That Lewis and his profundities...

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one... Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

C.S. Lewis

I sure hope God has a sense of humor. I mean, it's pretty obvious he has a sense of humor - Look at the platypus - clearly a hodgepodge. And the pig with its curly little tail ridiculously out of proportion to its body...and look at man. But if we are laughable it is more because of brains than our bodies.

We, the creation - creation not creator - always trying to haggle deals with God. Convincing ourselves God doesn't see all things and know all things. We are like the thief who is sure he'll get away with his stealing though for umpteen years -thieves are repeatedly caught - but unlike the thief there is no chance we will get off scot-free.

Why do we choose to pretend we can set the rules or that we are least equals with God? Creator - Creation, King - Servant, Master - Pupil...is it because we feel uncomfortable? We should feel a little unnerved! We ought to remember Nebuchadnezzar and his time spent in the fields. I think too often we want to make God our buddy-friend. God is not our buddy and we are not equal to him. This does not mean God is distant and angry, rather, if we maintain a biblical perspective then repeatedly we see God as a father: loving, protecting, guiding, and correcting his wayward children. Whatever example we look at in the bible whether it be Abraham, Moses, David, Paul or any of the disciples, they were who they were because they reverenced God, and because they humbled themselves before Him. And though in the New Testament Christ laid down new commandments never is this concept swayed.

On bended knee we bow before Christ the King, our Maker and Redeemer.

On bended knee we plead of him Mercy and Forgiveness.

That we may rise, Forgiven, Humbled, and Freed.

Passing Through.

Clouds are capable of giving one a pretty odd sensation. I am quite sure that the individual who decided Angels sat on them did not live near elevation, fog, and had never flown.

In addition, the person who came up with that notion was hopelessly off his rocker, for the idea is inanely absurd. Where on earth (literally) did the assumption that angels are silly, charming, and stupid come from anyway? I'm pretty sure I'd be terrified of an Angel making himself known to me.

Clouds. Utterly obscure, constantly changing - more than a woman, fickle though she be.

When above them: elation, peace, wonder. The sun burns brightly on the white sea as it fleets mindless yonder. In this world of in between, this land of space with the only visible things being sun and depth of cloud, I think of Ransom being carried to Venus in Perelandra. But I lack my coffin of transportation, my mission from Oyarsa, and Professor Weston to defeat. This abyss holds an odd sense of security.

Sinking through them, surrounded, wondering what is East and West, momentarily holding oxygen flow until the claustrophobic atmosphere evaporates and reveals the interesting palate of objects and colors. The magic whispers my name but it is only in teasing mockery for it is gone, gone, gone. It is ungraspable.

The biosphere comes into focus, blotches become roof tops, seas of fluctuating green - lusty trees, and those shiny moving specks merely modes of transportation.

I liked the passing silvery ocean.

I was drawn to the obscure in between -

But the current view, yes, is where I belong, for the time being.

Musing.

Johann Bach once said something like, "music is simply hitting the right note at the right time." This is basic and true - but the act isn't or we would all be musicians. Life is like music. It can be beautiful, intricate, peaceful, resonate and bounding. It requires hitting the right note at the right time. Music demands patience of her pupils. It is arduous and difficult and she always wants your very best. So God demands our best. It is not simple, but as we look at the composers and martyrs from ages past we desire it and know it is worth it.

Practice makes perfect. In frustration we may bang the keys and their unwillingness to cope with taut fingers and strained mind. We must learn to not strive for perfection but excellence. Carry on through clashing chords and screeching strings and listen for the beat and rhythm of life.

Even great composers did not always find composing simple...the masses of notes spread hither and thither look like childish ugly ink patterns…until they are arranged by their creator. We all blunder in life but we must not let these imperfections stop us from being the scattered notes composing the harmony and melody of Christ’s kingdom

Truth is Simple. In an exquisite fashion.

"Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired." -Mother Theresa

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art...It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival." -Jack Lewis

"It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness." -Leo Tolstoy

"A great point is gained when we have learned not to struggle against the circumstances God has appointed for us." -H.L. Sidney Lear

On Culture:

"Also contributing mightily to the growing acceptance of Euthanasia is a form of pervasive cultural decay that I call ' "terminal nonjudgmentalism" ' (TNJ). Our society has become so steeped in relativism, so unable to distinguish right from wrong, that is increasingly fails to react to or criticize truly reprehensible concepts or conduct. When destructive ideas and practices are not condemned, it is effectively a form of praise. That which is not seen as wrong must be right. As the winds of the death culture blow with increasing velocity, the vitality of the equality-of-life ethic withers."

Wesley J Smith, Forced Exit.

Sight. Hearing. Touch. Smell. Taste.

I believe that covers the traditional five senses.

I was thinking today just how incredible each one is. How often I forget the wonder of even one. And how happy and grateful I am that Chance and the phenomenal Big Bang worked together to collaborate them. >>>>>>>Okay. That sounds absolutely ridiculous. God is an amazing creator.

In particular, I am so thankful for the sense of Smell. I think my nose is becoming more refined in it's ability to smell. I use it so much more of late! I have fallen into a dreadful habit of grudging the fact that I can't eat so many things. Actually that's not even it. Even stuff I can eat that shouldn't technically bother me, does.

I decided I'm going to revel more in the beauty of smell. Because really, although when we eat we use the sense of Touch (texture) and also Taste and Sight, these become almost nothing if there is no Smell. I suppose this is why I don't mind at all cooking things I can't eat. Smell spikes the imagination to grand heights ingraining itself in the memory. Which is why some people associate certain smells with poignant memories and places.

Begin Breathing in the world around you.

Life would be so bland without smell. Not only would the pleasure of eating be diminished but literally everything else with it. When I think smell, I think: Walks, Spring, Fall, Haying, Tae Kwon Do, Plants, Rivers, Books, Gardens, Grandma's house, Clothes, Paper, Ironing, Old Buildings, Food...it goes on and on.

Breathe yes, but inhale the savory, the twitchy, and the pungent with it.

Wallow in this beauty of Life.