Theophany Journal

Theo is NOT here But He is Elsewhere

2010-06-10T18:48:00.003-04:00

Looking for Theo? Well, he has moved on from this place and this name and has found a new, revealingly honest expression of his blogself over at http://blog.kimewilliams.com.

Feel free to visit and read some recent poetry, stories, and antics.

This blog has moved

2010-03-20T21:47:00.001-04:00

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2008-07-21T21:08:00.001-04:00

String Quartet

It is a mess at first
The bow strikes and glides across a single string and back again
The note wobbles for a moment
Then settles to a steady call

Joined then by the rocking and striated rhythms
Of another set of strings
And another
Then another

The tatters of sound assemble
Like clouds and squalls
Of a sea storm
Then silence before the storm

Slowly comes the rain
The thunder
The wind
Singing softly its message

We are awash in a sea
Of harmonies and melodies
Here it is useless to navigate
This storm will take us where it wills

Surrender is always
The best option
When accosted
By beauty

-Theo

NOTE: The local Eastern Music Festival brought four young people to play before a group I attended last week. I was inspired to write this piece after their tuning and playing.

2008-07-17T20:32:00.001-04:00

Blue Hole-Walk and Talk

Your now seldom trodden paths fall under new feet, withstanding each impact of soul and sole, bearing up upon unyielding and ancient rock the weight of another exploration, an adventuring spirit, another of the millions of creatures that you have felt wander across your very spine, and with thoughtless query your impatient question of 800,000 years rises again...

Will this be the one? Will this be only another impertinent and transient creature that errantly uses the earthy mystery of this space for gathering dirt and stone, or ripping foliage aside for consumption, or splattering in fury, another's blood upon you hoping you will shroud its evil form detection? Or will this one impede the conquest and domination long enough to pause momentarily, stand still enough - long enough to allow your archaic message to creep from the core of this vain of our origination and stir as deeply within them as it resides within you, the tendril of impervious and undaunted myth that is your message?

NOTE: Written after walking the Blue Hole path in Bermuda.

2008-07-16T20:34:00.002-04:00

Awarded - Arte Y Pico Award

John has been bestowing stuff again. Among the stuff he has been bestowing about the place is the Arte Y Pico Award… which he has apparently bestowed upon me:

As with all such bestow-able items, it comes with its own list of rules:
1) Pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.
2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
4) Award-winner has to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award: Arte y Pico.

So here are my selections.

- AP (Alcoholic Poet) - Here you will find RAW passion and an amazing torrent of poets images and angst. I always leave moved and often wrenched.

- Michele - The most amazing community has evolved from her games, welcome and simple hospitality. There is laughter and blogging whimsy here. Her design is simple and crisp.

- Unguarded Utterance - S. L. Corsua writes the some of my favorite poetry on the web. I am humbled by her knowledge, technique and creative power.

-intothequiet - Another Poet and prose writer worth your time. Her community of visitors is packed with talent as well. The design here appeals to be, as well and this blog is easy to navigate.

-Dena Harris - And to prove I love to laugh, I finish with Dena's blog. Dena (she is more than a "cat" writer-really) writes regular and often humorous posts about her life. Her stuff is real if a bit twisted through her creative/retentive/over structured existence.

So now. Get your mouse clicking and visit these fine cyber spaces. Be sure and tell them that they have been award this high and holy honor!

Go. What are you still here for?

2008-06-30T21:01:00.001-04:00

Writing Work

A friend of mine has recently helped me get motivated to begin a writing routine. I have a story (maybe a book?) that I started several years ago. I have set a time to write for 30 minutes each day.

It is strange to me how difficult it is to do the work of writing. I love creating the story and the task of putting it to words isn’t that difficult, but something stands in the way of spontaneously writing.

When I first began this work, it was self compelling. I had to make myself stop and do something else. Somewhere along the way, the internal motivation waned and I found myself choosing to do other things.

I believe I am about a good tale and it smacks of a specific genre’ and has a bit of originality. It is worth telling. It is a tale that is alive within me.

So, tell me dear reader, why is it such work to write? What is your take on the passion of creativity turning to the labor of necessity?

Test

2008-06-17T10:01:00.001-04:00

Quotable

A happy childhood has spoiled many a promising life. - Robertson Davies

2008-06-11T21:47:00.003-04:00

Dolphin Musing

Using a writers prompt, I penned these words. May they bring you some of the peace that they brought me this day.

"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."

It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.

That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.

The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far. They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There where three of them, two adults and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.

I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed hold of the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn’t enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water, was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifting a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.

The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.

Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was at once lost in bliss and fully present with myself.

Later, they bid me farewell and I felt a bit of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.

2008-05-17T16:01:00.001-04:00

Summation

I'm holding the dog so it can sleep. What more to life is there?

2008-05-07T20:48:00.002-04:00

Amusing Myself

You are dancing again.

Yes.

Have you missed it?

The dancing?

Yes.

Yes, but I have missed other things more.

Really? What?

I have missed the attentive look on your face as you treasure me.

Treasure you? That is a bit assumptive of you.

Perhaps, but I see it tonight in your eyes.

You annoy me sometimes with you self assurance.

I'm not so assured, so confident about most things. But, I know you.

Indeed you do.

Dance with me.

I already am.

Do you love me?

Always.

I'm glad.

So am I, eventhough it keeps me forever troubled.

Troubled?

Perhaps unsettled would be a better word.

If you were not unsettled by me, you would be worthless, you know.

Yes, and sometimes I get tired of the desire, the longing, the …

Amusement?

You make me smile.

I make you laugh.

And dance.

I dance for you.

Thank you.

You make me laugh.

I know. I know. Dance.

2008-04-30T20:58:00.003-04:00

A 50 Year Hike

For the next four days I will be retreating to the mountains of North Carolina. I plan to do some hiking with my wife and enjoy the higher perspective that the mountains afford me. There is something wonderfully expansive and encouraging about a little time in the mountains.

We will hike one of my all time favorite trails in the Great Smokey Mountains, The Alum Cave trial. The 10 mile round-trip hike has a total elevation change of about 3600 feet and is a demanding day hike.

I'll turn 50 while on that hike. Seems appropriate.

2008-04-21T21:28:00.002-04:00

Never Quit

If you spent the last few years of your life trying to achieve a success, and you had fail not once or twice, but 49 times, would you keep trying?

I'm glad she didn't. Congrats!

2008-04-14T13:31:00.001-04:00

In From the Sea

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear
The crackle of palm fronds breaking free from the heat
The hiss of sea oats defiantly bowing inland
The whisper of sand celebrating its lofty release from gravity
The sputter of foam cascading skyward cut from wave caps
The chimes of delicate shells dancing across dunes
When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear
The prayers of ancient mariners reaching home

-Theo

The above poem is dedicated in loving memory of my grandfather who was, among many things, a sailor.

2008-04-07T20:25:00.001-04:00

Departing

My grandfather is dying. He has lived 94 long and powerful years. There is no grief over the span or quality of his life. His family has grown, along with him, to replace any misgivings and injury of history with a real and current admiration and warmth. His is a life worth celebrating and he is a person worth having known.

I have spent three days visiting with family as they have gathered to share in his ending. I have spent two nights alone with him, but for the beeping of monitors and the peripheral movement of nurses and technicians. He is not cognitively alert, although I suspect he is more aware than he can demonstrate.

The most amazing and challenging aspect of it all is the interpersonal dynamic of my family. In such time of pain and stress I find myself moving in and out of a family functioning largely on self. Everyone is about their own stories, feelings, needs and ideas. There is little room for silence, prayer and just being. They seem to be living in their worries and words with a constant agitation.

I chose and cherish the over-night duty I did with my grandfather in his ICU room. There, among the sanctuary of our time I was able to simply be with him and myself. We really have no unfinished business. I am at peace with his dying. He is suffering some, but this too is part of the final journey for him. I love him and have let him go.

I have traveled back to my home now. My life is here; my wife, children and vocation. I won't be going back until time for the funeral. The other members of my family continue their vigilance and he his. This is as it is and I believe the Divine is working some more things out during this remaining time.

I don't really have a story to tell here. I just wanted to put some of this into words, for now.

2008-04-03T13:11:00.002-04:00

Life Complaint #497

Leaving the gym this morning, I saw a 30 something woman park a large SUV in the front line handicapped space. She flipped a handicapped sign onto her mirror and literally jogged into the gym. Does this bother anyone other than me?

Your thoughts?

2008-03-23T20:22:00.003-04:00

Burnished Life

We all have them - scars, wounds. Just moving through life assures us of damage.

The pain of an abusive childhood, the confusions of divorce, solitude through the loss of a job, physical injury, and the growing limitations of getting older all can keep us from the elusive joy of success.

Something tells us that we are supposed to be happy, healthy, and whole. We strive for it, pursue it and then there are the times when we seem completely separated from this deserved joy. Life's pleasure eludes us and we become too familiar with suffering.

I have often and long thought of this question - Why is joy often painfully elusive. I do not have an answer. I do have some experience and an observation.

It might help you to know of some of the scars, wounds and blows upon my life. My father died at age 36 (I was 6) of a massive heart attack leaving a gapping hole in my family and leaving me with a life-time of an absent father. I have walked through a critical and dangerous illness with my first child. I am divorced and remarried. I have watch four children grow in our blended (meaning there were two broken families) family. I fell into drug addiction, lost my career, professional credentials and bearings. I have physical conditions that bring me pain everyday. I have lost jobs, destroyed relationships, abused others and violated most of the values I believe to be important. My step-sister was raped and murdered when I was 15. My sister and brother are addicts in addiction or recovery depending on when you read this. And yet, my life today is good and I am happy more days than I am not.

It is my experience that in the face of my life's difficulties and among my own ill placed choices I have always known that a larger and benevolent presence was at work in life. My journey has certainly taken me toward and away from the Divine, but I have never doubted the Divine's existence. In my darkest moments I guess I knew that I could choose to not be a part of this larger benevolence, but my choice did not mean it wasn’t there nonetheless.

My observation is that my life has endured even the worst I have experienced. In fact, I can affirm that I have more than endured, but am thriving. Why? I'm not sure I can tell you why. I can tell you this - the scars and wounds that remain are the remnants of life's polishing of me. Perhaps polishing is too bright of a term. I have been burnished by life. In much the same way a welder may burnish metal to strengthen a contact, or a sculptor might burnish a piece of bronze to refract light in a particular way, life has rubbed and burnished me. The result is a being that cannot be mistaken for anything more than a man, a human being, like others, who has found some admiration of his scars and the peculiar sheen they reflect.

I feel triumphant because of my burnished life. Careful here or you will misunderstand me. It isn't because of what I have done to arrive at this moment. It is true enough that I am proud of the choices that have allowed me to live, but if I had been so wonderful I would have made much better choices that could have brought me to this point more directly - or could they? I feel triumphant because there is a peculiar, divine alchemy that has found in my choices and life's circumstances a limited and brazenly beautiful person.

It is also my belief and hope at this moment that anyone can find such beauty and solid joy in their burnished life.

2008-03-20T20:35:00.004-04:00

Regret

yesterday's deeds descend on raptor's wings
talons flair and slice into my mind
tearing through the carefully constructed facade of hope
i bleed, into tomorrow

ancestral wounds reopen with vengeance
deforming logic and maiming reason
proclaiming the torment of self loathing valid
i bleed, fill with sorrow

-Theo

2008-03-18T21:55:00.001-04:00

Red House Talking

heat scared twisted tin
metal remains of the shelter of generations
once marking the boundary between security and sky
seasons' harsh torments of ice and wind
once shielding mother and child and keeping
home hearths warmth within

sentinel timbers stand charred
remnants of hard taught lessons
essential knowings of word and truth
those shadows of learning that stand undaunting
proclaiming our way through life's course
holding us to right of way

paneless windows black and lost
tell of now absent eyes peering outward
watching for familiar faces and tracing memories
in winter vapor smudged glass and then speak
of curtains drawn tightly muffling the magic
giggles of life long love and randy youth.

now the boundaries of roof and wall
yield openly, freeing lives long bound here
prolific gaps grasp not even nature's breeze
but, to have it dance delight
fully resting
on my mind, heart and dream
then wafting on, free.

NOTE: I wrote this after visiting Levering Orchard in 2005.

2008-03-14T20:06:00.003-04:00

In Absence

It is possible to forget, to lose one's investment in being connected and engaging. It is probable that lack of familiar liaisons will diminish the rush of passion, the surge coursing through sinew and spirit delivering vitality. We can forget even that which is primary to personal essence.

The unused muscle withers. Creative ideas become faded memories and memories are soon enough forgotten, evaporated wisps dissipating across expanding horizons.

Yet, there is in all of such profound leaving and loss something that endures and that piece, no matter how small, abides eternally engrained within. Leaving, being separated from those things and people that affect us so throughly isn't really possible, not really. We are made of the remnants that remain, woven, remembered into a quiet brilliance.

2008-02-07T16:15:00.000-05:00

Quoting

Late to bed and late to wake will keep you long on money and short on mistakes. - Aaron McGruder

Note: Mr. McGruder was surely speaking pre-QVC!

2008-01-31T19:45:00.000-05:00

Upon Seeing "August Rush."

When the creative passion manifests itself within a human child in so great a magnitude that the child is compelled to create, and when that compulsion is made known through the power of creative genius, we call it beautiful, touching, profound.

I am pained, in agony. For what is crueler than to encase that immense passion within the flesh and psyche of a man and provide him with no prodigy-like form through which to have expression?

I am an artist without a canvas, a singer with no voice and a master with no craft. I meander about the art of creating and dabble in the alchemy of beauty, yet my very soul aches still with a song to be sung that cannot find a note of harmony in this un-tuned voice.

In anger and tears I cry, "There is something that big in me and I have no craft to get it out!" How cruel.

2008-01-24T15:01:00.000-05:00

Quoting

Write a wise saying and your name will live forever. - Anonymous

2008-01-09T20:38:00.000-05:00

Fresh from Reality

I just found this via a contact at work. Strengthsfinder.com is a test that rates your natural tendencies from a list of 34 talents/skill sets. You can purchase the book and it includes an online code to access the test and get your results. The concept is based on the belief that we will reach success by knowing and capitalizing on our strengths rather than trying to become good at something at which we are innately inept.

The test gives you a list of your top five strengths and a report detailing the strength and offering suggested actions to move into that strength.

My top five are:

Empathy - People who are especially talented in the Empathy theme can sense the feelings of other people by imagining themselves in others' lives or others' situations.

Competition - People who are especially talented in the Competition theme measure their progress against the performance of others. They strive to win first place and revel in contests.

Futuristic - People who are especially talented in the Futuristic theme are inspired by the future and what could be. They inspire others with their visions of the future.

Communication - People who are especially talented in the Communication theme generally find it easy to put their thoughts into words. They are good conversationalists and presenters.

Ideation - People who are especially talented in the Ideation theme are fascinated by ideas. They are able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena.

The report includes several pages of definitions and action suggestions. I’m off to discover more about me… It is all about me, after all.

2008-01-05T15:15:00.000-05:00

Half Way

And now I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way insane
And half way away from you.

The thought of moving own
Chills my spirit, aches my bones
I how can I live without you
How can we live as one?

Still here I am
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.

There's a half moon in the sky
Half light to drive me
Half dark to hide me
Too bright to find shelter, too dark to see my way.

I'm stopped here
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.

Half full or half empty
The thought does not matter
For I'm too thirsty for half of anything
Too parched for half measures.

Along this road
I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way away from you.

I have less than half of this life to go
A half life gone that seems too long
Half life left seems too much
So, I go

The half way back to you
Turning round to you
Half way back is better
Than all the way home.
Half way to you
Half way alone
Half way, moving all the way
Away to you.

-Theo

2007-12-21T10:06:00.000-05:00

From My Window to Your Home

Merry Christmas and Peace to All

2007-12-13T20:58:00.000-05:00

Better

There is no secret formula, but the remedy is still too illusive.

Thanks to words of kindness from and time with friends, I feel more comfortable. The process was gradual, and still I can mark the moment my mood finally adjusted completely.

I volunteered recently to spend an hour ringing the Salvation Army bell. A service group I am a member of has the responsibility and I signed up. Something about standing there, ringing that little bell and forcing myself to say "Merry Christmas" to passers-by removed the last of the veil of dankness from my life.

Now, on to the holidays. Come Spirit of joy and life!

2007-12-04T11:24:00.000-05:00

Advent

Be it internal chaos or external over stimulus or something altogether different, I find no real joy in this impending holiday season.

I am happy enough. I am satisfied enough. I am painfully aware of how many things are not and are never going to be what I desire. My acceptance is low. My serenity, tentative. I am approaching apathy on many fronts.

I want to eat cake and drink whole milk. I want to spend money and own new things. I want to feel different and that for me is always a dangerous thing.

I have lived with this awareness awhile. I am tired of it. I am tired of struggling with me and knowing that neither the struggle or my failure will successfully save me from me.

These are dark personal days in need of light.

2007-11-07T08:19:00.000-05:00

Quoting

Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane. - Philip K. Dick

2007-10-30T14:32:00.000-04:00

Minerva's Memories

in these pretty things
these broken fragments
of our dreams, hopes, courage
the light does sparkle
a bit

in these pretty things
these shattered shards
of our faith, ideas, will
the shimmers do run
on us

in these pretty things
these scattered particles
of you, me, us
the flickers of memories
are born

-Theo

2007-10-28T20:30:00.000-04:00

Migraine Lesson

Tonight, I have a growing headache. I’m drinking tea, sitting in the quiet and hoping the caffeine will ease this thumping before it becomes a sickening pounding of nausea and crippling sensitivity.

It has been months since I have had a migraine. At least I don’t fear them anymore.

Sometimes, for me at least, I am best served to embrace the pains of life on life's terms and curl quietly into the darkness of slumber. There, coiled among downed blankets, gray shadows and intimates smells, I can stay the course until relief eases its way into my mind, my being, my soul.

This is true for migraines and for the pains of living in a malformed world with less than the purest of intent.

Good Night.

2007-10-18T21:13:00.000-04:00

Haunting Heritage

Below is a direct quote of a letter sent from my mother to my daughter who is studing abroad this semester. The content of the letter is exactly as she wrote it. The names have not been change. There are none innocent to protect.

"A few lines to let you know we are thinking of you and loving you.
Your Dad spent the weekend with us when you were in Paris. and I just had a great time.
We are still doing the same things. Granddaddy and Nana loves your emails. I print them out and give them to them. They are happy you are seeing the world and think you are the greatest.
Joe Gordon and his family brought the house next door so we are having lots of activity. They first cut the pine trees down, are removing the fireplace ( bricks sound loud hitting a metal dumpster) and they are fixing things inside. Guess they will move in when finished. Seem like a nice young couple.
We built a ramp for Granddaddy Benton and we are in progress of getting an electric wheelchair. He is weaker and needs this.
Bobby and Granddaddy Cox are fishing in the river and hunting.
Granddaddy has already kill 5 deer. He is going today to give some of his sisters deer as they love the meat and t hey don't have anyone to hunt for them.
Talked to Nichole a few days ago and she seemed happy. She has moved into a trailer on the land where she was borned.
Pam is better all bones are healing, but no job yet.
Bobby and his family are doing great. and said tell you hello. Bobby read the email about Paris and loved it. (you might think of being a
writer)
Lisa and her family are well. Branton has really grown and smiles all the time he is really cute I'll attach a picture.
I am well and still on the black and red quilt. I might still be on it next year.
The weather here is still like summer in the 80's and 90's.
Got to go, keep in touch and have fun. love you Grandmother and Granddaddy"

Heritage is a scary thing.

2007-10-17T22:14:00.000-04:00

A Love Remembered

You would, no doubt remember me for we did share some significant moments of our lives together. We dated. We kissed and even passionately touched. We never made love. We never had sex. You always kept me at some distance and I always wanted you, desired you, and needed you.

I remember most the way you held my hand. It was sensual, intense the way you would stroke your fingers along mine, caressing my skin. I remember how you laughed and smiled. I remember watching you play your sport, animal-like, sweating with each sprint and swing. I remember how you were never able to tame your hair.

You would remember some things about me, I am sure, but I am also sure that the piece of my heart that you own is held by you without knowledge or even agreement. I still smile inside when I think of you. Thank you, Erin, for delighting me eternally.

2007-10-09T20:26:00.000-04:00

Pinked

This is one of the most poignant videos that I have seen in a while.

2007-09-26T16:01:00.000-04:00

Quoting

"A poet more than thirty years old is simply an overgrown child." - HL Mencken

2007-09-24T20:12:00.000-04:00

New Record

The amazing art of SPAM has hit a new level. I recieved 1,600+ spam emails today to one of my old email addresses. I guess it is time to shut that one down.

On the brighter side. I have discovered Skype and have been talking to my daughter in Spain via this wonderful FREE service.

2007-09-20T16:40:00.000-04:00

Amazed

What could possibly possess an 18yr old male to make $45.00 worth of directory assistance calls on his cell phone?

Parenting NOTE: There is always another way for your teens to spend money.

2007-09-14T09:31:00.000-04:00

Memorial

Often shouted words loose meaning
Repetition, redundancy, familiarity
Turn does the phrase
Into sentiment void of power.

What shall we call these things
Courage, commitment, dedication, belief
Pallor the soul
To sigh and ache?

Can we speak of heroes anymore?

-Theo

2007-09-04T19:32:00.000-04:00

Talons, Fist and Teeth

I close my eyes. The breath gently flitters in and then out. I am there.

My meadow beneath me, again, welcomes me home. I raise my fist to the sky and he comes. I need not even look upward for I feel the familiar tearing of my flesh as he settles, talons grasping into my fist. The pain screams within and I welcome the greeting of my ancient friend. The blood streams briefly and stops as talon and flesh merge. I heal.

She strolls to my side, her weight leaning against my thigh. I lower my free hand and find her fur, thick and hot upon her neck. Kneeling, I wrap my arm around her and lower my face into hers, breathing deep upon her myriad of smells: scents of death, decay and fresh blood. I so love her essential primitiveness.

Now we are one, us three. I miss them when I cannot imagine.

2007-08-30T16:45:00.000-04:00

Parenting

son, while it may be true that we come to realize that we have failed to embrace the opportunities set so lovingly before us, we must acknowledge that we have been beset and seized by our own bindings. such shackles and mire may have, to this point, held us fast to our own mediocrity. this truth directs us to love our failure and forgive ourselves. we travel from such limitations through the pain and angst of struggling free and into our personal liberty.

today, you have become more aware of such limitations and thus of the fresh and vital opportunity that awaits you. Carpe diem is often misquoted as "seize the day." a better rendering of it is to "gather the day." gathering the day is both a reference to making order of the day(to gather it together) and harvesting the day. the implication is that all that we need is robustly present and waiting. it is therefore our destiny, our very calling to claim each day unto us. such effort is most often the assembly of simple, singular, seemingly routine tasks. such effort does, eventually, result in the very real manifestation of our dreams.

just for today, my son, may you renew yourself and simply do the next right thing. Carpe diem!

i love you, son.

2007-08-26T02:30:00.000-04:00

Traveling In Style

I've been here all week for a business/pleasure trip. There is nothing like a first class resort to truly make a few days paradise. I love being treated like a KING!

I'm headed back home in the morning and Mrs. Theo assures me that things WILL be different. heh.

2007-08-20T13:21:00.000-04:00

Michele

A dispenser of joy
Full
Dancing fervent spins
Inviting
Lives lined with smiles

A creator of playgrounds
Uncluttered
Swirling merry-go-rounds
Unfurling
Laughter, laughing out loud

A hostess of light
Brilliant
Casting crisp shadows
Defining
Undefiled contrast, beauty

-Theo

Happy Birthday!! (Yesterday) Thank you for all you do here, Michele

2007-08-17T19:08:00.000-04:00

Muse Use

Did Jung refer to you
Anima
Flit and a wisp through
My lungs
Stealing my breath

Are not you the artist's
Muse
Singing and dancing by
My passions
Making off with my propriety

Thank you

-Theo

2007-08-11T17:52:00.000-04:00

Old Sheets and Old Dreams

In my bed
time
remembering

the lines, creases, cravings
gone
the stains, pools, smells
faded
the longings, needs, desires
remain

i wish i could forget

-Theo

Obviously, I've been over at Alcoholic Poet's, again.

2007-08-10T22:04:00.000-04:00

New Blog

I found a new read over at "Famous Ankles." Go give him a visit and let him know Theo sent you.

2007-08-10T16:29:00.000-04:00

Mundane

My day tomorrow will consist of mowing the lawn and getting a hair cut. After these tasks, I will be tired and no doubt spend the rest of the day watching some TV and/or apathetically clicking my way through blogs.

I cannot express how desperate I am for some passionate encounter to bring some wonderfully distracting zip to my existence. Is this what life has come to?

Mundane Me

There is a dampness
A cold, mildewed deposit
Resting on me
Testing me

It clings and twists
Entwining, cellular piercings
Into my self
Loathing me

I want to be free of
this...me

-Theo

2007-08-06T19:44:00.001-04:00

For You

There are those that we know
Seldom doubting
Always seeking
Fatigued much in such
Matters of faith and being
Yet
Those are the ones
Souls of our understanding
Often touching us
While discovering their
Own truth
So
We continue believing within
Often doubting
Never looking
Energized much in such
Details of living and hope
Together

-Theo

2007-08-02T08:58:00.000-04:00

Quoting

I know the answer! The answer lies within the heart of all mankind! The answer is twelve? I think I'm in the wrong building. - Charles M. Schulz

2007-07-31T19:57:00.000-04:00

Sultry Poetry

With a seldom used word
Curving like the lure
Of a woman's hip
From thigh to clit
Poetry comes.

-Theo

2007-07-27T21:12:00.000-04:00

Questionable Conviction

The pounding of shallow theology imposes unbearable constraints
Christian rocker
Leaves hanging, strung out
Entwined by discordant beliefs and strangling doctrine
Sweet screamer

Hung here

Ravens of sorrow tear
Impending wounds bleed
Inevitable

Complexity troubles certainty
Endlessly taunting while seconds tick
A-Cross tender, gaping places and broken faiths
Nailed eternally

To

Timbers and sinew of
Discontent

-Theo

2007-07-23T20:57:00.000-04:00

Fanciful Disaster

There was a moment of inspiration just now.

Something flickered across my mind, an awareness of dissatisfaction with life - my life. I remember standing on the railing a top the tallest building, exhausted from the battle to get there. I could see my feet, bare, spatulated as they clung to the railing at the edge of it all. I felt the familiar ache of my joints as they urgently worked to stretch for balance, extending to lengths and measures long forgotten with the passing of years. I knew -what was it? - I knew that this life was void of any real and enduring victory. I remember the clear and final choice to fall, to plummet eternally downward and land in mediocrity.

Strange. Why did I feel that I had ascended to anything but?

2007-07-17T20:07:00.000-04:00

Unrefined Contact

Recumbent desires and cumbersome guilt affords us little in the way of meaning. You shouldn't look at me that way, if you don't want my delicate demands. I can't say what ferment swells and requisitions our future from clasped hands. Nor do I dare impart a wish to want more than fanciful moments, minuscule ticks off our kindness. Your seemly essence troubles us.

Is that enough?

Hello?

Why won't you listen to us anymore?

2007-07-16T09:47:00.000-04:00

Rubber

such terrestrial protection
affords us small and withered
members
lost and incased
lonely and more
despairing

-Theo
Inspired by Alcoholic Poet

2007-07-10T19:45:00.000-04:00

Vigilant

The insane rhythm of self destruction is easy
Natural
Instinctual swirls in the sand
Traced by the hand of an ancient
Child

The vigilant discord of self care is demanding
Foreign
Learned rubbing on the tombstones
Scrapped by the gnarled fingers of youthful
Maturity

We keep what we have only with vigilance

-Theo

Today is the eight year anniversary of my recovery from drug addiction.

2007-07-05T20:08:00.000-04:00

Viscous

Viscosity is one of those wonderful words that sounds and speaks much like it means to me. It doesn't flip off the tongue. It requires more effort, more intent to pronounce viscosity.

Depression always makes me think of trying to move through life dressed in a wet, wool blanket. Every effort is increased and life has an unrelenting cool dampness about it. You can't just try harder and get through. It accompanies you when you move and when you give up.

Those times when life is tuned less intensely, but still something resists you are well described as moments of high viscosity. Some relationships are viscous.

Our Viscosity

Viscous interactions
Entwined emotions
Caught

I would want to leave
I would desire relief
Released

Such effort defines
Our togetherness
Lost

-Theo

2007-07-04T20:55:00.000-04:00

Happy July 4th

2007-07-02T16:17:00.000-04:00

Quoting

No one means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous. - Henry Adams

2007-06-24T19:51:00.000-04:00

Hiking in Alien Terrain

Today, hiking the Grindstone Trail at Pilot Mountain State Park, I came upon a fallen pine tree. It lay across the trail and where the bark had been scraped off by hikers crawling over it's now lifeless, dry trunk, there were intricate patterns, delicate carvings - swirls and curls - along the wood. These remnants of insects' travels beneath the bark looked for all the world like hieroglyphs carved, perhaps by the tiny hands of some alien creature in an effort to communicate an immortal and holy truth. I decided then and there, that this theory was indeed true. I stood in a sanctuary upon holy ground.

It is wonderful how the magic of imagination can bring real spirit to my days.

2007-06-20T09:01:00.000-04:00

Words

machination: a crafty scheme intended to accomplish some usually evil end.

2007-06-05T21:50:00.000-04:00

Skinned

The layers peel
With a severe ease
Under lament resides
Desire

Peeling

Revealing drafts of promises
Too familiar, too simple
Below memory unveiled
Need

Peeling

Like dead skin from a sunburned thigh.

-Theo

2007-05-29T21:04:00.000-04:00

Go Away

If you have the least desire to read words of desire and poetic enchantment, then by all means, visit Souless today.

2007-05-23T22:03:00.000-04:00

As Sent to Me

Every year, English teachers from across the USA can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year's winners.
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at
4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
20. The plan was simple , like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

2007-05-20T13:13:00.001-04:00

Quoting

What the world needs is more geniuses with humility, there are so few of us left. - Oscar Levant

2007-05-17T21:41:00.000-04:00

Self Care and Self Sacrifice?

interestingly enough, i was kind to myself today. simply, today was better.

i found that my interactions with others were less about my need for approval and more about helping others. today i felt useful, attentive, and available to others. strange that this all became possible with my focus on being kind to me.

there was a time in my life when i equated self care with selfishness. i acted on the belief that to give others what they wanted and to act as others desired was to be caring and spiritual. i mistakenly took my need for approval seeking behavior as some sort of spiritual principal, some kind of higher action of selflessness.

i can, and do sometimes lapse into this way of being. i have also discovered that, just for me, self care is a much purer mode of selflessness. as strange as it sounds, i now know that it is only from the place of self care and balance that i can choose to give that up for the good of another. we can only give away what ewe have.

another wandering through my mind done.

2007-05-14T21:25:00.000-04:00

Sigh of Defeat

I am way tired of life today. Simple. Truth.

I will finish this day and be productive. I will sleep tonight. Sleep. That will be the beginning of the new day as this one will be punctuated with a "i don't give a crap" sigh of defeat.

Tomorrow I will start over. I will set a few goals, modest ones. I will be productive.

Most of all, I will be kind to myself tomorrow.

Fuck. I am discouraged today.

2007-04-30T20:28:00.000-04:00

Is Theo A Redneck?

I am pretty sure I qualify for one of Jeff Foxworthy's "You might be a redneck if...."

Hang on, here goes.

My mother was married at 16 and had her first child, a daughter at 17.
Her daughter, my sister, had her first child, a daughter, at 16.
Her daughter, my niece, had her first child, a daughter, at 17.
Her daughter, my grand-niece, had her first child, a daughter, at 16.
Her daughter, my great-grand niece ?, had her first child, a daughter today, at 19.

Frankly, we are a bit relieved. We were beginning to think she would never have children (tongue inserted firmly in cheek).

So, you vote. Does this make me a candidate for redneckness?

2007-04-30T09:20:00.001-04:00

Quotable

In the beginning there was nothing. God said, 'Let there be light!' And there was light. There was still nothing, but you could see it a whole lot better. - Ellen DeGeneres

On Hiking The Grand Canyon

2007-04-16T19:12:00.000-04:00

On Hiking The Grand Canyon

These Walls

These walls, these cascading rocks of harden earth, earthen toned history revealing centuries of the never ending dance between water and stone, hold me in awe. Is not this chasm grand in span and even grander yet in spirit, for it calls not only for all that the body can give it while every muscle screams for relief and each sinew claims finality. This brilliant abyss wants for the release of more, the conquest of ones very being, the devouring of all spirit. Give to it this, this measure of your existence, all body and spirit and therein, perhaps therein, weary traveler of this land, you might just discover more of who you are, or more complete still, you and I may just become more, more complete, more wonder-full. These walls can caress the very earthen vessel of humanity and breathe again into us, a vital wisp of that delicate mixture of earth and water and their waltz through eternity.

2007-04-11T21:11:00.000-04:00

Quoting

The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason. - John Cage

2007-04-10T21:27:00.000-04:00

On Orb Gazing

Gaze within
Inward tilted specter's
Eyes
Seek me within me

Within me
My dwelling hides
Self
Seeking measures living

Living my past
Yesterday's captured fears
Me
Inside this sphere

-Theo

2007-04-08T13:03:00.000-04:00

Easter Uninspired

Amid the marshmallow bunnies, jelly-bellies, and pastel painted eggs, I do not find Easter this year. The marks of a commercial and festive celebration that have become more about family, spring and (as often holidays are) fanciful hopes of imagined completeness, are mostly absent from my Easter this year. In fact, Easter has come upon me much like the annoying reality of muscle spasms that mark a hike too long and too demanding for current conditioning. An uncomfortable surprise.

I will still walk through the day of church going, family dinner and a birthday party with some manner of appropriate participation. What is this pallor of tone that has settled with me? I inventory my living, my daily actions, and find nothing actually wrong. There are the 'normal' stresses of watching my children make their mistakes and experience their consequences. I have my share of demands at work and much of my energy is spent there, upon the anvil of my vocation. Why this discord within? Why do I find myself looking for distractions? Why do I long for something pleasant, passionate?

I know the drill. Time for a meeting. Call my sponsor. Take real care of me. Today, I tire of this vigilant life. Is there no end to the my need for watchfulness of self. I live with the reality that I am my own worst enemy. I am more likely to bring pain to my own life than anyone or anything else.

"Joy and sorrow flow mingled down."

Enough. I have Easter to celebrate...At least to fain celebration.

2007-03-30T20:29:00.000-04:00

Recovery

It is so strange to look
One day
And find broken and rusted
Upon the floor
The shackles that once bound
Me
And I wonder
How long I have been holding
Myself prisoner
And I wonder
How long it has been since
I danced

-Theo

2007-01-17T21:43:00.000-05:00

Theophany Paused

I'm going through a great deal of Life-On-Life's-Terms events. I don't really need to process them here, and I am not experiencing any inspirational prompts from my day-to-day living that might compell me to post.

I think of and visit the blog world often, yet, I have little to contribute here. For now, consider this a pause of Theophany.

I expect to be back.

Namaste'

2007-01-09T20:35:00.000-05:00

Left to Live

It is possible to grieve the loss before the loss actually occurs. I know this because I grieve.

A man whom I love dearly is dieing. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer two weeks ago. He is dieing. I am a person of strong faith and although I do not doubt the possibility of healing for him, I do notice that the Divine is one that seems to operate within tendencies. Stone tends to be hard. Trees tend to bend with the breeze. Rain tends to fall. People with stage four pancreatic cancers tend to die.

There is life, even in this. This man is 40 years old, happily married and the father of two boys under 12 years old. As tragic as this is, it is a gift (I believe) to know the approximate time of one's death. There are things that can be planned. Last times to be had and enjoyed, and there can be words spoken that heal and provide enduring hope. Dieing can be life giving. I have seen it happen.

Once, what seems like a life-time ago now, I watched as a disease sickened infant, living only 8 months, served to lead an entire congregation of people to the precipice of life. Those who chose to were able to stand and gaze into the shadows of the abyss as she moved beyond our reach and there, there in that mist of nothing, we found many of the questions that make life worth living. It is the questions, you know, that make value of our days and weave meaning into our years. The questions are important. Answers yield only finality, conclusions. Questions, those are the things of tomorrow. Questions take us to new places, new hopes.

For now, I don't find any new questions arising. No hope, just pain and numbness. Just pain - the pain that is just? I move through each day and do the thing in front of me. I feel only the ache of impending loss and the anger of denial. I have cried. I will cry more, but not now.

Feelings are. They are neither good nor bad, but some merely comfortable or uncomfortable. For me, there is some familiarity in loss and emotional pain. I will not live here long for I know that there is more, the next phase of being.

Yet, today I rest with Depression and Helplessness as my companions.

Divine One
Caress me with your will
Brush your way against me
That I may know

Then under gird me
With your strength
Bind me together
For your work.

2007-01-02T14:18:00.000-05:00

Quoting

"When a person can no longer laugh at himself, it is time for others to laugh at him." - Thomas Szasz

Today, My best hope is that your laughter about me might amuse me. Life can be so annoying at times.

2006-12-20T10:29:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas

Once, long ago, heaven reached down and touched earth and hope was born anew.

May you have a wonder filled holiday!

2006-12-13T18:17:00.000-05:00

Christmas Wanderings, Re-post

the words are more familiar than obsessive thoughts as they bounce endlessly between ear and heart. they bring a now aged prophecy via the well worn path from daily fears and dutiful tasks to the mystic horizon of hope.

the horizon: the juncture of observed beauty and the failing of perception. the 'out there' place of tomorrows wanderings and future dreams.

here i hear them. simple words: behold. love. salvation. love. gift. within them resounding whispers remind me of that which must be known. the eternal truth that within Life, indeed, my life there is One who loves and who possesses the wonderful power to transform this malformed, mistake ridden existence into a journey of great worth, a journey as pure as the trek of a mother's hand as it gently caresses her child's face. today's words, wrought in ritual and sanctuary remembered in my soul such....Love.

(posted previously in December 2004)

2006-12-11T09:20:00.000-05:00

Quoting

Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything. - Kurt Vonnegut

2006-12-06T10:52:00.000-05:00

Attacked

Humming tunes
Amid
Casual wanderings
Bouncing in rhythm
Freedom holds laughter
Levity in motion

Descending shadows
Falling
Guilt dampened shroud
Shame and worry bring
Anxiety's encasement

Disoriented movement an awkward
Stumbling
Bludgeoning blows of self doubt
Confusion, chaos' melody

Sings

-Theo

2006-11-29T18:06:00.000-05:00

Are We Artists All?

It does not matter how often we fail, how far we fall in to despair, un-want, loss. It is of no affect the shattering of our carefully formed facade, our peripheral shell, for no matter how severe the destruction, the decimation of character and condition, as long as we try once more, one more effort of creation and if in that once more, we are able to fashion even the most minute fiber of beauty, then we are victorious still. We do not exist to conquer or reign. Ours is not a destiny built on the defeat of others, nor the triumph of superiority, but rather, are we not built for one true purpose? Is not this soul and yours designed to be and bring into being beauty? Are we not called, in the final word of it all, to be co-creators and sustainers of that which can but be called art? If we are then successful in this task, we can never fail.

2006-11-20T21:33:00.000-05:00

Inside To Out

There is a poem, a verse inside of me
Yet, I am too tired
To be still
Enough
To let it out

So, it bangs around, and around
Between thoughts and tasks
Of this day
Until
I shall dream, again.

-Theo

2006-11-14T21:01:00.000-05:00

Marriage Dreams

in my thoughts today
i long to
watch you arch your back
beautifully.

-Theo

2006-11-10T09:59:00.000-05:00

Half

And now I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way insane
And half way, away from you.

The thought of moving own
Chills my spirit, aches my bones
How can I live without you
How can we live as one?

Still here I am
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.

There's a half moon in the sky
Half light to drive me
Half dark to hide me
Too bright to find shelter, too dark to see my way.

I'm stopped here
Half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.

Half full or half empty
The thought does not matter
For I'm too thirsty for half of anything
Too parched for half measures.

Along this road
I'm half way home
Half way to being alone
Half way, away from you.

I have less than half of this life to go
A half life gone that seems too long
Half life left seems too much
So, I go

The half way back to you
Turning round to you
Half way back is better
Than all the way home.

Half way to you
Half way alone
Half way, moving all the way
Away, to you.

-Theo

2006-11-06T09:18:00.000-05:00

Quoting

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." - Tom Stoppard

2006-10-24T20:09:00.000-04:00

Mission Invitation

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is as follows:

1. Say hello here.
2. Visit Dena Harris over at her blog.
3. Leave her a comment there.
4. Have a nice day.

Note: My apologies to Michele for stealing her site of the day and meet and greet concept. Well, not really, but it is where I got the idea.

2006-10-17T20:23:00.000-04:00

The Earth Moved

Once early this morning and twice more since then, we have had micro earthquakes here in NC. The 'boom and rattle' was large enough to wake me. Earthquakes in North Carolina? What is next? Dogs and cats sleeping with each other?

The end is near.

2006-10-10T21:03:00.000-04:00

Theo Eye

If a picture is worth a thousand words, what few words do you have for this partial picture?

2006-10-06T15:11:00.000-04:00

Refracted

When mired in angst and loneliness
Leaden are the limbs
That would reach out
Groping for release

Then hollow are laughter and smiles
Lifted on the swirling breeze
Becoming mocking tributes
Deepening the bog

Talk of beauty when standing among decay is painful.

-Theo

2006-10-05T08:34:00.000-04:00

Quoting

"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives." - William Dement

2006-10-03T06:31:00.000-04:00

Dreams

The memory of you, a wisp of desire known through twilight's veil, holds me gently as the morning comes. Thank you for crossing over to my world, my daylight of despair. I will cling to the faint melodies of you, my muse, and know a small measure of hope.

Today.

2006-10-02T20:54:00.000-04:00

Some Days

Some days I question the worth of it... it being my living, my daily effort to be and become. What does it add up to? I once thought there was great value in my life, a mission, a great purpose for my actions. When I was a minister I could always retreat to the fact that I was a part of a calling, set a part for a purpose, something of value. What remains of that endeavor is little more than the scarred memories of failure.

Today, those scars seem to cover the recollection of my life's endeavors.

The frightening thing, the fear that grips me tonight is that I wonder if I have it in me to redeem this solitary life, practically speaking, of course. And please, don't bother me with the theological considerations of grace and love. I am not troubled over the state of my eternal rest, but rather over the need to leave something behind, something of worth.

My mortality seems very real. My legacy empty.

2006-09-25T09:19:00.000-04:00

THE FILLING

ever left, turn right
through light's mangled night
straight ahead, back again
my pain filled longing

within my soul's maze
i wander endlessly dazed
lost and alone
helpless to atone

when will you free me
when can i be
rested and peaceful
freed from disease

when will my eyes dry
finish their crying
when will this longing
cease wanting for dieing

time swirls in a chaos
demanding my loss
tearing the shear fabric
so wonderfully tragic

i grasp with each breath
i scream as a wraith
arms taunt in despair
"please, freedom draw near."

broken, empty i fall
with one last gasp i call
"take me. you've won
no more i'm undone...undone.'

a mere shell i remain
empty of all, even pain
broken shards of the potter's
failed craft, shattered shards

then the filling begins
a dance from within
swirling dervish rising
bright eyes radiant shining

clarity comes waltzing
beauty's voice again singing
hope settles within me
like a gift i stand free

what powerful happenings
that waits for my falling
to kindly bequeath life
again

-theo

2006-09-18T17:51:00.000-04:00

Inspired

While reading today over at Unguarded Utterance, I was reminded of...

Those thoughts, those ideas that I regularly had while in an altered state, the thoughts that mixed such wisdom and needs to produce profundity, and yet in the light of the next morn seemed trite and empty.

Such is the way of malformed ideas when put to the test of reason and beauty, in whose mix of detail and chaos is something worth consuming, with a twist of lemon!

Cheers!

2006-09-17T09:21:00.000-04:00

a dream

soft clouds of unknowing
drifting awareness of twilight
moments of passion
pain
finds us and leads me home
again

-Theo

2006-09-14T20:48:00.000-04:00

Life and Depth

Sometimes I just don't get it. Why does the intersecton of my feelings and the reality of my life leave me feeling so damn incomplete, today?

Time for some spiritual work.

2006-09-10T20:32:00.000-04:00

Remembering

I'm posting here a poem I wrote 9-12-2001. May the love that life intends prevail for ALL people...

Eagles Weep

Eagles weep the dust of fury
Glory hangs in a breeze filled sky
Trumpets howl forth silence
Sightless eyes gaze on dust and bone

Paradox rains upon sweltering souls
Discordant melodies find no harmonic tone
Dreams of romantic horror in daylight come
Sleeping giants slumber on

Restrained talons long to tear
Flesh and bone.
Retribution wails
Bridled shouts from viper lips
Broken tongues speechless, still

This chaos, grief born questions
Here lies the doubt, fear, taking root
Anger and pain beget rage
Tearing the shroud, death.

Then, blasting through heart's cage
Cries, screams and eternal rage
Why! Demands our soul
Why?
Defiant voices entreat

Into this realm of despair
Touching sinew of exposed care
Lifting corpse-like remains
Our Hope stands, lifted hands

In a speechless voice the whisper comes
Gentle words rock our perilous stance
Words carefully spoken, deeply heard
Faith, Hope, Love the specter calls

Glorious birds might find their songs
Heavy banners be lifted by the gentlest of breeze
The clarion call of brass resound, proclaim
Life has come and will remain

September 12, 2001
-Theo

2006-09-07T19:18:00.000-04:00

What Does This Mean To You?

Sometimes the light shines so brilliantly that it hurts, but oh the pleasure of it!!

NOTE: I came upon this thought inside my head recently in the most random of moments. I pondered what it might mean, and now I ask you, "What do the words above mean to you?"

2006-09-04T15:27:00.000-04:00

Wonderful Day

Today I slept late, have the house to myself, have spent three hours writing on my novel, and am now eating left-over spaghetti. Later, I'll take a bike ride and meet my wife for dinner then join a gathering to watch FSU play Miami.

These are the days for which I work.

2006-08-31T09:07:00.000-04:00

Quotable

My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind. - Albert Einstein

2006-08-28T18:19:00.000-04:00

Self Exploration

The way is familiar enough, out the door of a momentary failure - a simple mistake, or the gaping hole created by willful wrong - and I'm on the path. I meander along backward, passing any number of re-membered piles of oozing lessons of my own darkness and creation. I can stop anywhere here, be it to ache as I cozy up to yesterday's wrong turn, or further down, perhaps I can settle into a reunion with my more youthful meanderings through dishonesty and self abuse. Not today. I have another destination.

Beyond the frequently known, seething moments of discord and despair that so willingly surge forward with any brief taste of guilt, shame and remorse, I trudge on. I am off today beyond these proverbial creatures of my past. I march to the very precipice of my being, and look out into the abyss of the unknown. There lies my way. There on a pencil thin ledge winding down into the obscurity of, of, of what I do not know...

I descend. If you are of courageous heart and tolerant spirit, wait. I may return.

NOTES: This week of travel and Conference, have exposed me to some timely truths that require my consideration. In my adulthood, there seem to remain some remnants of severe immaturity (I am not speaking of child-like playfulness, for I hope never to lose that, but childishness) that must be addressed. The words above strike out from the emotions and fears I feel as I begin the journey to address those tenacious remnants.

2006-08-21T06:31:00.000-04:00

Traveling

I'm off this week to Arizona for a pleasure/business trip. You can get a piece of my upcoming week via this link.

Enjoy.