right now with scratched and irritated hands, who are longing to hold an instrument again. As cliche as it may sound, I am just not cut out for anything but my music. Call me a bum, call me lazy, call me what you will; I know who I am and what I am best at.
I am a vessel thats floating out on a turbulent sea, and the only thing that keeps my paddles sputtering is passion. If I am not passionate about something, I'm very apathetic towards that particular task or object. The only thing that gets me through walking out each and every night is this fact:
THIS IS ONLY TEMPORARY.
My eyes are fixed on getting back on the streets and moving with the Spirit and singing songs, but in the mean time I am completely blown away by how humans work. The factory is clouded with crushed dreams floating aimlessly amongst the blood, sweat, and fears. Yes, fears. A fear of being presented as vulnerable to a rookie or another superior. A fear that this might be the rest of someones life. A fear that you just might not be strong enough to make it to the end of a shift.
There is so much false confidence in that place; it basks in a stew of machismo and terrible Taz tattoos. The old Ian would find this absolutely depressing and at parts, it admittedly is. But there is a new birth in my mind chambers, and that is to peer in more in depth into peoples lives. Not in some creepy BTK killer sort of way, but in a fashion of being fascinated by anyone struggling to keep afloat day by day. Our existence is just one ongoing web of networking. Each string of silk with its own story to tell and it is absolutely beautiful.
Perhaps one day I will get over my back pains and hatred for the blue collar job and realize that life is such a complex thing...to the point where a mind like mine shall always pull some lever of inspiration from SOMEWHERE in this life.
But with that being said, I'm going to go fall asleep for a few hours before I head back in for 'nother round.
Le sigh.
Until next time (whenever that is),
Shlomodoyle
More and more lately, I feel extremely pulled back from existence itself and feel as though I am peering into life through a window on the outside. My eyes are becoming a camera lens for those on the other side to spectate, but my body is tossed, turned and broken by the machines of this world. I'm typing this right now with scratched and irritated hands, who are longing to hold an instrument again. As cliche as it may sound, I am just not cut out for anything but my music. Call me a bum, call me lazy, call me what you will; I know who I am and what I am best at.
I am a vessel thats floating out on a turbulent sea, and the only thing that keeps my paddles sputtering is passion. If I am not passionate about something, I'm very apathetic towards that particular task or object. The only thing that gets me through walking out each and every night is this fact:
THIS IS ONLY TEMPORARY.
My eyes are fixed on getting back on the streets and moving with the Spirit and singing songs, but in the mean time I am completely blown away by how humans work. The factory is clouded with crushed dreams floating aimlessly amongst the blood, sweat, and fears. Yes, fears. A fear of being presented as vulnerable to a rookie or another superior. A fear that this might be the rest of someones life. A fear that you just might not be strong enough to make it to the end of a shift.
There is so much false confidence in that place; it basks in a stew of machismo and terrible Taz tattoos. The old Ian would find this absolutely depressing and at parts, it admittedly is. But there is a new birth in my mind chambers, and that is to peer in more in depth into peoples lives. Not in some creepy BTK killer sort of way, but in a fashion of being fascinated by anyone struggling to keep afloat day by day. Our existence is just one ongoing web of networking. Each string of silk with its own story to tell and it is absolutely beautiful.
Perhaps one day I will get over my back pains and hatred for the blue collar job and realize that life is such a complex thing...to the point where a mind like mine shall always pull some lever of inspiration from SOMEWHERE in this life.
But with that being said, I'm going to go fall asleep for a few hours before I head back in for 'nother round.
Le sigh.
Until next time (whenever that is),
Shlomodoyle
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
What a world, what a world!
Welp, I've gone done it; I've sold my soul to the blue collared man for a factory job to "get by". When one sits back and imagines what the actual concept of "the American dream" is, what the reality has become is quite startling. We have become a society in which, if we were to choose one phrase to define us, it would be the words "I GUESS". I GUESS it's okay to put a halt to my ambitions for a barely steady paycheck. I GUESS it's okay to flush my beliefs down a drain of shame. I GUESS it's okay to settle for a lifestyle that I never fathomed in my youth.
We are truly intriguing creatures when it boils down to our nature. When we are children, our minds run our bodies off of our dreams. As we grow, our bodies begin to take the ropes of our dreams. Our flesh enraptures our spiritual minds and hearts, tangling it in vines of convention. What's good for right now? What is the best option RIGHT NOW? There is a generational fear of long term; uncertainty has become an albatross that will eventually break our bodies into the ground. Writhing in pain and attempting to scream with mouthfuls of dirt, we will settle. We will adapt. We will adapt to anguish if it means we can get by for the time being. In all honesty, this has completely numbed my mind from thinking about it so much today.
Faith in our Creator and hope for a better day seems like a long off dream that we only held in ignorance. This IS a reality, but has been sold out for another. We sold off our Jesus to be some cartoon character dancing in our minds when we let Him pop up now and again. Like some toy we can take out at our own discretion, but stow away in our attics to only talk about Him to our grandsons and daughters. Like some fairy tale without an agreed upon ending..this reality has become one thing: a joke.
On our tour of the factory place today, the people working there looked like they wanted to shove a shotgun in their mouths over what they are doing with their lives. Will there be change? Seldomly. We settle for a paycheck for one piece of percieved "reality". We've given up on hope! we've given.up.on.hope!
Most of my blogs that discuss a relationship with God end up usually being a very positive outlook towards the end. But in today's society, we have news channels that shoot tragedy into our eyeballs and gossip that tears our ears off of our very own heads. We thrive off of negativity to get by and it becomes known as "keeping it real".
Really? Keeping it real?
Yes, this world can be a terrible place. But why is it a terrible place?
Here's the catch: we made it that way. We made our own filth. We made our own hell.
For thousands of years with our separations, our "religions" and our wars waged amongst eachother. We've dug in a deep grave on this planet, but we have a Father reaching down to get us. But the worms and the dirt have become familiar faces, so we make it a homely comfort to stay.
This is our pain, and we have a way out. Will you open your spiritual mind? Or will you keep the door closed?
If my childhood self could see me now, he'd kick my shins with great swiftness due to me putting my dreams on hold so I can "keep it real" and "get by".
Deep down, I feel him tugging and punching; it's killing me.
We are truly intriguing creatures when it boils down to our nature. When we are children, our minds run our bodies off of our dreams. As we grow, our bodies begin to take the ropes of our dreams. Our flesh enraptures our spiritual minds and hearts, tangling it in vines of convention. What's good for right now? What is the best option RIGHT NOW? There is a generational fear of long term; uncertainty has become an albatross that will eventually break our bodies into the ground. Writhing in pain and attempting to scream with mouthfuls of dirt, we will settle. We will adapt. We will adapt to anguish if it means we can get by for the time being. In all honesty, this has completely numbed my mind from thinking about it so much today.
Faith in our Creator and hope for a better day seems like a long off dream that we only held in ignorance. This IS a reality, but has been sold out for another. We sold off our Jesus to be some cartoon character dancing in our minds when we let Him pop up now and again. Like some toy we can take out at our own discretion, but stow away in our attics to only talk about Him to our grandsons and daughters. Like some fairy tale without an agreed upon ending..this reality has become one thing: a joke.
On our tour of the factory place today, the people working there looked like they wanted to shove a shotgun in their mouths over what they are doing with their lives. Will there be change? Seldomly. We settle for a paycheck for one piece of percieved "reality". We've given up on hope! we've given.up.on.hope!
Most of my blogs that discuss a relationship with God end up usually being a very positive outlook towards the end. But in today's society, we have news channels that shoot tragedy into our eyeballs and gossip that tears our ears off of our very own heads. We thrive off of negativity to get by and it becomes known as "keeping it real".
Really? Keeping it real?
Yes, this world can be a terrible place. But why is it a terrible place?
Here's the catch: we made it that way. We made our own filth. We made our own hell.
For thousands of years with our separations, our "religions" and our wars waged amongst eachother. We've dug in a deep grave on this planet, but we have a Father reaching down to get us. But the worms and the dirt have become familiar faces, so we make it a homely comfort to stay.
This is our pain, and we have a way out. Will you open your spiritual mind? Or will you keep the door closed?
If my childhood self could see me now, he'd kick my shins with great swiftness due to me putting my dreams on hold so I can "keep it real" and "get by".
Deep down, I feel him tugging and punching; it's killing me.
Friday, August 13, 2010
It's that time again..
Years ago when I used to force myself to give post sacrifices to the blog gods, I would always become frustrated with how my writings would seemingly transform mid-type. I would have these huge elaborate paragraphs floating around in my mind with the intention of impressing my readers with how "intelligent" and "dignified" I sounded. What usually comes out, though, is a sporadic burst of cerebral vomit that pours out through my fingers and onto the internet. Point being: I have accepted the fact that I write like a high sugar induced child with a severe case of A.D.D. and I've stopped caring.
That being said, I have some thoughts I'd like to pour from my think pot to your curiosity bowls!
Spiritually speaking, for two years I've hit the ground running when it comes to my witnessing and ministering. Taking it to the streets, my education has come a good deal from my failures as a believer and from shutting my trap. As followers of Christ, a good deal of witnessing the gospel is first listening to what our fellow men and women are even saying. Religion, for the past God knows how long, has been more of a political science study rather than an actual faith structure. Holy wars, jihads, culture wars; you name it, we've done it all. Peer into the tear filled eyes of our Christ and you can tell we've been running this whole spirituality thing all wrong.
But what has honestly boggled both my mental and spiritual mind is that our faiths are becoming other things as well! Advertising campaigns to get you to come buy merchandise, for example:
"What's up guys? We're a Christian metalcore band! We aren't going to preach or anything, but we just wanted to let you know that we believe that Jesus is a cool guy and God does stuff. Cool. Now that's out of the way, we have shirts in the back and our bass player will have sex with you for taco bell and beer money. God bless!"
Obviously, that is a bit exaggerated..but not to the point where one would think.
Seriously..
PEOPLE ACTUALLY BUY INTO THIS!!
I'm sorry, but that was not the life of Jesus Christ. Never was, never will be. If you are going to proclaim the name "Christian"...live it; don't sell it for your fleshly desires. I'd also like to note that I'm not speaking on a soapbox in vain, I was a part of this machine for quite some time. I lived it, and it rips my heart out.
Now that I've offended a good deal of young "Christian" bands, let me take this to a completely other spectrum of faith: relationships. Very recently, I've begun to see a quite startling trend amongst young believers in this area. Belief in Christ is becoming a mating competition to latch you a significant other for what turns out to only be a brief amount of time. It is honestly getting to the point where the next favorite pick up lines will sound something like:
"Hey girl, guess how humble I am? I am sooooo humble! Jesus is my number one! God is so good! Here, let me give you a Kinko's copy of a list of all the awesome stuff I've done that half relates to Jesus. Did you know my dad's a pastor? I've read the Bible like 10 times! Aren't I just so humble and loving? So...can I have your number? No? Well..here's mine in case you change your mind :) :) :)"
(Let it be noted that I was cringing the entire time I wrote that. My pain is your pleasure, dearest reader)
If you sell the name of Christianity to either get someone to buy your cds, bumper stickers, and shirts or to attract a warm body to place next to your trembling one for about twenty minutes: you've lost sight of the real Jesus. You have lost sight of the real and living God.
What is faith without deeds? What is love and healing without the fruit to show it?
Bloggingly yours,
Shlomo
That being said, I have some thoughts I'd like to pour from my think pot to your curiosity bowls!
Spiritually speaking, for two years I've hit the ground running when it comes to my witnessing and ministering. Taking it to the streets, my education has come a good deal from my failures as a believer and from shutting my trap. As followers of Christ, a good deal of witnessing the gospel is first listening to what our fellow men and women are even saying. Religion, for the past God knows how long, has been more of a political science study rather than an actual faith structure. Holy wars, jihads, culture wars; you name it, we've done it all. Peer into the tear filled eyes of our Christ and you can tell we've been running this whole spirituality thing all wrong.
But what has honestly boggled both my mental and spiritual mind is that our faiths are becoming other things as well! Advertising campaigns to get you to come buy merchandise, for example:
"What's up guys? We're a Christian metalcore band! We aren't going to preach or anything, but we just wanted to let you know that we believe that Jesus is a cool guy and God does stuff. Cool. Now that's out of the way, we have shirts in the back and our bass player will have sex with you for taco bell and beer money. God bless!"
Obviously, that is a bit exaggerated..but not to the point where one would think.
Seriously..
PEOPLE ACTUALLY BUY INTO THIS!!
I'm sorry, but that was not the life of Jesus Christ. Never was, never will be. If you are going to proclaim the name "Christian"...live it; don't sell it for your fleshly desires. I'd also like to note that I'm not speaking on a soapbox in vain, I was a part of this machine for quite some time. I lived it, and it rips my heart out.
Now that I've offended a good deal of young "Christian" bands, let me take this to a completely other spectrum of faith: relationships. Very recently, I've begun to see a quite startling trend amongst young believers in this area. Belief in Christ is becoming a mating competition to latch you a significant other for what turns out to only be a brief amount of time. It is honestly getting to the point where the next favorite pick up lines will sound something like:
"Hey girl, guess how humble I am? I am sooooo humble! Jesus is my number one! God is so good! Here, let me give you a Kinko's copy of a list of all the awesome stuff I've done that half relates to Jesus. Did you know my dad's a pastor? I've read the Bible like 10 times! Aren't I just so humble and loving? So...can I have your number? No? Well..here's mine in case you change your mind :) :) :)"
(Let it be noted that I was cringing the entire time I wrote that. My pain is your pleasure, dearest reader)
If you sell the name of Christianity to either get someone to buy your cds, bumper stickers, and shirts or to attract a warm body to place next to your trembling one for about twenty minutes: you've lost sight of the real Jesus. You have lost sight of the real and living God.
What is faith without deeds? What is love and healing without the fruit to show it?
Bloggingly yours,
Shlomo
Monday, August 9, 2010
Happy?
There are days and long drawn out nightly tides where I just get pale on my insides from the sounds of the circus around me. Come one, come all! See our newest addition to this sadist pleasing menagerie! If this is what you call friends and if this is what you call family..then take my ticket; I'm cashing out and I hope you know where to stick it, because I can't be a part of an empty shelf life start to what we call "the American dream". Trains shooting off steam from hot bouncing coals; taking away lovers to places that even in your old age, you'll never know. That's just it! You'll never know! Where did they go, oh where did they go!? It just goes to show that what our youth had in store was nothing more than the precious whore we call wasted time. Oh, if only I had a dime for every second I've wasted on nights like this! And if I could grow trees from the veins in my wrists, I'd pray to God that my fruit litter would taste ever so bitter to your vivacious tongue.
But then again, there are moments where I wish to just find a place to rest. So despite the pulling in my chest, I give in to the original sin that is my human skin and crush any ambition left in my dying eye sockets.
Emptying out my pockets, I'll place on the table all I have that is stable to be just another machine in your ever so pristine depiction on what it is to be content.
I hope this makes you happy, because it's killing me.
But then again, there are moments where I wish to just find a place to rest. So despite the pulling in my chest, I give in to the original sin that is my human skin and crush any ambition left in my dying eye sockets.
Emptying out my pockets, I'll place on the table all I have that is stable to be just another machine in your ever so pristine depiction on what it is to be content.
I hope this makes you happy, because it's killing me.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Dreamer
Nostalgic smells and familiar romps
Childish laughter and puddle stomps
Jelly jar eyes and a sleepy sunset simper;
Rest your weary, weary freckled head.
Lightbulb chains and canaries calling
Celebration dances for rain that's falling
Wispy blue skies above a whisted whimper;
The best known words are those left unsaid.
An open door and flowing barren sheets
Kitchen drawers and honey suckled beets
My pulsating heart has gone to a listless limper;
Stumbling over to an empty bed.
Simply memories now, call me a dreamer
but in your glare; repulsed but remaining soothing
I swear to all that is holy, warm and moving;
I still see her.
Childish laughter and puddle stomps
Jelly jar eyes and a sleepy sunset simper;
Rest your weary, weary freckled head.
Lightbulb chains and canaries calling
Celebration dances for rain that's falling
Wispy blue skies above a whisted whimper;
The best known words are those left unsaid.
An open door and flowing barren sheets
Kitchen drawers and honey suckled beets
My pulsating heart has gone to a listless limper;
Stumbling over to an empty bed.
Simply memories now, call me a dreamer
but in your glare; repulsed but remaining soothing
I swear to all that is holy, warm and moving;
I still see her.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Spark, ignite, go.
Throughout my sleep last night into today, I kept awaking with the feeling of my spine being used as a twist tie to hold together a huge bag of slumber distraction. Many friends and family of mine will tell you that I constantly joke that I am twenty one years old going on eighty five for the mere fact that I feel my bones are very brittle. Ironically enough though (even in my HORRIFIC times of clumsiness), I have never once broken a bone. Anymore, I seldom get any illness that will debilitate me to the point of a simple good nights rest. I am a man of a rather fantastic bill of health for the time being, so my silly finger pointing at a malfunctioning bodily machine honestly becomes a moot point.
What causes my sleepless nights, nightmarish frights, body aches and frustrating midnight shakes? Depending on your belief system, it is very subjective. If you are a person of the scientific mind, you may place the culprit title on something like my diet or stress. If you are spiritual minded person, you may think it is a sign from the Heavenly Body that I need to pay attention to something urgent. For the past two years of my life I have encountered more Spiritual movements than my little train engine can handle sometimes. This world is like a giant beautiful representation of clockwork and finely, seemingly out of tune, machinery. Compare our planet to the Milky Way, it is a tiny marble in a dusty marble bag. Compare our galaxy to the entire universe and it honestly seems like a single skin pigment in an entire grown body. Now, compare this ever growing universe to the spark that CREATED all this. Now, subject yourself to placing our little bodies in spiritual connection with the Godly spark. It is unfathomable at times, but drives an ever ongoing curiosity in our society.
I am not writing this blog to put my Jesus Christ up for any debate, but I want to paint a picture on just how big this spiritual warfare is becoming. It is literally throwing my body into fits of urgency and aching to get something done while I still walk the tight rope of life with a decent amount of balance and a REMOTELY sound mind. Our perceptions of life here in America are so very different from other cultures for the main reason that we are a society that is easily distracted by the tinsel dangled at us. While we are too busy with our mocha lattes, meetings, cheeseburgers, and thousands of television channels, there is a Spirit moving amongst the dirt and through the mud caked hands of the third world countries. When you take ministry to the grimiest of streets, that's where you will find access to some of the heaviest Spiritual contact one may find in this life.
Last night in Sandusky, I witnessed a child dancing to music with a balloon in her hand and a couple not even twenty feet away with their hands in each others pants hooting the lyrics to "The Joker". I witnessed two women dressing to their tiniest skivvies in some attempt to aesthetically tickle male hormones, dancing feverishly to techno music. I felt sick to my stomach, ashamed of my wandering eyes and absolutely fascinated with how our culture breathes on a nightly basis. We are living in these times because we are living and ACCEPTING fallen culture.
My body, my heart and my mind are aching in frustration to place my sleepless feet on the streets of the lands of ancient dirts and sands. Until that day arises, though, one must begin in their backyard. Perhaps once I start walking, I will find rest.
I will not know until I actually start doing something.
Spark, ignite, go.
What causes my sleepless nights, nightmarish frights, body aches and frustrating midnight shakes? Depending on your belief system, it is very subjective. If you are a person of the scientific mind, you may place the culprit title on something like my diet or stress. If you are spiritual minded person, you may think it is a sign from the Heavenly Body that I need to pay attention to something urgent. For the past two years of my life I have encountered more Spiritual movements than my little train engine can handle sometimes. This world is like a giant beautiful representation of clockwork and finely, seemingly out of tune, machinery. Compare our planet to the Milky Way, it is a tiny marble in a dusty marble bag. Compare our galaxy to the entire universe and it honestly seems like a single skin pigment in an entire grown body. Now, compare this ever growing universe to the spark that CREATED all this. Now, subject yourself to placing our little bodies in spiritual connection with the Godly spark. It is unfathomable at times, but drives an ever ongoing curiosity in our society.
I am not writing this blog to put my Jesus Christ up for any debate, but I want to paint a picture on just how big this spiritual warfare is becoming. It is literally throwing my body into fits of urgency and aching to get something done while I still walk the tight rope of life with a decent amount of balance and a REMOTELY sound mind. Our perceptions of life here in America are so very different from other cultures for the main reason that we are a society that is easily distracted by the tinsel dangled at us. While we are too busy with our mocha lattes, meetings, cheeseburgers, and thousands of television channels, there is a Spirit moving amongst the dirt and through the mud caked hands of the third world countries. When you take ministry to the grimiest of streets, that's where you will find access to some of the heaviest Spiritual contact one may find in this life.
Last night in Sandusky, I witnessed a child dancing to music with a balloon in her hand and a couple not even twenty feet away with their hands in each others pants hooting the lyrics to "The Joker". I witnessed two women dressing to their tiniest skivvies in some attempt to aesthetically tickle male hormones, dancing feverishly to techno music. I felt sick to my stomach, ashamed of my wandering eyes and absolutely fascinated with how our culture breathes on a nightly basis. We are living in these times because we are living and ACCEPTING fallen culture.
My body, my heart and my mind are aching in frustration to place my sleepless feet on the streets of the lands of ancient dirts and sands. Until that day arises, though, one must begin in their backyard. Perhaps once I start walking, I will find rest.
I will not know until I actually start doing something.
Spark, ignite, go.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Blogging: a new philoso-folly
I've always had a love hate relationship with creating one of these floating babble vessels on the interwebs. On one hand, I enjoy pounding my gangly skeleton fingers against my laptop in a feeble attempt to convey what my brain people are always singing about. On the other, though, I become this hair pulling beast who constantly vomits revisions of the same picture. I would like to honestly believe that this is one of the few strong consistencies in my life.
The URL to this blogosphere is "Everying Is Locomotion" for a very simple reason. As thinkers, writers, lovers and humanoid creatures alike, we are constantly growing and changing. In the most genuine times of stillness, we are still moving. Our brains all pulsate with millions of little words and paintings, but only a small speck of the time do our tounges shake hands with our minds. It's a sad fact that I've come to realize, but I am now happy to say that I am quite content with it. This contentment comes from realizing that there is a beauty to be found in anything shaking and warm with life, and we must always seek such. Cut us all open, and we are essentially the same; pink, red, bleeding and screaming in agony because we just got ripped open and our guts are falling out.
That being said, my guts will be collected into the bowl of the eternal internet; to be stared at with confused looks and passed on. I hope you'll find something here eventually, but in the mean time..go outside or something.
Eternally starving and about to eat chicken and waffles,
Ian
The URL to this blogosphere is "Everying Is Locomotion" for a very simple reason. As thinkers, writers, lovers and humanoid creatures alike, we are constantly growing and changing. In the most genuine times of stillness, we are still moving. Our brains all pulsate with millions of little words and paintings, but only a small speck of the time do our tounges shake hands with our minds. It's a sad fact that I've come to realize, but I am now happy to say that I am quite content with it. This contentment comes from realizing that there is a beauty to be found in anything shaking and warm with life, and we must always seek such. Cut us all open, and we are essentially the same; pink, red, bleeding and screaming in agony because we just got ripped open and our guts are falling out.
That being said, my guts will be collected into the bowl of the eternal internet; to be stared at with confused looks and passed on. I hope you'll find something here eventually, but in the mean time..go outside or something.
Eternally starving and about to eat chicken and waffles,
Ian
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