15 April 2014

Somebody...

Somebody condemned a man today
Some say He did nothing wrong
I heard He just wanted to lead the children
Back home to where they belong…

Somebody placed a crown on His head
Made of pain and of thorns
Somebody whipped Him, beat Him, and bruised Him
Leaving Him tattered and torn…

Somebody brought out an old rugged cross
And gave Him to march up the hill
Somebody stoned Him, somebody cursed Him
Somebody cried out to kill…

Somebody threw Him up on the cross
Somebody said, "King of Jews – Hail!"
Somebody laughed, somebody wept
Guards summoned hammer and nails…

Somebody held Him tight to the wood
Somebody pounded spikes three
One for each hand, one through both feet
Hammered through skin into tree…

Somebody killed this innocent man
Somebody put Him to death
Somebody watched and did nothing to help
As slowly He took His last breath…

Somebody looked up in grief and in shame
There at the foot of that tree
Somebody killed this innocent man
God have mercy, it was me.


22 May 2013

Of Missing Persons...

I miss some of my friends today. Quite terribly. My life has seen many changes over the course of the last few years, about which I hope to elaborate on in a future entry or series of entries. One of the many things that I am still learning is that friendship - at least of the depth that I'm after - truly takes time and work and a mutual give-and-take of sorts. One-sided friendships aren't really friendships, quite honestly... and this has been a hard lesson to learn. Make no mistake, though... investing your heart into others is a wonderful, noble, even honourable thing! - as I see it. But this alone does not a friendship make. Friendship by its very nature needs reciprocation to survive. Not necessarily in equal measure, to be sure - especially at certain times and during certain seasons, but reciprocation just the same. When one is pushed away repeatedly or simply ignored for long enough, the message indeed becomes quite clear. With that taken to heart, I have had to learn to step back - or step away entirely... to let go... to cherish the time(s) we had as we walked the path together... and to move onward. They seem friends no longer, and yet my care for these I still name as such remains. I miss them. I love them. I pray for them. Perhaps our paths will cross again some day and we will walk together as once before. One can hope...

Namárië,
Lamar

29 August 2012

On the Subject of Human Frailty...

Fractions and fragments...
Of people are we...
Tears fill our eyes...
Broken hearts on our sleeves...
Thread-bare souls...
Inside these frames...
Searching for... something,
Outside of these games...
Seeking our ways,
Dreaming our dreams...
But nothing is ever...
Just quite as it seems...
Yet, wish upon wish...
We hold out our hope...
Ask strength for the moment...
The strength just to cope...
And still we're so fragile...
So broken with ease...
Reaching out through the pain...
For a hand, if you please...
Or perhaps to feel wanted,
To feel loved, not alone...
To finally know someone,
Not a place, as our home...
To finally be welcomed...
To just simply... be...
Who it is that we are...
Our unequivocal "me"...
But ere that day dawns...
We'll continue to die...
Ever saying we live,
Knowing we live but a lie...
And so we'll continue...
Through our days just the same...
These thorns ever-present...
And so always in... pain.

Namárië,
Lamar

31 May 2012

Desperately Seeking...

Days come and go and most find me deep in thought, true. Most often, my mind is all abuzz with thoughts bent in so very many different directions. Wishing for, I don't know, something... anything. Life puzzles me. And all the more so, lately. Had quite a brilliantly awesome conversation with a friend here at work this morning... and am glad of it. Perhaps I've been a little too quiet most recently. It helped to just get some of what's on my chest off, yes... but that introspection? Now redoubled. And so, though my mood has been somewhat lifted since this past weekend, I find myself slipping back into melancholy again. Second-guessing things, I guess... as usual. It's just... well... I'm still so desperately seeking my way... a way. I pray that it make sense. I need it to. Struggling ahead, all the while trying to lead by example, one gets weary. And too oft it still seems that though both my words and deeds are indeed noticed, they continue to go... unheeded. There are so many things in my life that I want to change, need to change, but... I... I just don't know how. Trying to take the necessary steps seems next to nearly impossible. And getting those I love most to follow with me just looks more and more... improbable. To passionately care so much about everything? Even those things which others don't think matter much at all? Honestly? It hurts. Still, everything matters... everything. "Be the change you want to see in others?" Does that work? I mean, truthfully? I wonder. Yet, I continue to continue. But I feel so lonely. And I'm finding more and more that Life is its deepest at its most bittersweet. Indeed...

Namárië,
Lamar

19 March 2012

Alone...

I wonder. Does anyone else really and truly experience the same type of loneliness? When surrounded by family and friends... loved ones, to be sure... why is it that I ofttimes feel so very, very alone? A deep-seated, abiding, and desperate loneliness. Perhaps it is that I don't quite feel at home within my own skin.  I'd wager that I never really have. Perhaps, like certain folk suggest, it's just that I think too much. Always asking questions of my questions. Searching for answers, for... meaning. In everything. Maybe all the years of abject rejection cloud my mind. Maybe all those hurtful things - blatantly deliberate or merely inferred - dig their claws deeper into every passing thought. Like anyone else, I'd just like to be heard, acknowledged... understood. But even when the dearest of friends say that they do, indeed, understand... I'm still left feeling so cold and very alone. I say that my soul hurts. It does. But when I try to explain, mostly I just end up feeling all the more marginalised. Small. Forgotten. And, ultimately... foolish. Peace and joy seem far removed and fleeting in these times. And so another Sunrise dawns and I find myself mostly teary-eyed at its promise. Should such bitter loneliness like this linger so? I truly wonder. I can say that it seems to fuel my melancholy... causing me to withdraw at times. At others, it boils over into heartbreaking dirges which no one will ever hear. Or occasionally finding its way into poetry and prose so powerfully poignant that I have no choice but to put it down onto paper... or type it out here in the virtual world's representation of such. But it never fully goes away. Temporary cessation, maybe... but it always comes back around. And sometimes... with a vengeance. Still, I battle on... winning the small skirmish on occasion. But the War? It is far from over... and I am but a weary soldier, trying to find his way. Help and Godspeed, I pray...


Namárië,
Lamar

01 March 2012

Through A Glass, Darkly...

And so I pour my broken heart out to the floor,
again from off my sleeve...


Yet still I hope and pray for just a little more to pour...
a little more to bleed...


Then I bow my head and say a prayer
asking some guidance for the deal...


Peering up into the starlight ever wishing
dreams could be made... real.


Lost in my own thoughts again,
I feel so cold and so very alone...


Fly me far away from here and to a place
where I am truly... home.


But if I simply said I had the answers...
well, now... that would be a lie...


Hauntingly on 'the outside',
with tear-drops in my eyes... think I'll cry...


Looking through this window on my life...


Namárië,
Lamar

17 November 2011

Ode to Autumn...

I hear it on the wind. A whisper? A name?
Growing closer all the same...

It sends a chill. A memory?
A longing in the heart of me?

For the past? The future? Perhaps the now?
A momentary, solemn vow...

One lone step ere certain decay...
Strangely beautiful falling away...

All the while dying whilst living still...
Certainly, quite the bitter pill...

Yet here we find such meaning and worth...
Fierce and fragile, sprinkled with mirth...

Lo! how bittersweet this sorrow...
For all our days and for tomorrow...

Granting perspective to understand...
O! the fleeting nature of Man...

All at once, here and gone...
And never as certain as the Dawn...

But ever in a state...
Of Autumn.

Namárië,
Lamar

01 July 2011

Evaporated...

Here I make Confession, such as it is... if any would listen. It is said that Confession is good for the soul. And indeed, I sincerely hope that it is. I find myself filled with a frailty that I cannot rightly explain, broken-spirited, so very tired of the Battle, weak and weary... depressed beyond consolation.

For what it's worth, I don't understand exactly why I feel the way I do. Chalk it up to Life in general, I guess. Dark night of the soul, dour-minded... call it what you will, but I feel that if I don't get some of this off of my chest in some form or another I'll most likely implode...

I sit here and I wonder. I wonder about so very much. My mom once told me that I was "too good-hearted and much too naive". Maybe she's right. And I can't begin to tell you how many folk have said that I was "overly-sensitive". I guess maybe they're all onto something that I've tried my damnedest to deny. I've tried to let things go, honestly... but it still hurts. Everything hurts. And I just feel so all alone. And tired. And smitten to feel this life so deeply...

Sometimes I just want to run away. But to where? Where could I possibly go that the demons wouldn't follow right along behind? O Infernal Shadows and Shades. I'd just carry them with me like all the words and the pains and the scars. Those still piercing arrows ablaze... ever burning heart, soul, and will.

But who will listen? More pointedly, who really and truly cares? Nothing that I say or do matters all that much regardless. And all it ever appears to lead to is more and more ill... ever-deepening wounds. When I do speak about such things, this bitter poison only seems to spread. And as I would not wish this Darkness visit upon another... and most certainly not because of me... my lot seems to be to soldier onwards alone, keeping so many things to myself. But living so... one-sidedly takes its toll, I promise. Why does it always have to be like this? But then again... what does it really matter anyway?

How should one keep on going when Life just... hurts so much. Honestly, there are days when I'd really just rather not be here. And lately those days seem to keep stretching out before me endlessly. Heartsick and abandoned, I just don't feel like trying all that much anymore...

More so than I could tell, the following song sums up fairly well almost exactly how I feel. Though, I only wish that I could carry on "indifferent to the loss"... for some reason, I just can't do that.

So I confess to taking everything to heart, to hurting, to being confused, to feeling misunderstood by those closest to me, to feeling alone and forgotten, to being empty, to being needy, to being too good-hearted, much too naive, and overly-sensitive...

And for so very much more that I haven't the heart to speak of...

Forgive me, I pray...



Namárië,
Lamar

20 June 2011

This Restless Heart...

Restlessness. In some form or fashion, a keen restlessness always comes back to me. Certainly books and movies and even video-games play some role in all of this. And I am not so strong as to keep it all at bay overlong. So it haunts me relentlessly. I guess it always will...

This past weekend, I was confronted with it yet again...

Somberly wistful, I yearn for something that I've never known... and yet something that seems to call to me, indeed has ever called to me, from far across the Sea. How can one feel so strongly the need to return to a place which one has never been? But I feel it... and deeply so.

Ireland.

Seems that everything this past weekend conspired to open me up to a simple truth that I can no longer ignore. My heart belongs... elsewhere.

Truthfully, after delving into something decided Irish... this always seems to happen. My wife, Jessica, rightly surmises that these leanings always lead me towards an increasing melancholy. She pointedly told me after a certain movie that we watched that, "Home is where the heart is." And shes' right, you know... of that I have no doubt. But my response to her was quite telling... as I hadn't even realised that I'd said the words until they were said. "I know," I said... "so why does mine feel that it belongs over there?"

I have no answers. I only know that I long to be there. And I feel it in my bones, my... blood. Will I ever feel so... wayward? Until I finally touch that blessèd soil... I believe so, yes.

I most definitely hear the call, but don't rightly know how to answer...

Please don't think that I wish my heart to be apart from my family. This is not the case, I promise. Heart for and with my family is something decidedly different altogether. And those that know me know how ardent is my heart toward them. I hope... indeed, I pray... that they understand and bear with me. To those other of you who read these words and who will... please pray for me.

Namárië,
Lamar

27 May 2011

Through this veil...

Wells of sadness reside within this fragile heart of mine... deep-seated and long-standing, indeed. My life is utterly coloured by this... unfathomable sadness. Melancholy is the fabric of my soul, gives deeper meaning to the world around, clears my vision with tears, strengthens my resolve. But ever seeing the world through this lens, this veil, does something to a man. Not that I would change anything, mind you. Feeling this life so deeply seems to be my path... and one that I have learnt to embrace over the years. And so, quietly determined, I soldier onwards... purposefully deliberate in word and deed. How else is one to live?

‎In his essay 'On Fairy-Stories', J.R.R. Tolkien writes:

"The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beast and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords."

For myself, I would choose to see our existence in this manner over any other. Indeed, something deep within me says that this is the only way that I can truly see aright the world in which we live and breathe and die. Not as fantasy but as undeniable... truth.

And so I continue to long after those things which are real and mourn the fact that so very much unreal fills this realm. Yet something in me continues to hope, to wish, to dream...

How I wish that you could understand...



Namárië,
Lamar

23 May 2011

Starlit...

It only takes the smallest amount of Light, you know... to give guidance in the Dark. Out where I live, away from most of the harsh, artificial, city-light, you can see the darkened Field of Night pin-pricked with innumerable points of Illumination. There are times that the sight of this gives me pause and I am genuinely awe-struck anew with the Beauty of the Night... and of the Starlight it brings along. There is deep Magic and inexplicable Mystery to the Stars that I cannot rightly ignore. And while I dearly love the Dawn and the coming of the Sun each morn, the Night brings something else, something... more pensive, I'd say. Will Man ever pine after the Stars of Heaven? The Light amongst the Darkness? I wonder...

Namárië,
Lamar

22 April 2011

In Darkness Eclipsed...

"And the barb of those words pierced him deeply... perhaps too deeply. And so his Heart sank within him. His Spirit thus wounded, diminished and withered... and his Soul fell under Shadow of utter disconsolation. Hurt beyond expression, he only became all the more quiet... and sank deeper into himself. Acquiescent to this lot, he now felt the acute sting of loneliness and despair more than ever. Henceforth, he wondered if he should dare even try..." 


Namárië,
Lamar

13 April 2011

Princess Jaina the Radiant...


And so the Princess walked and talked along the way with her Father, ever curiously asking questions... and yet speaking of the Realm as if an Ancient. The Father smiled deeply and counted himself profoundly... blessed.

My youngest daughter is quite exceptionally beautiful, actually. And not just outwardly so, mind you... but inwardly as well. Typical of all my children, perhaps she is spoiled... I won't deny that. But each of them have a Fire that resides just behind their eyes, a knowing of sorts, that is rather hard to ignore or dismiss. And Jaina is no exception. Spending time alone with her, for me, is a treat and a joy...

This past weekend the two of us spent a lot of time outdoors. Usually, time spent with Jaina outside entails pushing her in the 'Rope Swing' down at her Grandparents'. The 'Rope Swing', which has borne all of my children for quite a count of years, hangs from a branch some thirty feet skyward and is typically the attraction amongst both adults and children alike. It is rather fun, to be quite honest. At any rate, much swinging ensued to Jaina's squeals of, "Push me higher, Da! Higher!". Truthfully, I could do this for hours and hours... I never tire of it. Just seeing the look on her little face, the twinkle in her eyes, hearing her laughter... these are reward enough for me.

Whenever Jaina tired of swinging, we would seek out and pick what she calls Wish Flowers... which us grown-ups commonly call Dandelion. I much preferred her name for them and so left their 'real name' out of our conversations. To her they are simply Wish Flowers and full of potent Magic. Who am I to argue? Now I will think of them as nothing else. And so our search led us down the long, unpaved driveway behind our houses. Needless to say, many were the Wish Flowers picked along the way... each and every time stopping to silently wish before sending them off into the wind. O, the wishes that were made! By the both of us! I just had to smile...

At least once upon every journey that we undertake together, cloud-shapes are named... this Day was no different. Elephants and dragons and mountains, ships and sunflowers and bouncy-balls... always something new, something... unique. Feeling the warmth of Sun-rays, the brush of the breeze, watching the clouds, smelling the fragrancy of Spring... we got lost inside the moment. Truthfully, I could stay there - within those times - endlessly... as the Day grows long but never old. And I would never, ever, wish it away...

Questions abounded, also. "Where do rocks come from? What is sand made of? Where does sand come from? Who makes clouds? Who made the Stars? The Trees? Why do the birds sing? What are they saying when they sing?" I will relish them always...

It was on our walk, later in the afternoon, that Jaina first spotted the Moon high-up overhead. An aha! moment this always is for her, like she's caught something that I didn't notice. She loves pointing the Moon out during the Daylight hours. I told her that soon enough, it would indeed be there gleaming in the Nighttime sky. She seemed to like that idea very much. Later on, she got her wish in actually seeing it shining brightly there amongst the field of Stars as we headed homeward. She pointed it out again, whimsically. Again, I smiled...

 I truly believe that Jaina thinks herself a Princess. How I endeavour to always treat her as such! For you see, the secret is... she really is a Princess to me. In my heart and eyes she will ever be! 


I oft wonder why anyone would trade these for work, or money, or... whatever. There is nothing in the known or unknown Universes that I would trade for my Daughter or her time. Nothing. And I pray that she always see me as noble protector, faithful servant, knightly King... her loving Da.

Then the Father stopped and called the Realm to witness and said, "She shines in radiant splendour! And so henceforth she shall be called Princess Jaina the Radiant! May her days evermore be as brilliant as the Rising Sun at Daybreak, so full of Promise and Hope!" And pausing thence, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and spoke softly to her saying, "I pray thee remember the Magic of these Days, Daughter... my Princess. Never forget..."

Fathers, I implore you... love your Daughters well, honour them highly, nurture them always. They truly are the Princesses and Queens of this Realm, now and forevermore... and of so much more value and worth than we can rightly imagine.

Be blessed,
Lamar

11 April 2011

Instant gratification is a most fickle mistress...

We live and breathe in the world of now. Not content to wait for anything anymore any longer than we say we have to, we forget that some things in life - possibly even most things - are best left to brew, to simmer, to smoulder, to... anticipate. Test my words. Instant gratification has become - no... is, indeed! - an addictive drug like no other. Make no mistake: the more we have of it, the more and more we crave of it. And we are all so very much to blame...


Why sit down and write a letter to someone that I care about when I can email or instant message them? Why go through the trouble of visiting loved ones when I can call them, or better still... just text them from my iPhone? Why go out to a concert when I can just listen to the thing at home on my stereo or iPod? Why take a trip to the theatre when I can peruse the Instant Queue on Netflix? Why read a story aloud to my children when they can just listen to an audio-book instead? Why fuss with a hardbound book or a Library when scores of titles are at-the-ready on my eBook? For that matter, why even bother reading at all when I can simply have the eBook read it to me? Why waste time cooking a meal when I can stop at a drive-through and have it handed to me with a few scant moments? Why hand-wash the dishes after dinner when I can just load the dishwasher and let it get them semi-clean enough to use again? Why walk? Why speak? Why think? Why question? Why risk? Why give? Why care? Why ever dare to love? Why indeed...

And so for the choices that we make, we suffer grave consequence... 

So many of the things that technology has given to us were supposed to help us save time, time that we could spend doing other things with those that we cared most about. But all it seems that our vast technologies and progressive leaps have brought us is a disconcerting disconnect from each other... from our very world. This makes me exceedingly sad... bordering nigh to absolute disconsolation. Nothing is important anymore, nothing has intrinsic value or worth, nothing is sacred or holy, nothing perverse. In fact, nothing seems to matter that much at all really... well, other than ourselves. But even of ourselves we think poorly, seeing in our mirrors much less than erect and sapient... apes. Why must we continue to perpetuate this demeaning, degrading, dehumanising  philosophy? Have we truly become so inherently nihilistic? So reprehensibly selfish?


If we would but slow down for awhile, take in deeply - maybe even slowly - these ever-fleeting moments... we'd see that they are heavy-laden with so much promise and boundless opportunity. But if we never slow down, never pause, never stop in our relentless pursuit after anything but the paramour of what we can have right now... then we really and truly are doomed. Are we not worth so much more than instant? When you really think about it? Worth the time and care and effort and thought and love? Really? I passionately believe so. But an arduous task it will prove to set things back aright, I feel...


Can we genuinely reclaim that which is fallen? Stem the tide or turn it back on itself? In the midst of the desolate ruin that is our lives, would we be willing to turn back the hands of time if we could? 


In so modern a world, where does someone like me truly fit in? Days like these, I wonder. Long have I felt that I was "born into the wrong time". Maybe I'm just destined to feel at odds with all of this... modernity. My heart, my... soul knows this to be true. So I go on questioning all of this so-called progress, contemplating the costs to our humanity - our dignity, and I continue to pine for Days both Ancient and Everlasting... because I care. I care so very much. About, well... everything. And I want to feel... alive. Desperately. All the seeking, wrestling, soul-suffering... I think it helps toward that end. 


Leastwise, I hope it does...


"Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen." - Martin Luther


Be blessed,
Lamar

06 April 2011

Like Bilbo...

'I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved, indeed!' he snorted. 'Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something.'

To be absolutely honest, I think that I've always been old. Growing up I was oft told by the Elders, "You have an old soul, son." "Something in the eyes," they'd say. But I much enjoyed their company and never really questioned what it was that they meant. Still, I loved sitting and listening to all their tales about the "good ol' days". How I desperately miss those folk. I only wish that we'd have had more... time. Maybe one day, we shall...

Truthfully, I guess that I've long hoped to be so much like Old Bilbo... sitting on the steps or around the hearth, smoking my pipe, telling stories of adventures to the young ones. And I always - always - quite liked the look of Gandalf's beard.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever going to make it there, though. And lately I'm starting to really - deeply - feel that stretched feeling that Bilbo speaks of. Oh so very many things to think about! So much to do... or that I'd like to do. And so my mind is preoccupied with thoughts going both backward and forward, here and there and everywhere, remaining - seemingly - in a constant state of disquiet. I guess, more so than anything else and especially of late, I feel keenly restless. And so I... wonder. I don't think that I can do anything else...

I often catch myself pondering over what it all could mean. Why is it that I feel this penetrating restlessness? What exactly is it that I need to do? Want to do? Where precisely is the Road heading off to? And toward what end? So very many questions...

Before Bilbo's journey could get underway, he had to leave something... something of the utmost importance: The Ring. I speculate upon what my own personal Ring is... and give serious thought to my letting go of it... questioning even if I could. And when and if it finally is revealed to me, will I choose to go through with setting it aside? Or will I claim it as my own, as Frodo did there at the Crack of Mount Doom, to the absolute edge of utter ruin? I hope that I can leave it, like Bilbo... and so move along down the Road unhindered.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

I know, I know... I've used this bit before. Still... I long for the day when I'll be able to set aside whatever Ring it is that I bear and join with Bilbo in his 'walking song'. And then? To Rivendell, perhaps...

Namárië,
Lamar

01 April 2011

Of Words, Conversations, and the Use of Language...

To be honest, I could type and type and type. And I think. A lot. About a lot. Probably to a fault. So much so that sometimes I feel as if no one actually gets me...

Recently I have meditated long on the use of words, of language, of both virtual and real-world conversation, of words written, of spoken and unspoken words... and ultimately of the power within something so simple as a single word.

For my part, I have become more and more of the mind that words indeed wield great - or terrible - power. Even amongst our very innermost thoughts, words hold sway over us in ways that we have not yet amply understood. Moreover, I am daily convinced that words are... magical. Do not mistake me to mean magical in the sense of the Art of Illusion, of street-magic trickery, of Davids Copperfield or Blaine... no, I mean a Magic deeper and truer than we could possibly ever hope to imagine or dare to rightly fathom. Words are indeed power...

If you happen to believe, as I do, that the very Universe as we know it was spoken into existence, then you are beginning to understand where my mind is on these matters. Words not only are power, words convey power. They build and destroy, judge and set free, make and unmake. Words harbour love and hate, become our thoughts, form the basis of our feelings. And for the most part, we are so very careless with them. Not only do we think harshly of one another, we speak to each other harshly as well. As I observed not too long ago:

"Respect and Courtesy must seem like only ancient notions to this present - younger - generation. Wallowing in selfishness and entitlement, they miss the very lessons that should be learnt. And so, Insolence and Vulgarity perpetuate and the downward spiral continues to continue. May God forgive us the Legacy that we have wrought. Poor teachers we have been, indeed..."

Ultimately, every generation generation is at fault. Taking from our Fathers and their Fathers, we make our mark on the world... however dark and wrong that mark may be becomes beside the point. And as long as we can "live a better life than they had", then we can truly live. Never mind that maybe our Fathers and their Fathers did things a certain way for a certain reason. But... that is a blog for another day, methinks.

Tearing people down is commonplace, to be sure. Look around you. Everywhere we turn, folk are at each other throats and out for blood. The news media, the internet, the books we read, the entertainment choices we make, our social and political discourse... all paint us ugly pictures of ourselves. We need to paint something else. Why is it that we can't ever seem to voice our opinions - on whatever topic of discussion - without resorting to the coarsest of language? Does hurling vulgarities prove us edgy? Culturally relevant? Do we honestly believe that the more hurtful and insulting our obscenities the more people will listen? Are we really that unintelligent? The English language is arguably the most expressive language in all the world. We have more ways of conveying our thoughts and feelings than most any other peoples alive at any point in human history! And yet we can't frame our passions into words without a constant proliferation of profanities? How absolutely sad. Why continue to use the same few, tired old words for virtually everything? I can tell you why. It's because it's easy. But until we each come to the point of seeing this as an insulting assault upon our God-given intellect, things will ever stay the same... or continue to get much worse, if that's even possible. Hopefully it isn't too late already, as "text-speak" seems to be the direction in which our beautiful language is headed. This - in particular - makes me very, very disconsolate.

And so it seems we have utterly forgotten Courtesy as well. Know that I am not speaking of courtesy that is a sort of placating lie, a contemptible ostentation... but Courtesy that shows a deep love of fellow man, an act of supreme devotion, of an uncalculated genuineness. True Courtesy defies logic. And... O, the words it brings to mind! If we were to exert more effort into speaking to all those we encounter with loving and respectful words, just think of the impact... not just on ourselves but on the receiver... and by extension the world. It must start within us, though. To act as, no... to actually be a Lady or a Gentleman does not depend upon the company that we keep. Truly it should only be an outward expression of an inward reality... at work even if no one were around. Looking upon those that we encounter with love, to build them up... this takes care and thought and is sometimes seemingly impossible. Some will utterly reject your words, your deeds, your love, your respect, your intent... do it anyway. Love unconditionally. I believe it is what we are all truly called to.

With our words to and towards each other we ultimately have a choice set before us; to bless or to curse. Will we choose to bless and thus build up and repair? Or will we choose to curse and therefore tear down and destroy? Each one of us can chart the course of our own mind, our own tongue... why not choose to see folk in a quite different light and speak to them in such a way as to elevate them. After all, if we truly are only "a little lower than the Angels" then we would do well to not crush our kin down "lower than the dust", right?

What honour has been lost can be reclaimed, if we so choose. I will endeavour toward this end, this... beginning. Who will stand with me? What say you?

Be blessed,
Lamar

08 September 2010

Towards the New Year...

For too long I have ultimately felt like I was alone out here in the wilderness. I have been heartened of late to know that I am not alone. Far too many puzzle-pieces have been falling into place... too many "coincidences", though I don't believe in them.

I feel restless. And I feel that I am wrestling with impossible things. But as Angus Buchan once said, "The condition for a miracle is difficulty, however the condition for a great miracle is not difficulty, but impossibility." I don't see many supposedly called by His Name actually wrestling with, well... much of anything... let alone wrestling with God Himself! This has always bothered me. Some that would or have wrestled, it seems, have given up the fight entirely... and given in to the 'status quo'. This is not where I, we, belong...

Jeremiah 6:16 & 17

This is what the LORD says:
"Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls.
But you said, 'We will not walk in it.'

I appointed watchmen over you and said,
'Listen to the sound of the trumpet!'
But you said, 'We will not listen.'

So, this be my prayer going into the New Year:

Here I am, my God and King... I stand ready to walk, willing... and though others may not hear You, I am listening. Amen.

Mercy, peace, and love be yours in abundance.

L'Shana Tovah!

Be blessed,
Lamar

17 May 2010

The Window on the West...


"Tell me, who are you, alone and nameless?"
Tom Bombadil - The Lord of the Rings - Book I / Chapter
Tom Bombadil's question pierces right to the heart of the matter, does it not? And I would venture to say that, more often than not, most of us don't take the time to think about such things. Maybe we should. In fact, I dare...

April 30th - May 2nd, 2010 will forever stand apart for me. You see, during this particular weekend I learned something very profound... and found something that had been so elusive to me that I had nearly given up the hope of finding. No, I had given up hope. And herein lies part of what is so profound to me. It has been in my experience lately that sometimes one must give up even hope to find it. I will do my best to let loose my grip upon it in future times and as need may require. For I have come to see that sometimes our very hope is our greatest enemy. Mind you, I do not intend a hopelessness that lays down and dies but a hopelessness more akin to complete and utter surrender... of laying it aside and continuing to continue, so to speak. With no expectation, no thought of reward or even of and end,
"Still we have to try. It's no worse than I expected. I never hoped to get across. I can't see any hope of it now. But I've still got to do the best I can."

Frodo Baggins - The Lord of the Rings - Book VI / Chapter II
Simply put, I must continue to do what is right simply because it is the right thing to do. Only in giving up all hope can we be receptive to the deepest truth and find "hope unlooked for"... real hope and not our predisposed notions of it.
"There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach."

The Lord of the Rings - Book VI / Chapter II
Sorry. Where was I? Ah! The incomparable weekend... right!

Every year my wife attends the GHEA Homeschool Convention. It's a Girls Only Weekend for her and some other of our good friends. This particular year, Liam and I were left to spend our weekend together, as Jessica took Maegan (our oldest) and Jaina (our youngest) with her. The past couple of years I've let others kind of chart the course of our "boys" weekend, but this year I decided to let everyone know that Liam was strictly "off limits"... this year would be just the two of us and no one else. In sincerest honesty, I should've worked to have it this way to begin with. I pray that our Father/Son Weekend remains an annual tradition... or better, that it grow and spill over into other weekends (or days) throughout the entire year! How can something so wonderful even be described? To say that it was one of the very best weekends of my life is no exaggeration or understatement.

And in spending my time and energy intently focused only on Liam, I learned a lot about myself. Chiefly, that this is really and truly what I am here for: To be a son, a husband, a father, a friend... without peer. Rather, if that were honestly my goal, seldom would I think only of myself! No, I am here to simply... serve. This is what life is all about.

So many of the things we value truly mean very little when you really think about it. The time we are given is a fleeting, precious gift. Make memories that matter.
"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
Gandalf - The Lord of the Rings - Book I / Chapter II
I endeavour not to squander it...

And so, as the lights went down in the theater before How to Train Your Dragon, I found the very thing that I'd given up hope in finding. For so long I'd been searching for a Samwise to my Frodo... but I had it all wrong. My son, he's Frodo... and I'm his Sam. Wherever he leads, I'll follow or I'll carry him if necessary. I'll watch over him and protect him. I'll never give up on him. I'll be here waiting... available. All because I love him... more than my own self.

As the knowledge of this realisation swept over me, my eyes filled with tears. I put my arm around his little shoulders and hugged him tightly. My boy. Emotions were heavy for me that day. The movie being essentially about a father and son relationship didn't help that, and we both cried together at least twice. But I didn't mind, really... I was proud that we could share it together. All said, our Father/Son Weekend was phenomenal... unequalable. And although Liam says he had a great time, I'd still say the greater time had was mine. I mean, it's not every weekend that clarity comes on so... brilliantly.

I titled this blog "The Window on the West" mainly because it is in this particular Chapter of The Lord of the Rings that Frodo and Sam meet Faramir... three men, fictional though they may be, that I highly esteem. After their meeting, they find out much about each other but more, methinks, about themselves... hence I use the title here to invoke a little something of that. Or, at least, that is my hope.

And so, in answer to Tom Bombadil's question, "Who are you, alone and nameless?" I can offer only this: I'm closer still to finding out...


The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began,
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say...
Bilbo Baggins - The Lord of the Rings - Book I / Chapter I


Be blessed,
Lamar

15 April 2010

Unworthy...

Who am I?
That I may touch you?
Were you here...
Could I embrace you?
As dearest friend?
As brother?
As father?
Falling on my face instead
I'll kiss your feet...
Unworthy even of this
With tear-filled eyes
I kiss the ground...
Who am I?
That I may touch you?
I am lowly.
I am dirty.
I do not dare.

14 April 2010

Beginnings...

I need an outlet. I need to write... if for nothing other than my own sanity. I tried to keep a journal... that hasn't worked out so well. So, hopefully, this might be... better.

They say that a journey of a million miles begins with just one step, right? The journey's been long and tough sometimes... but here I am. Maybe I'll share some of it.

Me? Blogging? Like this? Never thought that I'd do such a thing...

Shalom.