Beyond all reason and sanity

2012-02-06T17:25:00.000-08:00

Sunny day in a park. Old man sitting on a bench under a shaded tree near a playground.

Old man: Beautiful day, isn't it Ryan?

Ryan: Sure is Dad, honestly, I'm glad I could get off work for a bit. We just got this new computer system installed and it's setting us all back. my boss is on me to prepare a presentation for this Friday, (Rubbing his eyes ), honestly, I don't know how I'm going to get it all done.

Man: Psh, I'm telling you computers have done nothing but set us back. Back in my day when we went to work, we actually worked. We didn't spend hours fiddling around with wires and whatnot. We use to be productive! (Gesturing a pointed finger in the air). If we had a problem with the boss, we went up and told him, we didn't send him an e-mail.

Ryan: Dad, you know you're a walking cliche sometimes.

Man: (Grunts) How's Lisa doing anyway, she was struggling with some math the last time I saw her.

Ryan: (Sighing). I don't know, she likes school and has a good group of friends. She's just not. .academic, you know? She'd rather draw pictures or listen to music. She wants to sign up for a photography class at school. I try to help her with her schoolwork, but when I try to explain things, it's like she's a million miles away.

Man: Son, she's a smart girl with a kind heart. Just last week she called me up to ask how I was. How many other eleven year old girls call up their stodgy old grandfather to ask how their doing. A letter on a piece of paper doesn't mean anything when it comes down to it. She'll go far Ryan, maybe not in the way you think,but don't worry.

Ryan (smiling): I know, it's just..well, you have a picture of what success is supposed to look like. You want your kids to be happy, to be secure, to go far, get a house. .have a family. And, well, these things don't just drop out of the sky you know dad? You have to work for them. You of all people should know what I'm talking about. I don't know what I'm going to do with her dad.

Old man: (With tears) You're going to love her son, the way I would have loved you. I made a promise to you, that day in the hospital forty years ago, in the moments I got to hold you before the doctors came to take you away. That no matter what you would have become, no matter what mistakes you would have made, that none of it would have mattered.

A young woman approaches the bench.

Young woman: Excuse me sir? Are you all right?

Old man:(Visibly startled) What? Oh. .yes. Yes,I'm fine.

Young woman: Do you mind if I sit here for a bit? It's way to hot out there today.

The old man wipes his eyes and nods.

Young woman: (Smiling, she gestures to the playground) You have a grandchild out there?

Old man: (Sighing) Oh no. No, it's just me.

In search of writers

2011-11-20T11:14:00.000-08:00

Hey, are you out there? Any writers out there feeling a tad isolated?

I know I am.

I took a course several years ago offered by some friends on creative writing. I was skeptical, until several weeks in when something in my brain clicked and a flood of creative steam suddenly burst out of the long dormant geyser of my mind. I realized something in that time, that its important for creative people to stick together because, let's face it, it's easy to go underground and get all moody and depressive. But that's not helpful for anyone is it.

I'd love to find a group of local people who like to write. I didn't say were spectacular at it, but like doing it and were interested, at least once every other week, in getting together over a pint and sharing what you've got. As I've said, it doesn't have to be good, in fact its best if you aren't, that way none of us will feel out of place.

I'm trying to write at least once a day, but it can get discouraging. I continue to be astounded at how lifeless my writing can be at times.

Anyway, peace to one and all out there,
ben

2011-08-23T10:07:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, Bruno Mars (edited for PG viewers):

"I wanna be a billionaire so frickin bad
Buy all of the things I never had
Uh, I wanna be on the cover of Forbes magazine
Smiling next to Oprah and the Queen."

Yes folks, the chorus of his much celebrated hit "I wanna be a billionaire." I could go on about the complete lack of musical talent and how he embodies the miserable state of the music industry these days, but that's a post for another day.

On the one hand, it would be easy to dismiss his unfortunately not tongue and cheek lyrics as shallow and selfish and probably not be wrong in doing so. But I think if we're real honest, there's a whole lot of Bruno in each one of us (perhaps minus the dollar store shades and unfortunate haircut.)

What do you want so frikin' bad?

What gets you out of bed in the morning? Where does your mind go when you lie in the darkness of the night alone with your thoughts? Maybe you don't want to be a billionaire, maybe what you want is a lot more noble then that. I just want to be healthy. I just want a better job. I just want people to like me. I just want secure investments.

I live in the future. No, not physically, but in my mind. I play out lots of "things will be better when" scenarios and find it frequently ends up with me resenting my current lot in life. I also enjoy the occassional bottle of wine and a pipe and tend to throw little tantrums when we can't afford the "little luxuries" of life which really are wants that have evolved into needs.

I'm not sure how many of you are aware of our living situation. Me and my wife and my brother and sister in law live next to each other in a kind of non-conforming duplex and for some time now we have been eagerly anticipating the arrival of a new niece. Azzy would have a little cousin and cease being the center of the grandparents universe.

But then I got a call from my Dad. They had gone to the hospital for a routine checkup.

No heartbeat.

The following few days were the darkest and most discouraging our family has ever known. And as we visited the hospital and saw the still little bundle of blankets, suddenly all my "needs" looked ridiculous and stupid and all that mattered in the whole world was the little body in front of us.

The funeral was the coming Saturday and I was reminded as I looked through tears down on to the tiny white casket, the breath that is our life. Some, like dear little Mirabelle's, barely a whisper, and some of us, well, we get a little longer.

This is the fourth time I've tried to finish this post and all I can think to conclude with is that life is precious. Every breath God allows us to breathe should never be taken lightly. Remember it can be taken just as easily.

Wife

2011-06-09T20:15:00.000-07:00

Let me say first that the following truths/half-truths/completely fabricated testimony has been both requested and approved by my lovely and good humored wife. This being established, I am hereby absolved of any potential consequences or responsibilities arising from its existence.

They say opposites attract. I’m still not sure exactly how this works, but it seems to be true in most every case. It makes sense I suppose, as I’m not sure conversations could even exist between people who share all the same interests. Still, as long as priorities are different between two people, there will be conflict.

Frustrating? Sometimes. Humorous? Hopefully. Necessary? Of course.

My wife is an artist, and consequently, prefers her surroundings to be colorful, engaging, and completely cluttered. . .I mean cozy. There have been many debates as to the exact definition of the word cozy. To me, it signifies a flickering candle, bare feet on a plush carpet or perhaps the soft glow of a wood stove on a cold day.

It is certainly not the paranoid fear of being flattened by a tower of one’s own possessions.

Take our entrance for instance. To me, the entrance-way is an essentially practical room; its sole purpose exists in being a place where muddy footwear can be thrown where it may. My personal preference is directly in front of the door jam so I can cackle manically while some poor soul attempts to open it.

But not my wife. She has transformed this lowly dwelling of boots and shoes into a page from the knickknack havens gift catalogue. Shelves are lined with a variety of handmade objects, several hundred pictures of our daughter, and large colorful jars no doubt containing yet more handmade objects. If you’ve ever seen grocery store shelves bowing precariously due to several bags of cat littler piled on top of them you’ll have an idea what ours look like.

But, you ask, where do they all come from? Well, due to the dearth of travelling gypsy trinket wagons in our area, my wife turns to the next best thing, and my least favorite enterprise in all the world. . .The Dollar Store.

Picture this; there we are at the dollar store. I’m loitering in the fake foliage aisle marveling at a plastic hydrangea when suddenly my wife is there behind me. “Look at this cute basket,” she says. “Yes, it’s nice,” I say uneasily, “but we have 46 other baskets like it at home.” She looks at me like I’d just refused to buy her mother’s heart medication and meanwhile I pretend I’m way too interested in some bulrushes. Deep within my heart, I already know this basket doesn’t have a prayer. It’s days of resting empty and carefree on a prefabricated metal shelf are long gone. It too will soon contribute to the inevitable collapse of our poor entrance shelf.

My wife also enjoys creating. This might mean turning a blank canvas into a beautiful landscape; or it might mean turning an otherwise ordinary and practical object like a pillow, into something covered in fur, sequins, or wings and feet.

There was a special pillow that used to nestle into our couch which I rather enjoyed resting my head on from time to time. It was a modest beige pillow, but it’s rather unassuming character was a kind of comfort to me. One day I decided to have a little nap so I gathered up my friendly little cushion, closed my eyes, and buried my face deep within it. Seconds later I was screaming in agony as thousands of tiny sequins that had never been there before carried out permanent damage to my face. Fortunately several weeks of liberal calendula application has left my with minimal scarring.

My wife’s sense of smell, for whatever reason, is heightened beyond that of mortal frame. We walk through the front door and, within moments, her nose begins to wrinkle and I just know it’s because she’s caught some scent on the wind. This morning’s bacon, the litter box, a recently opened a can of cashews. Perhaps a mouse has awoken in some distant part of the house and snuck in a small Caesar the night previous. Of course I never smell anything. This is because: A. My nose is in some way deficient or B. my wife’s nose is in some way over-efficient C. The smell is me so I’m unable to decipher it.

And at night? We have a nice big queen sized mattress. Big enough for two, right? Wrong. No matter how far apart we are when we lay down, I just know I’ll wake up freezing, precariously teetering on the edge of our bed. Like some giant caterpillar my wife spins and twists until her entire body is encased between several layers of blankets. I usually don’t like to complain, but it’s difficult to remain cheerful when your entire body is encased in a thin layer of ice. When I explain her tendencies during the night, she seems totally unaware of it. I show her the place where my big toe used to be before being lost to frostbite and still she remains unconvinced. I’m always hesitant to wake her up during the night since, for some reason, my meek and mild mannered wife is transformed into a raging psychopath in her dreams. She’s always bludgeoning or stabbing someone into pulp using blunt and ineffective tool.

I try to avoid going downtown with my wife whenever possible, or at least if I have to be somewhere at a certain time. Inevitably every single person we walk past is in some way tied irrevocably to her past. I’ve never met them in my life of course (at least I think so) but I make my face to light up as if they’d just awarded me with a golden pegasus statue. Mostly I just smile and nod and laugh at the appropriate places. “Oh have you met my husband?” “Oh of course,” they respond, “we met at the farmers market three years ago in front of the turnip booth.” Shoot.

These are some ways my wife is different from me, but despite all my ranting, they’re certainly not all negative. She is an infinitely patient woman, always ready with a kind word or a beautiful smile. She makes our house interesting, which is probably good, since if it were up to me, we’d be living in “the old inglis place” complete with the haunted screams of the bored and uninspired.

She’s an artist, a fantastic mother, a lover of people, and the only girl I’ll ever love.

On shrubs and the art of shrubbing.

2011-05-08T15:21:00.000-07:00

We moved last summer. Among other things, this meant no more walks in our beloved Jackson park. No more picking wildflowers, no more tossing rocks into the stream, no more protecting my family from packs of feral dogs that breed in the woods. Now we must content ourselves with the meandering sameness of south end residential purgatory.

But I have found solace in the most unlikely of places. The common boxwood.

A boxwood is a deciduous shrub that can be hacked and slashed into an almost endless variety of shapes and sizes. Though a common spectacle in the suburban setting, I have nevertheless come to the conclusion that most people are simply not worthy of it.

You'll find boxwood owners typically fall into the following categories:

THE SLOB

This ones easy to spot as you'll probably need a machete to make it past the sidewalk in front of their house. If you could see past the chaos of the shrub, you'd find an array of garbage, cats, and empty cans of Budweiser strewn about the front yard. An algae encrusted kiddie pool and a rusted swing set will probably also be present.

You may think I'm generalizing but just believe me when I say that the hedge makes the man.

THE ARTIST

Think Edward Scissorhands and you'll know what I'm talking about. These people are not content to let a shrub be a shrub and I remain convinced the majority of the culprits lead spectacularly unfulfilled lives and feel they must live their lives vicariously through a pair of hedge trimmers. The shapes rarely follow a theme and soon after their creation rogue branches begin to poke out further confusing an already confused shape.

One could stand for hours trying to ascertain whether the duck is eating the sandwich or actually just beating it with a garden rake.

THE CONFUSED ARTISAN

I was not even aware this category existed until last summer when I passed by a house that looked as if a poorly brought-up geometry equation had exploded on the front lawn. Rows and rows of fractal confusion had been carefully sculpted and lead, as far as I could tell, absolutely nowhere. I found myself pondering the origin of such a massive architectural failure:

Did the designer honestly see Debbie Trapezoid and Lloyd Octagon ever being able to posses a
functioning, healthy, relationship?

Was he abused as a child by a 90 degree angle?

THE WELL ADJUSTED/OBSESSIVE SHRUBBIST

Few and far between, a well pruned boxwood is a wonder to behold and my wife can attest to the slow smile of admiration that creeps across my face when we approach one. Although a perfect sphere is tolerable, what truly excites me is the lush and full rectangular shrub that's been honed to a razor's edge, there are actually several in my neighborhood that I could literally stand in front of for the better part of the day.

Do I realize how much time, dedication, and skill go into a well shaped shrub?

I would probably weep if I did.

As we pass a lawn, I typically judge it on a scale from one to ten; A ten is rarely awarded whereas three and four's are routinely doled out. I ensure toproclaim my scores rather loudly and clearly specify the flaws that prevented a higher score. I have seriously contemplated starting a shrubbing scrapbook but, unexplainably, I lapse into severe depression when I actually sit down to do it.

Happy Shrubbing,

Ben

This is to signify I live.

2011-05-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

Hello reader.

Are you out there? Have you moved on to better, more consistent, bloggers? Do you even read anymore? Or does the latest issue of people magazine satisfy your intellectual pursuits. Look at me, insulting my reader(s) in the first paragraph.

Do you know how many hundreds of thousand of websites, podcasts, and e-books are just out there floating around like dazed jellyfish? Like my poor blog here, many find themselves washed up on a beach somewhere where even the young child that had been poking them with a stick has finally lost interest.

But jellyfish are extremely resilient, scientists predict that eventually the only thing left in the oceans will just be millions and millions of jellyfish.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want my blog to be a jellyfish. Maybe that small child will come back and give me a boot back into the water.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, raise your fist for the mighty jellyfish . . .

. . .and expect a little more regularity from me while your at it.

Your friend,
ben

2010-12-02T06:53:00.000-08:00

How many times can you listen to "Santa Baby" before vomiting all over the floor in the Sears houseware department. Do you know what figgy pudding is yet? Do you even have a sleigh. . .or a horse to tie it to? Do you have enough bells, whistles and egg nog keggers to placate the imminent horde of jolly, thirsty, well-wishers?

It's supposed to be a merry time. A time for family, friends, and copius amounts of gift-giving. A time to forget about how much you can really afford; the important thing is that you continue to wave your credit card around like a drunken Samurai. A time to build that biceplical figure you've always wanted by heaving around engorged flyer packs. A time to entrench tradition, a time to wake up seven hours early to preheat your car that looks like a remnant from the last ice age.

But I'm not bitter. I do like Christmas, or more specifically, I like the food associated with it. Why just last week I dropped way to much money for the most extravagant recipie I've ever laid eyes on. That's right folks: Christmas fruit cake. The kind that needs about 73 bizzarre ingrediants before exfoliating in half a pint of brandy for several weeks. A sliver of that stuff will keep you full. . and happy. .for hours!

You know what else is amazing about Christmas? It get's me thinking about things that really are too big for my no doubt below average brain. It gets me thinking about the trinity.

Last week, I had to do prepare a lesson on the trinity for a dozen young children. You know how hard that is? You know how hard it is to explain that one God can also be three entities? And that a Father can come to earth as His own Son? Doctrines like this just roll of our tongues but just stop and try to get your mind around it. . .it's impossible. But we need to try!

After I finished this lesson, I found God seemed. .I dunno. .bigger. .in my mind. I just sat and thought about how a completely unfathomable being can take on a human form and, get this, wash the feet of his own creation! A loathsome, disobediant creation that wants nothing more than to be free of it's own life source.

I tried to work through some of these thoughts with my wife, the conversation went something like this:

Me: Bu. . Wh. .it's. .I can't. .

My Wife: . . .

Me: Can y. . just. . beyon. .

My Wife: I'll put on some coffee.

Galactic high five to you all,
ben

2010-11-11T10:09:00.000-08:00

There once was a young man who thought himself clever and witty.

He liked to write ridiculous, unhelpful things that people found humorous but also vastly unedifying. Not surprisingly, this type of writing began to make him feel empty inside and devoid of spirit. He felt much like a seller of candy floss, producing a product that people might enjoy but that also offers them zero nutritional content.

He began to read certain works of literature and discovered two things. Firstly, that his writing was absolutely clumsy and devoid of much skill. Secondly, that he wanted to write things that people would enjoy, but that might also help them in some way.

He also realized that the amount of people who actually sit down and read were becoming fewer and fewer and that most people were more anxious about whether their phone plan included unlimited texting. Nevertheless, he wanted to honor God with the coin he had been given and to invest it in something that might do more for people that cause them to crack a smile.

More to come,

godspeed good people,

ben

2010-11-07T12:21:00.000-08:00

It was a grey day, a day to be productive. I packed up my laptop and made my way to a local coffee shop. I was going to write something inspiring today, but ideas were banging on my screen door like undisciplined howler monkeys. They needed to be taught a lesson. They needed to put on uncomfortable straight legged khakis and salute when addressed. Their days of playing in the pansy patch were over.

But these were not military men.

They didn't like to form orderly ranks and would rather eat jelly beans and scribble nonsense on the whiteboard of my brain. They would wrestle, and scream and throw pointy objects at one another. My ideas didn't deserve to be put on paper, they deserved to be thrown into a psychiatric ward and given obscene doses of antiphsychotic medication until finally drugged into submission.

I would then pick them up in my big white van and nurse them back to mental health. I would force upon them structured schedules which would include twelve hour long days of pilates. They would beg for mercy before the end but I would only shake my head sadly and tell them it was for their own good. There would be many casualities but I would charge ahead, conscious of the end goal.

Eventually they would get up before me, have a shower, and pour themselves a large bowl of nutritiously bland cereal; they would wash it down with a protein shake and a handful of strength-enhancing vitamins. They would also address me as sir and do Steven Seagal impersonations on command. They would be helpful and organized and become close friends rather than a screaming horde of ill-mannered primates.

Until that time, like some ineffective subsitute teacher, I'll stare on wide-eyed and unsure, praying that someone will lend me a white van and perhaps a manual on proper sentence structure.

The Cat Walk

2010-10-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

As a young boy, I remember sitting in front of the big picture window in our living room watching all the people walk their dogs past my house. I'll never forget the pride in the owner's eyes as they paraded down the street, as if the animal pulling them forward somehow culminated who they were, a sort of familiar embodying respective hopes and dreams.

I would run to find my parents, begging for a dog of my own. Alas, they would smile knowingly and shake their heads, treating me perhaps to a summary of the "maybe when you're older" lecture that I'd practically memorized by now. "Take Thomas for a walk," they would say, "he needs the exercise anyway." I would wince, and despair, and soon mope my way back to the window.

Thomas, was our enduring house cat. He had been both neutered and de-clawed at a young age and had never forgiven us for either. Instead, he would relegate himself to certain dark corners of the house and brood, plotting his revenge on the people who had made him the monster he was today. I longed for a sociable pet, a furry friend who had my back and would stand by me when no one else would. Instead, my lot in life was an embittered old eunuch with emotional baggage and an eating disorder. . .and to "walk" Thomas meant ultimate humiliation, the kind that no boy should ever have to endure at such a young age.

Now, let me say now what I have always believed and hold true, and that is that cat's should never be taken for walks. Though I can't put my finger on it, there is nevertheless something dark and profoundly disturbing about "taking the cat for a walk." Having said this, you can understand my list of things I would rather do than walk Thomas would fill several pages and include such things as lighting my eyebrows on fire and dressing up as a ruptured appendix for halloween.

However, I could not argue that Thomas was a little on the obese side and, in certain times of great weakness, I did feel something like pity well up within me at the sight of the mass of gray matter attempting to heave itself up the basement stairs. If you stood withing several feet of Thomas, you could literally hear him breathing, something between a deflating basketball and the lonely whistle of a distant train. Some people say that a train whistle brings with it feelings of excitement and mystery, but for me, it is the sound of Thomas. . .more specifically, it is the sound of me carrying Thomas up the rest of the stairs to his litter box where he will relieve himself. It is the sound of the smell of freshy laid cat turd filling the air with evil and hopelessness and everything that's ever made me want to give up on life. So no, I've never like the sound of train.

Sometimes, against my better judgement and knowing the inevitability of regretting my decision halfway through, I would take him for a walk. I would stand in front of him and say in my most optimistic voice,"who wants to go for a walk, Thomas, would you like to come?" And then he would kind of look at me vacantly as I imagine an invalid would look at a triathelete who had just suggested they go for a run. But I would pick him up and secure him in his seven point harness and begin the slow walk of shame to our front door.

And then we were outside and I would set him down on the lawn and give the leash a little tug. At this point, I imagine a dog would immediately be off, straining and sniffing, barely able to contain itself as a vast world of possibilities lay before him. But not Thomas. Instead, a look of unmistakable sourness would creep slowly over his droopy face, as if I'd just dunked his head into a vat of red wine vinegar. I would sometimes crouch and attempt to peer into his eyes looking for. .something, anything, a spark that would reassure me that there was indeed a living soul buried deep within. It proved a dangerous and futile exercise however because withing minutes, I found myself poised at the brink of despair itself, wondering if life was indeed worth living. I would manage to pull myself out just in time to reassure myself that I was still a littel boy with a whole life ahead of me.

Me and Thomas rarely got past the first step, and if we did, his heart rarely allowed for a second. If nothing else, the fresh air would at least purge the aroma that seemed to linger within Thomas's immediate vicinity which may best be described as an unholy stew of curdled milk and musty dankness.

And so, having thus adventured, we would retreat back into the house. Thomas to his food dish, and me to my picture window.

2010-08-25T06:43:00.000-07:00

I can not describe to you now the sense of peace, calm, and utter contentment I felt while in that place. I felt at that point fuller than I ever have in my life, as if my thirst had finally been quenched, and I could finally sit down and rest.

And the colors, oh the colors. Vivid shades and hues I had not thought possible flashed before my eyes and filled the place and as I looked up I felt as if the ceiling stretched on and on until it became swallowed up by distant moons and galaxies which spun round and round all about me.

And finally, a being, or a figure, or an eternal spirit enveloped the entire space and I was sure the source of. .finality. . of conclusiveness, proceeded from Him. A billowing robe seemingly fashioned from stars and light waved and flapped so I could not make out His face, though I'm sure I would have burnt to ash had been able to.

My senses now felt saturated, unfit and almost useless for the task of taking in the indescribable beauty now before me. As if I had been given a spoon to carve out a canyon. But I could make out, if only barely, layers and layers of, and now my language fails me, but. .incredibly complex. . .otherness? And I knew in my heart that one could never reach the end, could never finally turn over the last layer and be finished, but like an endless book of wonders you could continue in amazement for a literal eternity.

I wanted to stay, oh my tired body yearned for it, but a vision is only that and one cannot live forever in a dream. One day though, one day I will be turned and made to comprehend and exist in that perfect state, until then I thirst.

Psalm 27:4

On thing have I asked of the Lord,
that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of me life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and the inquire in his temple.

2010-08-05T06:08:00.000-07:00

Hello (hello. . hello. .) anybody out there?

Decided it was high time to drag this dusty old thing out of the waffle iron/electric knife cupboard again, really who reads blogs anymore, especially when you can just get a play by play of everyone's life via facebook and twitter. . .

"Geroge has just gotten out of the shower."

"Geroge is considering whether or not to eat cornflakes."

"Geroge is applying topical cream to his hemorrhoids."

"Geroge has just shaved a stay cat."

Merciful goodness Geroge, don't make me disband you from my "friends" list.

All right, recent events. I recently received a great read from a friend called, "The Search for God and Guiness," by Stephen Mansfield. It provides a satisfyingly informative history of the Guiness family and their (original) desire to serve God by creating a hearty brew that's purpose was meant for more then simply rendering one inebriated. Aside from providing a much higher than average wage, the original company also had a full range of services available to it's employees and their families including doctors and dentists on staff and various classes and training workshops for them to take part in.

Really the overarching theme for me was the desire of one man to define a life of service to God as not mutually exclusive with one's own vocation. The entirety of our lives is to be brought under the lordship of Christ whether family life, work, leisure or church.

In other news, I recently purchased a tobacco pipe which I have been enjoying immensely to the glory of God. It is a long stemmed "churchwarden" style pipe which provides a nice cool smoke as well as bestowing a hobbit like ambience to whatever activity I happen to be involved with.
It is a meditative activity, one that requires me to slow down and ponder (amidst the half dozen relights) whatever issues I'm working through. Combine it with a nice cask-aged bitter? Yes please.

I hope to be providing some pipe tobacco reviews in the upcoming days, at least my impressions however misguided they might be. Also I plan on discussing another book I've been enjoying recently so stay tuned! Or not.

Glad tidings be upon you

Thoughts on Nature

2010-03-05T08:12:00.000-08:00

You know what?

I enjoy nature. Now I hope that you are now picturing me in your mind me twirling around in a meadow clad in a breezy linen shirt with various birds perched on my shoulders, singing to the heavens, because this is what I do.

I also chain myself to bulldozers and compost my own feces.

In all seriousness though, I do love to see the sun as reflected through a canopy of leaves, the pale greenish glow of illuminated chlorophyll dancing off the forest floor. To witness the iridescent hue of a dragonfly as it hovers over a still pool of water. Have you ever taken a walk in the early morning hours and heard the swelling calls of hundreds of little birds, if you haven't, I encourage this exercise heartily.

But you know what? I don't merely love nature for itself, that is it say, I love it for the way it points me to it's Creator, my Creator. Sometimes it makes me so sad to read great naturlists like Charles Darwin, David Susuki, and Bernd Heinrich, that have come so close. These undeniably great minds who know so much more then most of us will ever know about the earth. . . who then say so unclimactically in the end that they made themselves the way they are. They are the ones who have adapted. They are the ones who have evolved. They are the ones who have endured to the place they are at today.

Observe the Golden-crowned Kinglet. Be amazed at how this tiny bird, weighing only 5 grams, can survive temperatures of -30 F, how it can somehow find the means to survive in such frigid temperatures.

Witness the resurrection fern turn brown, curl into a ball and appear to be dead during a dry spell, and then, upon contact with water, uncurl and 'come back to life.'

Grab a Peterson guide and take a nature walk, let the beauty of God's handiwork inspire your heart to worship.

"The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard."

The Evolution of Resent

2010-01-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

Resentment. Can you see it? Can you feel it? You could be forgiven for missing it, for when it is small it looks nearly harmless, innocent even. . .something like a hamster with scales. You know it's not right or natural, but what the heck, it's not going to hurt anyone right?

Maybe at first you'll take it out and pet it. Maybe you'll give it some peanuts or galvanized nails or whatever it is a hamster with scales might eat. What do you know! It likes you. So you decide to let it out of it's cage. . .and what do you know! It follows you around. At first the clacking of it's reptilian paws unnerves you, but you soon learn to ignore it, and before you know it, only the sound of familiar music remains, maybe a Garfunkle or a Dylan.

But turn your head. Where did your scaley friend go? He left. But don't worry because his friend bitterness came to take his place. He's not so nice to look at with his razor sharp barb spines and dull, gray eyes, but hey, you've gotten used to a metal hamster so this can't be much different, right? But guess again. He is different. He's hungrier, so nails and crummpets don't cut it any more. He likes. . .meatier things. . .like your heart, with a side of your soul. He's also angrier and doesn't like to be stroked, he kind of just lurks around in dim corners, waiting for you to look away.

Look again. A looming minotaur with burning eyes. A heap of corpses. . .your own corpse. His name is rage and he is not at all pretty to look at. He knows how to do one thing and that thing is hate. Will you tell him stories? Will you let him meet your parents? He would swallow your stories and gore your parents.

So please, take a sledge and flatten that hamster while you can. Is he dead? Hit him again, make sure he doesn't stir.

2009-11-30T09:39:00.000-08:00

Well, I had fun with this one, that's about all that can be said.

Donovan Stiltwell felt at the top of his class. Early this morning, at a half past seven, it was he himself that strolled down to the five and dime shop to purchase himself a brand fancy new Chapstime wristwatch. The kind with hands and an adjustable strap. There were two time settings. The right time, for those who care to be on time in good time, and the wrong time, for folks who aren't afraid to take the world by the horns and TELL IT WHAT TIME IT IS.

Whistling his way to the front door, Donovan instinctively reached out for the ol' bowler and quickly halted, not THIS day, today was going to be dandy hair day. Quick as a nickle, Donovan flicked a small comb from his breast pocket and a hefty tin of beeswax from the other and, within minutes, had slicked, nicked, and flicked his way into a promising prospect of palpable promotions. Hair firmly in place, he hop-skipped his way down the street towards the leather factory. . .what would his friends think of him now?

Donovan strolled through a flap of plastic that led into the work room and almost bumped into a stoutly man in a plush, otter-fur sweater. "Mornin', Tate" he said.

Tate regained his composure and tipped his umbrella,"Mornin' Donovan, you look to be in a fine wine and dinin' mood this day, what's got you all up on your high horses,".

"Tate, this feelin' I'm in can't just be pincushioned like a raggedy ottoman, it's something that can't really be 'splained easy like. I feel as if I'm a bee on the wind, the shaft of an axe, the thumb of a mitten, you know what I mean? He motioned at an overhead ceiling fan.

"I think so Donovan," Tate replied with a nod, "kind of like when I step out o' the shower to find somebody done placed a dry towel ready for me to dry off with."

Donovan stared blankly at his friend and shook his head, "That ain't at all what I mean Tate, I swear sometimes it's as if a cecropia took up residence in that skull o' yours."

Suddenly Donovan flipped of his bowler and flinged it at Tate with an expert flick of his wrist. Tate barely had time to dive out of the way and he heard the hat embed itself deeply into the doorframe where his head had been moments before. Thinking quickly, he produced several menacing looking throwing knives from his sleeve which he hurled in rapid succession at Donovan who winced painfully as one found it's mark in his shoulder. Growling, he ripped the knife out and broke it in half, then darted at Tate who wasn't quick enough this time to avoid a knee directly into his stomach.

Tate dropped to the floor, gasping for air, "All right, enough my young apprentice, it is clear you have improved." Donovan bowed respectfully at the man as blood pooled on the floor next to him. "It will heal with time, deep wounds build character."

2009-11-30T09:31:00.000-08:00

For what it's worth, I'm not proud of this piece, it's an attempt at a birthday story.

Clad only in a cloth hewn from a mighty birch, the barbarian was an imposing figure. Festering, bleeding wounds covered his biceplical figure with the effect only heightening his already fearsome aura. Several arrows had imbedded themselves deeply into his flesh which he tore out scornfully, tossing them aside with equal abandon.

Wading through the waist deep sea of corpses, he strode atop a slight incline in the jagged rock and, lifting his fearsome battle axe into the air, he issued forth a fearsome battle cry. As the last note echoed, a sinister portal the color of pitch appeared suddenly before him, it radiated vileness and reeked of all sin.

The warrior stepped closer and challenged loudly, "I call upon all that is darkness and evil, grant me a demon so powerful, so terrifying, that all my enemies may wish they had never been born and the very heavens shake in it's presence," a bolt of lighting then arked from his upraised weapon into the churning sky.

The portal began to stir and shift until all at once, a small figure emerged in a puff of acrid smoke. Immediately the portal dissapeared and the dark clouds overhead dissapated until the sky was blue and the sun shone all around them.

The barbarian executed a mighty leap in the direction of the figure and slammed his axe down a hairsbreath away from it's face. "I am Ben, the barbarian, I have sacrficed much in bringing you here, stand on your feet demon, and tell me your name."

The quivering figure attempted to get on his feet only to collapse in a heap a few seconds later. It tried this four or five times and only eventually succeded by propping itself against a nearby stump. He looked hopefully at his new master who by now was standing slack-jawed and bewildered by his incredible misfortune. "Daniel," he whined, "Daniel is my name."

Ben mouthed the word Daniel several times before he could finally come up with something to say. "I left my family, traveled many thousands of miles, massacred legions of enemies and finally pledged myself to the dark lord only to be rewarded with this? A three-legged goat-boy named Daniel?" He fell to his knees and cursed loudly into the sky.

The Daniel smiled softly and limped his way over to the broken man. "There, there, Ben, don't give up hope for I have many awesome abilities with which to smite your enemies." He winked, then lost his balance and toppled once more into a nearby hedge. The barbarian raised his eyebrows, then began to slowly back away when a muffled "wait" emerged from the bush, "wait, I have many more tricks." In spite of himself, Shane did stop and look once more toward the mangy demon. "What, what could you possible do that would be even remotely useful to me besides dropping dead so I don't have to look at you anymore."

With a twinkle in his eye, Daniel heaved himself out of the bush and began to set up a small pile of twigs, then, upon finding two sticks of similar length and diameter and using short, brisk strokes, he produced a wisp of smoke and, eventually a flame. "Ta-da!" he said happily, "I can make fire out of nothing!"

Shane paused for a moment, then walked slowly over to the smiling half-goat and bent down next to him. Gently taking Daniel's raggedy tail, he produced a small tinder box from a pouch and, moments later, promptly lit the miserable thing on fire. "Ta-da," he said as the coyote slowly burned away until only the foul smell of burning dog remained.

Happy Birthday Daniel, may you be someday by summoned by a kindlier barbarian.

2009-11-09T05:52:00.000-08:00

I open my eyes as wide as I can. The world is a blurry mess, a kalaediscope of indistinguishable colors. The voice of Abraham Lincoln whispers that I forgot to put the seat down again and I swear a pale green unicorn just galloped past with two balloons tied to it's tail.

Wasn't there something I needed to do? Put marbles in a tree stump? Consciousness streams in and out and I stumble toward a bright light only to collapse in a stupor after a few, shaky steps. Seemingly simple phrases become impossible projects and I find myself relying on small, somewhat primitive barking sounds to communicate. I'd jump up and down in frustration but I have a suspicion the ground would give out when I landed. . .and I'm not sure I remember how to be frustrated.

Suddenly, a pungent waft of something beautiful passes under my nose and, through the gremlins asking me to take them to the zoo, I am able to make out a familiar dripping sound and stumble toward my salvation. Before me stands an ivory pitcher into which a curious yet somehow appealing black substance dribbles from what appears to be a bag of fur tied up neatly with twine.

My hands work independently. They reach for the pitcher and lift it toward my mouth. As the substance fills my senses, my eyes clear and I am standing in my kitchen looking down at my coffee stained shirt.

I am the proud father of an eleven day old girl.

Take three with water.

2009-10-22T08:19:00.000-07:00

Welcome all.

Blow the dust off a chair, grab a marmalade scone, and gather in close.

Today is tunic day folks. That's right, it's time to dig out that old tunic you've been reserving for a possible renaissance revival, put it on, and wear it with pride. Celebrate your tunic, give it kind words and be careful of the mustard please because tunic's don't respond well to a quick tumble in the washing machine. Feel the wind as it blows through the loosely sewn burlap, savour the cold air against your bare skin. Do you feel alive? Or do you just feel itchy.

Whatever, just be glad you can feel.

Does anyone remember leprosy? It cause's nerve damage in the arms and legs which in itself is not a huge problem, however, the problem occurs when you've just put your effectively dead hand on a red hot burner as you attempt to reach up for that last jar of pickles on the top shelf of your cupboard. You don't even realize what has happened until you see your hand fire. Do you still feel like a pickle now?

Can you smell the leaves? Can you feel the earth? Can you breathe? Tunic day aside, these are supernatural privileges folks! Every day we can do these things (and if it's not your habit to bend down occasionally and smell the earth, I highly recommend it) and thank God for allowing us to live another day to His glory. To see the beauty of the earth, to kiss our wives, to feel the abrasiveness of a tunic.

2009-03-20T05:48:00.000-07:00

So who's tired of isolated lives, daunting mortages, and jobs that don't allow us to ever connect with anyones outside our houses.

If you answered yes to any of the above then we are probably on the same page.

About four years ago now I stumbled on Shaine Claiborne's book " The Irresistible Revoluion," I have read it several times since and, while certainly not agreeing with everything in the book, still think the basic vision he outlines makes alot of sense.

Claiborne is part of a what is called an intentional community called 'the simple way' located in of the poorest sections in Philidelphia. It is made up of number of like minded individuals who hae given up the american dream and replaced it with a desire to reach other people with the love of Jesus, being his hands and feet in an otherwise abandoned section of America's empire. They share meals, finances, vehicles, wisdom, friendship and, well, pretty much everything! From community gardens to garages to camps for kids. . .together they have created something out of nothing.

This is so contrary to our minds isn't it? We want our own homes, our own money, our own lives with little sections a day or two a week where other people can come in. . .but please don't stay too long! We live lives beyond our means because we live a society that says this is normal. We live isolated lives consisting of jobs, meals, and maybe some brief time with family. Where is the visible church? Do people see and know it by our love for one another?

I've been secretly wanting to be involved in something like this for awhile now, secretly because in the past, reception has usually not been altogether positive. People get strange ideas about communes, kool-aid, and god knows what else. To be honest I more Christians are actually interested but maybe are not ready for such a big step.

My wife and I are pregnant and, God willing, when out child comes, I don't want to bring him up with the notion that isolation is a virtue. Independence is a virtue. Selfishness is a virtue. But rather into the vital practice of community, sacrifice, hospitality and ultimately, a more abundant life.

"Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another, and so much more as you see the day approaching." (Hebrews 10:25)."

Elements of a healthy garden.

2009-03-08T18:24:00.000-07:00

If you want a nice garden that doesn't kill children and nice animals, you might consider the following

Building a healthy soil, this may include:

-The frequent addition of organic matter (humus) including compost, manure, and the use of cover crops (crops such as winter rye and clover that are planted for the soul purpose of tilling under.)

-Ensuring a regular crop rotation is applied (not planting potatoes two years in a row for example), this discourages the build up of pests and diseases and encourages a balanced consumption of soil nutrients.

-Removing fertilizers altogether. Rich, healthy, soil does not require fertilization, in fact plants that depend on their regular application are weaker and tend to be more prone to disease. The exception is the use of "compost tea," which is the runoff from your home compost pile.

Maintaining diversity within the garden:

The larger the range of plants in your garden, the less likely it will be that a certain pest rises up to the point of declaring genocide. A healthy garden will contain a roughly equal portion of both pests and predators.

Yes, you may find aphids on your nasturtiams, hornworms on your tomatoes, and slugs on your hostas, but spray for these and you'll also kill the ladybugs that eat the aphids, the tobbacco wasp that lays it's eggs on the hornworm, and the frog which eats the slugs (frogs are especially sensitive to pesticides.

You may not have the most spotless leaves in town, but you'll be able to rest easy knowing your garden is a safe place for both creature and human.

Use native plants wherever possible:

Native plants are those that belong to this land. They are able to better withstand cold weather, drought, disease, and pests because they have been created to do so in a specific area.

That tea rose never seems to come up after a long, cold winter? Try replacing it with an equally beautiful native plant such as the wild lupine or purple coneflower. Or how about that spot in your yard that just gets a full eight hours of blazing sun, frying your every attempt at a display? Try sowing some swaths of black eyed susan, aster, or goldenrod. These plants will thrive almost anywhere and bring color and life to an otherwise water-consuming area.

Many insects sole source of food comes from native plants as well. An example can be seen in the monarch butterfly larva as they rely exclusively on the native milkweed for sustanance.

You can still have a beautiful garden this summer and following these easy steps may be a good way to start.

hugs,
ben

2009-02-08T17:47:00.000-08:00

'THERE'S PROBABLY NO GOD... NOW STOP WORRYING AND ENJOY YOUR LIFE'

No doubt you've heard of the recent campaign. Hundreds of buses accross England, Scotland and Wales in the upcoming months will be plastered with the above message in an attempt to "encouraged people to enjoy life instead of worrying about what happens afterwards." The project is inspired by none other then Richard Dawkins.

I find this statement intruiging on a number of levels. We are encouraged to enjoy our life, the implication being that a belief in God is irreconciliable with enjoyment. I am not sure who to blame for this prevading misconception. Have we as followers of Jesus neglected to radiate joy to those around us? Do we worry to much?

We are told that once God is forgotten, humanity can be free once again to embrace "life". . .yet what is life without God? How can we forget the One who holds up every natural law, every element, every sense of order, decency, and common grace in this present world. In this reasoning, the pilot, to truly be free, must forget about the plane he is flying. And he would be free of course. . .free to plummet straight to earth in a firery, avionic meteor.

And. .probably no God? Really? "There's probably no venomous snakes at the bottom of that dark pit, so stop worrying and just jump in." Even from a purely secular standpoint, this seems a pretty tenuous position to hold. There's probably no Judge, no hell, no accountability at the end of our life. . .probably? Do you really want to wait and see? I can tell you definately, there is a death, and we all better be darn sure about where we're going afterwards.

I am still not really sure what the end goal of this message really is? Is it really to rally the peoples of the earth under the banner of optimistic agnosticism? Or is it something more sinister, our dark foe disguised as an innocent campaign designed to distract people from the really important questions. To wave away God as not only irrelevant, but actually as a hinderance to a happier life.

Let me assure you friends, this is just another battle in the larger war. I can say without qualification that this campaign will not end with the discounting of Christianity, no more then when Friedrich Nietzsche proclaimed "God is dead." The gates of hell, though imposing, can go no further than God allows. Onward Christian soldier.

Things that should or should not tear me up inside.

2009-01-24T22:48:00.001-08:00

But they do. . .so now I'm giving them to you so you may or may not be torn up yourself.

In 2002, a group of journalists and reporters went on a tour of various sweat/toy shops in Guangdong Province in China. As they attempted to interview several employees and managers, what they saw and heard shocked them.

Individuals forced from rural towns and villages have fled to cities in search of jobs, many of which require long, grueling hours of work under unsafe working conditions. And here's the clincher. . .

"This place is the epicentre of globalisation. There's mile after dreary mile of box-like factories making affordable clothes, toys and electronic goods for Western countries.

One out of every three pairs of shoes in the world is made here. But this global workshop runs on cheap labour and low safety standards."

"Inside China's sweatshops, Lucy Ash, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/ from_our_own_correspondent/2139401.stm."

That's us folks, that's you and me. But heck, this isn't what I'm thinking about when I see a flyer advertising the next blow-out sale at WalMart. All I see is that shiny white plastic, those crisp new laces, the sweet brown hoodie. . .and all at a low, low price!

I can't prove this, but sometimes I wonder who loses out when those sales happen, is good old father Walmart just taking one for the team? Or has little Hua-Ling just received another cut off her already meager wage. Of course, I'd be naive to say that Walmart is the only one to blame here. It's companies like Zellers, Canadian Tire, Costco, Loblaws. . .the list can go on for as long as you want it to.

And so here I am, newly married, living paycheck to paycheck. I've got bills, car insurance, and rent to pay for just like any other family. But there's something I've conveniently overlooked. . .I also have a Christian duty to love my neighbor. The one next door AND the one next continent.

I am to hate sin, and love God, this is my duty as a Christian. . .but am I not also, as much as depends on me, to love justice and to hate injustice in all its forms. Yeah you know what? Sometimes I get tired of buying my clothes second hand, I don't always love paying extra for a fair-trade cup of coffee but in the end, its really not about us is it, its about others, about viewing them as better than ourselves.

If I'm pointing a finger at anyone its at myself, there are still so many ways in which materialism still has me "pressed deep in the palms of greed." But for every change there is a beginning, and mine starts here.

Wrting to Air

2009-01-07T17:04:00.000-08:00

The title refers to what I am currently doing, that is, writing a blog that nobody will read. It's quite sad actually, the whole blog phenomina seems to have been relegated to the broom closet, along with Timmy the broken faced marionette, and an old bug collection containing thirteen grasshoppers, two houseflies, and strip of old pantyhouse that somewhat resembles a shriveled worm.

I've been writing a bit lately, nothing profound of course. Last night I had this image of a kind of a grassy meadow, the sky is impossibly blue and a strong wind is blowing the grasses in every direction. Anyway at one point, these two boys just happen to be walking in the same meadow and end up crossing paths. The one boy seems to be pulling along a lion on a leash, it's teeth have been smashed out, its claws removed and at least one of its forearms appear to be broken. To top it all off the boy has seen fit to put a yellow bonnet on the poor lion's head which sits kind of crooked. It's laughable really, but also sad because lions should never be treated this way.

The other boy however is following his lion. It's golden mane blows in the wind and it's eyes are like spheres of awful fire, burning, exposing. It covers acres and acres of meadow in a single step and when it lifts it's head to roar, the wind stops and every blade of grass stands still. Before I know what's happening the second lion has swallowed up the first, bonnet and all.

This is where the image ends and I really don't plan on making it anything other than what it is.

The great thing about writing to air is that it will never critique you. . .

2008-07-28T19:19:00.000-07:00

There once was a squirrel named timmy. Timmy had one leg so he was generally the subject of much mocking by the greater population of squirrels. Sometimes he would stare longingly into the canopy of trees overhead while his friends jumped recklessly from limb to limb. Every so often, when the mood took them, they would sing silly songs about him from above, like this one:

Timmy, Timmy, please jump around,
Timmy, Timmy come off the ground.

What the squirrels did not know however, was that what he lacked in limbs, little timmy made up for in magical powers. Typically, he used his powers only for good, but occasionally, when his squirrel friends began to be especially annoying, he would rain down firery hail upon them, effectively hampering their ability to sing abrasive little songs.

So kids, the moral of the story is simple: Don't make fun of people less fortunate than you because chances are, there's some hidden ability you've overlooked.

new things that are new

2008-07-25T11:06:00.000-07:00

Current book I am reading:

St.Francis of Assisi-G.K.Chesterton
Pagan Christianity-Frank Viola and George Barna
Systematic Theology-Wayne Grudem

Current tracks I would like to spin:

Tournament of Hearts-The Weakerthans
Courtship Dating-Crystal Castles (Give me some of that sweet Atari 5200 sound chip goodness)
Ahead by a Century-Tragically Hip (?!)

Current animals I would like to tame:

The Bearcat
Clowns

The clowns would ride the Bearcat and then I would sit on the clowns shoulders enforcing laws put in place designed to frustrate the masses. I would be intimidating and people would call me by a neo-barbarian name --like Andrew the Intimidator.

I also saw Batman a few days ago, and yes it's worth all the hype. Go and see it and tell the ticket man he was right.

go in peace traveler

Before you ask, yes this is a book, someone other than me should read it.

2008-07-10T09:45:00.000-07:00

My wallet was stolen yesterday, as well as my cellphone. So today consists of me sifting through reams of paperwork trying to get everything back in order, it would be enjoyable except for the fact that I hate paperwork, and sifting, so together they form a nightmare team and it makes me want to run.

Oh and hey, the worst part is they also took my beloved world famous satchel,the one with the buckles and a long-suffering temperament. Good thing I trained it in the ways of draping. What? You've never heard of it? Draping is the ability to drape oneself over the face of a marauder when feeling threatened. It's typically studied by individuals unable to cope with the rigors of an actual martial art since the only real move you have to learn is to fling your body in the general direction of a target's face.

In other news, me and Mel are almost married, it seems we've hit somewhat of a time barrier however since we've been telling each other 'two months' for roughly two months. The realization of what it is we're doing is slowly starting to sink in, it's exciting, but also terrifying. .you ever take on a project where, after you've taken it on, you suddenly realize the project was a heck of a lot bigger then you thought it was. But our marriage isn't a project.

I'm also wearing a new shirt which, I'm told, has magical properties. I'm skeptical.

ben

2008-06-09T18:01:00.000-07:00

I was thankful today. No, not an especially dramatic thing to say, but nonetheless it was how I felt today.

Yes, it was hot, but I could feel the heat, and I could taste the moisture in the air around me (not unlike sucking on a damp dishcloth.) I was not confined to a bed with my only means of escape to look longingly out of a window. I could get up and walk around, feel rain cascading down around me, laugh and talk with people. These are not earth-shattering things folks, but how often do you simply thank God for them?

A man came into our greenhouse today who could barely stand because his body was racked with so much pain. He had stomach cancer and probably only a few days left to live, it was probably the last time he would ever see or smell a flower. I watched him as he pulled away and out of the parking lot and suddenly I saw myself hunched over the dashboard, old and decrepit, counting every breath as precious as gold.

And one day all of us, young and old, rich or poor, will, in one way or another, be faced with a similar situation. Whether through accident, sickness, or the slow decay of time, the green pastures of life and health will someday fade behind, and the dark sea of death will suddenly be there before us, mocking our transitory existence.

Some people see this thinking as morbid, and maybe it is. . .but it is also true, and perhaps our repulsion of it is due in part to our defiance of its reality.

So everybody, put down your blackberry, turn off the T.V, shut off the music, turn on your mind. These are the things that really matter.

"A little less air horn, banshee, hurricane
That shake up the marble that stirs in my brain
That fires all the neurons that make me feel pain. . .
A little less noise please ." -Emmet

News and such.

2008-04-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

Ahem. . my apologies for the previous post, it appears my sanity has been restored however with the waning of the gibbus. Well, restored as its ever going to be.

In recent news. . a new job! I will be working at Johnston's Greenhouse for the next two months so everybody should come by and be amazed at my thorough ignorance of general plant life. I know for certain they need the occasional watering, and people keep throwing around the word "dirt," so you may need some of that also.

You know what a neat thing means? You go right up to some plant and take all the dead things off, this helps the plant grow because all that extra energy the plant was spending trying to keep the dead thing alive can now be used to encourage the non-dead part of the plant. Yay!

Marriage seems right around the corner, and I suppose it is in marriage terms. .4 months! We'll hopefully be giving updates and such on our blogs and word of mouth, we're really still not sure about alot of things but that's ok because it's only a day and we love each other and whatever happens will probably be forgotten by most people the next week anyway. .so there.

In more boring news I recently discovered a gaping black hole in one of my teeth. . .and by discovered I mean a large portion of it fell out on my dinner plate whilst I was eating chicken. Anyway, to make a short story even shorter, the man with the white coat cast a freezing spell on my gums and half an hour later the gaping hole is replaced with some kind of epoxy of caulking or whatever the heck it is the kids are using these days and voila! New teeth!

Oh and I also finished two books lately so that was the color of awesome. "The Law of Dreams" and "Lauchlin of the Bad Heart," both good reads aside from the smattering of amazingly unnecessary sex.

So yeah, why don't you roll your hamster wheel down to Johnston's after work, I'm sure I'd be glad to see you. But you can leave your little dog at home, just be sure to leave some fresh water and a pickle in case he gets hungry.

hail the breaking dawn,

ben

Here's something for all you adventurous types to try at home!

2008-04-01T18:47:00.000-07:00

Me and Mel have been doing a creative art/writing course for that past five weeks, it has been good to slap the ol' muse awake again. .I swear that guy is overpaid.

I went for a good walk this morning in Jackson Park. . .I've discovered its one my 'thin places.' The idea of a 'thin place' dates back to the Celts who talked about certain places where the divide between earth and heaven seemed thinner. . .a places where one finds it somehow easier to connects with God. You don't have to agree with me, but you should know I will fight you if you choose not to.

And hey I'm picking up the guitar again too eh? It's hard because I haven't practiced in awhile and, consequently, the tips of my fingers have reached a consistancy not unlike that of marshmallows. . .funny word eh? Marsh-mallows. It's like if you were just wading through a marsh and then saw a mallow sitting on a lily-pad. . .and then you combined them to make an above average treat! And what is a mallow?! The world is a mystery waiting to unfold!

So I've been acting oddly lately, which isn't a great surprise. .except some people have noticed and its starting to be frightening. Someone suggested it was perhaps due to a waning gibbus moon. .but I'm inclined to not believe in fables like moons and gibbons. Maybe I'm sick. Perhaps I'm a were-wolf. Were-wolves are wierd because they're people and wolves combined. I don't believe in were-wolves either. . .but I do believe in gardens.

I'm going to bed.

2008-02-21T10:15:00.001-08:00

My face is hot. I can't hear. I can't stop coughing.

Yes indeed, it's that time of year again. You know that time around mid February when, just as you are lamenting the unseasonably cold temperatures, a nice big cold appears out of nowhere to wrap it's snot-laden arms around you. Anyhow I'm trying to drink lots of Coke and am sleeping with a fan blowing directly on my face so I should be up and running again before you know it. Literally, you'll just be sitting there writing in your journal one day and suddenly I'll just be in your face up and running all around your desk.

I read the hobbit a few days ago from cover to cover. What a crazy story. There's this random little man named Bilbo Baggins and he just hooks up with some dwarves and a wizard and they all want to go to this mountain and kill some dragon and take all it's gold and treasure. I know it doesn't sound exciting but it actually is and I finished the entire thing in one day. So there. Read it because maybe after you do you'll be inspired to kill dragons, and any book that inspires that can't be all bad.

You know what feels really good? New socks. And you appreciate them all the more when you've been attempting to use only one pair for several weeks on end and then finally they become so crusty and hard that you really feel like less of a person for wearing them. But they're kind of cool when they're like that because you can mold them into funny shapes like a boat or a tiger.

Anyhow, some parting words from my friend kid koala on what mud was used for in those days.

"So what did you use mud for in those days?"

"Ahh, mud was used to make the sound of a gladiator. .falling. .when a lion knocked him down."

" So what, you would just throw some mud?"

"Throw some mud yeah and it would make the sound of him and then ah, for the various weight of gladiators you would use various size muds. I also used to stick mud in people's heads and then punch them and that was a good soft sound, it sounded like a bag of bricks falling of a. .car."

2008-01-24T11:36:00.000-08:00

"There is a seperation between church and neighborhood. And hypocrisy--talk without action--plays a part in this divide.

I have spent my life living and working in the urba centers of Philadelphia and Atlanta. In these communities, you will find an abundance of churches. In my current Atlanta neighborhood there is one on every block. then you consider that on the very same street corner reign drug activity and prostitution. It is not out of the ordinary to watch drug deals on the church steps. The institution has made its own quiet unspoken deal with the vendors who make their living there. People who most need church are sitting outside, waiting to feel worthy enough to come in.

For the young who grew up on the streets, it's the age-old story: the drug kingpin knows their name, and the pastor does not. The teachers at school don't think they can learn, but the conquer the "street classes" just fine. The street culture always pursues and welcomes the,, but the doors of the church are open only on Sunday. The church wants them neat and clean, but the street takes them as they are."

-Leroy Barber
President, Mission Year

Boring, irrelevant, insincere, hypocrytical. Jesus, we have turned your bride into a whore that we sell on the street-corners, in the pulpit, in the pews.

We are holy, they are not, we are right, they are wrong. We do not want their lives soiling out garments. We want our nice houses, our nice cars, our nice lives. Nice church people that the world can safely ignore.

My God, what have we done to your church.

Part 1

2008-01-16T10:31:00.000-08:00

Hello folks,

How are ya'll doing out there in this big ol' crazy world. Everyone have a good Christmas? New Years? Pantry Party? A pantry party is where you invite a bunch of people over and everyone chooses some gross old food that's been forgotten in the pantry. .then you eat it. .and then it's a party.

You know what I really love? I really love my church,(when I'm able to go.) I'm not trying to boast here(actually I am), but sometimes it seems like all of the really solid, sincere people in Peterborough and surrounding area have just come out of the woodwork to be together for a few days a week (I'm sure many of you feel the same about your churches.) People who love God. People who love God's word. People who love people. People with purpose.

But you know what I long for sometimes? Not for better worship, not for better programs, not for more "relevant" sermons. . but for real community. Sometimes I find it too bad that the western church has so many western values associated with it. . I'm talking here about the incredible individualism that prevades our society. Why is it that we see meeting together 2 or 3 times a week is sufficient. Why have we grown so far from the communitas that we see in the first few chapters of Acts.

Here's a list of some of the things I've found in the second chapter of Acts.

The fellowship of believers were:

1.Filled with awe.
2.Together and had everything in common.
3.Selling their own goods and distributing as people had need.
4.Meeting together every day.
5.Eating together with glad and sincere hearts.
6.Praising God.
7.Being added to daily.

People saw what love this little community had for each other, love that overflowed from a deep love of God and spilled out over the streets of Jerusalem. The people knew they were Christians by their love.

Anyways, this was more just some thoughts to ponder more than anything else. I hope to be exploring some different communities in my next blog.

godspeed good people,
ben

2008-01-06T10:20:00.000-08:00

I don't like facebook anymore so I deleted my account. If you want to talk to me you'll have to find me in real life.

merry christmas children

2007-12-23T10:18:00.000-08:00

I have two words for you:

GIVE ME ALL YOUR SHORT PANTS!!

Your friend and brother,

ben the kid

2007-12-16T06:31:00.000-08:00

"I may not want to be associated with much that passes today for Christianity; nevertheless I am part of it, even when I rebel because being Christian is becoming more and more a do-it-yourself activity. I rebel when the Church feels that it has to succeed. My theology of failure is incomprehensible to many, intolerable to some. I am saddened when the very air I breathe throughout Christendom is Pelagian; the Church can take care of all the ills of the world as long as we are morally virtous and politically liberal. Not that I am against either virtue or liberalism! But I watch in horror as a great liberal, passionately interested in the cause of--shall we say-- the leper, very carefully avoids speaking to the leper in his path, in order to get on with the cause. And it occurs to me that Jesus couldn't have cared less about the cause of the leper or the rights of the leper. But when there was a aleper in his path he did not walk around him, like the priest walking on the opposite side of the road from the man set upon by thieves, on his way to Jerusalem to preach his favorite sermon on compassion. Jesus stopped. And healed. And loved. Not causes, but people. . .the people who make up causes are often too revolting to be loved easily, but the Spirit will give us the strength to love the unlovable if we ask for help."

-Madeline L'Engle, The Irrational Season

I did something today. .

2007-12-01T19:44:00.000-08:00

. .that I thought I would never do in my lifetime. I walked out of a restaurant. Ok, so now I know most of you will be thinking, ok, sure, sowhat's the big deal.

Well, I had just finished a long shift at Brock Mission and I had become ravegely hungry ( I just made that word up now.) I had neglected to eat breakfast, and lunch, and it was now 3:00 and I was ready to eat the next thing that landed on my shoulder. Melissa can vouch for the fact that I become I snarling beast when I 'm hungry, which is why she now carries a satchel full of granola around with her when I'm around.

So, shift finished, I decided to saunter down to my favorite greek place for a souvlaki and here's what happened.

I walk into the restaurant and the friendly old greek man who runs the place was decidedly unfriendly today, his crooked hairpiece glared at me evil-ly from accross the room.

Old Greek Man(clearing a large pile of dishes from a table): Can I help you?
Me (unsure): Hi, um are you guys still open?
Old Greek Man(snarly): Well, what does it look like?
Me: Ok, well, I just wanted to order somethi. .
Old Greek Man: Well fine then why didn't you say so.

I was so flabbergastered that, without thinking (well, without thinking well), I turned around and, being quite annoyed walked right back out the door and, just to spite him and his nefarious hairpiece, decided to get a pita next door. Well after I came back out and began to walk towards my car I began to hear heavy breathing and the flopping of a gray hairpiece coming up fast behind me. . .guess who. THE OLD GREEK MAN!

So after he caught up to me he asked if I wanted to tell him what had just happened and I smartly retorted "well, I was hoping you could tell me." And I told him he was rude and he asked how he had been rude and I told him. I guess he tried to explain or something but I just ended up saying "thanks" for some reason and kept on walking.

"All right, sweet vindication" I thought to myself as I got in my car, "that's what you get for being rude to me." At the time I felt good, you know, justified in my actions. But as I continued to think about it however, a very uncomfortable feeling began to swell up inside me until I finally realized what it was. Who the heck am I to ever justify myself. Who am I to ever think that I deserve respect? Do I somehow think that maybe, somewhere along the way, I've earned it?

Maybe Greek Man was just having a bad day, maybe I was just irritated because I was hungry, whatever the reason I now feel like the biggest jerk in the world because you know what? There was a Man, a Man I profess to follow, who DID deserve respect, who COULD have justified himself in the face of blatant accusations. But you know what? He didn't. He didn't stand up for His rights because He wanted to teach us all a lesson about what true humility looks like.

I don't deserve respect, I don't deserve anything. .no unnecessary wallowing here. .just the simple truth. I deserve death, hell. .a heck of a lot more than a rude greek man with bad hair.

So, all that being said, I'll probably still go back to his place for a souvlaki sometime. . .only this time, -1 ego.

together with you all,
ben

The consequence of coffee

2007-11-26T19:20:00.001-08:00

Dear diary,

Today was neat! I made my own rice with own abilities! And you know what diary? It was just crazy talk because yesterday I tried to make rice and then when I finally took a bite it felt like I had just poured some peat-moss in warm water. But anyway last night I was out under the stars lying on this orange tarp I found when, out of nowhere, I saw a shooting star! Suddenly I remembered what lil' Rodney the coon-hound had told me the day before and it went something like, "if you see a shooting star, you can make a freaking wish!"

So anyway my freaking wish was that I could make rice taste less like pine bark and more like something that people enjoy eating. I hardly slept a wink! I woke up at 5:30 the next morning and rushed to my bag of rice and all at once it was like the rice-god had filled my heart with super-natural rice making powers! Water and rice was just flying everywhere and I ended up inviting lil' Rodney to join in the fun. We laughed and ate rice all day and it was just a good-old fashioned time.

Rodney always carries around this plastic bag that he sometimes calls 'the bag full of joy.' I always wonder why he calls it that because nothing he's ever taken out of that bag makes me very joyful. . .a dead kitten, a broken picture frame, the tread off an old tire. Anyway he says they're ingredients for potions, but I probably wouldn't want to drink a poition that had a kitten and a tire in it. Oh well, he's a genius so I trust him.

Time for bed! I left a nice picture for you to look at!

2007-11-19T21:54:00.000-08:00

It's 1:00 in the morning right now but I don't feel like sleeping. If it wasn't raining so hard I might saunter down to the ol' sauce and giminy for a nightcap, however it's raining hard, so I'll sit inside and pretend not to think about it. Is it cold? I feel cold.

For dinner tonight I indulged in a bag of all-dressed chips with sour cream and then washed it all down with a glass of sherry. Someday I'll write my own book and it will be called "canada's food guide to an early grave," I won't tell you much except for the fact that it's going to involve a lot less milk and vegetables and a lot more pepsi and pork rinds. Oh, and gravy, lots of gravy. . on everything.

What I'd really like to see over the next few years is a dramatic decrease in organic, locally grown produce and a dramatic increase in the amount of corporate, artifically manufactured produce. That way the executives stay rich and happy and we, the peasantry, can continue in our canada's food guide to blissful delusions. . . it's foolproof people, everybody frikin' wins.

I went shopping for some grocery action today and, of course, there was another whiny child dragging his hapless father through the food aisles. It wasn't too bad though, I mean, all I had to do was drive a bag of marshmellows down my ears while this poor man gets to enjoy back-to-back episodes of "the best of tortured animals," every waking moment of his life.

Does anyone have a good recipie for stew? I feel like a good stew.

The day a cake was made. .

2007-11-18T07:52:00.000-08:00

With great skill and a dexterity of +12, Bryn Truelove conjured a cake of spice.

My Christmas Music Wish List

2007-11-08T20:12:00.000-08:00

There's just so many to choose from. . .

Alias: Collected Remixes, Muted
Odd Nosdam: Level Live Wires
13 & God: 13 & God
Confessions of a Burning Man (Soundtrack)
Electric Skychurch: Sonic Diary
Welder: Vines and Stream
The Free Design: The Now Sound Redesigned
Thee More Shallow

He has broken through.

2007-11-02T10:35:00.000-07:00

I saw God today,
but I did not expect to see Him there.

He was in the smile of a little girl,
and the conversation with a friend.
I saw Him in laughter,
but also in tears.

He was in the wind,
and the soft blue of a cloudless sky.
I saw Him in the swirls of frost on my car window,
and the velvety brown of my coffee as I stirred it.

He was in a brush stroke,
and the voice that rang as clear as crystal.
I felt Him in the warmth of my sweater,
I heard Him in the song of a sparrow.

Let it be known to all.
My God has broken through the purgatory of four walls,
and His colors fill every corner of the universe.

World, you cannot ignore Him,
For He is you and me.
He is everywhere and everything.

". .the whole idea of St.Francis revolved around the idea of a new supernatural light on natural things, which meant the ultimate recovery not the ultimate refusal of natural things."

-G.K. Chesterton

Updating quantum frequency

2007-10-13T06:18:00.000-07:00

So anyways, it's 9:20 in the morning and I was just sitting here watching foreign film trailers and then suddenly I realized that, hey, I need to be updating everyone on my present status. For any one of you reading this blog for the first time I'll just tell you straight up that I lead the most interesting life out of most people.

Sometimes I'll go out to dinner or watch a movie and then maybe the next day I'll get a haircut and a white t-shirt on which I might write in black marker "this t-shirt means a glass of water," and then everyone will ask me what it means and I'll just smile and shake their hand and give them a free pen so they can draw me nice pictures.

Then after that I might put on some socks and shuffle around the kitchen for five minutes or maybe more then seven minutes. We have this crazy black and white kitchen floor that doesn't give a crap and I sometimes pretend that I'm playing checkers on it where I'm the red player and this other guy with a windbreaker is my opponent and then he always let's me win because I'm actually really bad at games involving boards and plastic.

Sometimes I like to read books about worlds that are hard to get to. One of my favorite writing friends tells about this place you can get to if you sail to the end of a glass sea covered with white flowers. The animals can talk and you can breathe under water because the laws that run this world don't apply. I want to go there someday if someone will lend me a boat and some oars, . . .I like the idea of sailing through white flowers.

Anyway if someone wants to bake me biscuits I'd probably warm them up for fifteen seconds and then put some butter on them, maybe some tea, maybe no tea.

As you can see I lead a very busy life so I have to go now,

-ben

-ben

in time of war

2007-10-10T21:55:00.000-07:00

Fighting, screaming, breaking, smashing,
doing it over again.
With each thrown fist,
it feels like a hundred years have past.

When it gets too big it overcomes,
forcing me to bow to poison pleasures,
to sickly sweets, to cursed dainties,
to me.

Tears and apologies bounce like rain,
off armor forged of malice.
Vows..and..
more vows..
..and more vows,
earn laughings and scornings and then,
surrender.

Lifting eyes to heaven,
I call down crimson fire,
to consume, to banish,
to rend the endless hordes.

Suddenly, in front, behind, beside,
a burning knight..
"I fight for you my Son!"
Laughing and shouting,
He goes forth to conquer.

Charging into war He goes,
with swingings and cleavings,
with sword and axe and steel.
Crafted from Spirit,
their bite hews demon scum.

From behind the frey,
I lift my arms and sing,
"THE LORD OF HOSTS HIS NAME,
FROM AGE TO AGE THE SAME,
AND HE MUST WIN THE BATTLE."

Why ontario works does more harm than good.

2007-09-23T09:09:00.000-07:00

This will more than likely be a rather tedious article for most of you reading, but as a staff at the local men's mission, it's something that seems to be on my mind quite a bit lately.

For those who don't know what Ontario Works is, it's basically a program set up to provide income and employment assistance for people who are in temporary financial need. Unfortunately, I am discovering that the system as it stands now is flawed.

As it stands, we have about 30 men staying in our program, they are allowed to stay for a maximum of 42 days after which they may apply for an extension. Many of them are either on Ontario Works which guarantees them around 500$ a month (which is not all that much, but consider it also provides first and last month's rent and may also provide drug and dental coverage, eyeglasses, hearing aids, and community and employment start-up benefits,) or ODSP which is a program designed to help people with disabilities.

What ends up happening however is that, on average, there are about 20 young, very capable men, who hang around the mission all week, watching movies and eating. The majority of them ignore the facilities designed to help because there is little to no accountability and instead spend their entire cheque on booze and/or drugs, then proceed to complain they don't have enough to live on. (I'm not including every one of our residents in this statement.)

The people who really need it (single mothers and people with disabilities) don't get enough to survive on and the people who are physically able to work and survive in society get free money. On October 10th, my vote will be going to the party which gives some solid strategies in batteling poverty other than "just throw more money at it." We have created a system which enables rather than eradicates poverty.

One of the guy's who used to stay here has just started a buisness of sorts. .he orders little rocks and then makes jewelry out of them and sells them around town. No, it's nothing groundbreaking to be sure, but I always buy something from him because I know he's making an effort, which is alot more than I can say for most around here.

Cynical and jaded? Yes. Despairing? Well, not yet.

New stuff and things

2007-09-16T04:44:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody,

Yes it's a new blog dedicated to the children. . read it well. Lots of interesting blogs and discussions happening lately which I've been enjoying, learning and growing from, things I have been realizing:

1.
I should cease condeming particular genres of music (except country. .it's always open season on country.) The metal that Bolton listens to is no more or less godless than the ambient/electronica I prefer. .there, now we can lower taxes and sing merry songs amongst the peasentry.

2.
If being a fundamental Christian means affirming the exclusivity of Christ, the authority of Scripture and the sovereignty of the pope (just kidding) than I want to be one, no matter how unpopular that might be.

I've also just moved into a house with four other guys which, despite it's challenges, will prove to be good for me. I tend to be somewhat reclusive by nature. .I'd probably make an excellent hobbit. .but anyhow, seems like there's some solid (if not insane) people that I look forward to living with for the next while. If you've got some spare time why don't you drop on by for a pint and a scone, chances are I'd be glad to talk with you.

That seems to be it for now, see you soon.

ben

This ones for all you nerds out there. .

2007-08-30T11:23:00.000-07:00

Ok so anyone of the female persuasion can probably just tune out starting now because guess what this weeks top 5 is going to be. .that's right. .computer games. Ooooo, and the crowd grows. . .rather silent.

So here we go folks, this weeks top 5 PC games, love 'em or leave 'em:

#5 Age of Mythology. .Microsoft.

Okay, so this wasn't my favorite game of all time, but I thought the ability to send your favorite monsters and gods into battle was kinda awesome. Wield giants, manticores, valkyries, and cyclopses along with an amazing array of god powers and go decimate your foe. Neat variety of units, some very cool graphic such as meteor, all in all, a good time.

#4 Diablo. .Blizzard.

Ever wonder why that danged Diablo never seems to fall from it's 49.99 price tag? Probably beacuse it's still one of the most rocking games out there. Choose a character from a Necromancer to an Amazon and hack and slash your way through countless waves of enemies to Baal himself. Diablo has alot of neat aspects to it including the ability to insert gems into weapons and armor for increased damage, and, of course, The Horadric Cube which gave you the ability to make your own equipment entirely (Wirt's leg does have a purpose folks.)

#3 Baldurs Gate. .Bioware.

A game way ahead of its time. The first RPG where you really felt that the decisions you made in the game actually mattered to the fate of your character, there's enough spells, weapons, characters and quests to make even the most avid video gamer busy for awhile. Run a thieves guild or a mage sphere, solve crimes, slay vampires. .it's all here folks and I highly urge you go out and buy the series.

#2 Thief 2: The Metal Age. .Looking Glass Studios.

So I really had to debate whether to put this first or not as this is, without a doubt, the most underated game of all time. For me, it was such a welcome relief to know that First Person Shooters were not the only option available for stealth-mongers such as myself. In Thief 2, you play the part of Garret, a master thief and victory comes, not be obliterating the foe, but by outwitting him with stealth and guile. Amazing array of thief tools, amazing story line, amazingly detailed levels (right down to the pictures on the wall), amazing character developement. Highly recommended.

And now. .for the first place winner. .

#1 Age of Empires 2. . Microsoft.

Without a doubt one of the best RTS games out there. For individuals with the unhappy condition of never having played this game, you play the part of a king and have the option of ruling any number of medevil empires from the Goths to the Celts. Raise an army, research technologies and go forth to crush your foe! This game occupied the better half of 6 years because of it's amazing replayability factor. .some guys were Starcrafters, for me, it was always AOE II.

Others with honorable mention include:

Warcraft 3, Fallout, and Red Alert:Tiberian Sun.

Leave your favorites,

ben

In the mall.

2007-08-25T12:06:00.000-07:00

So hey everybody, how are all your grandmothers?

I went down to the mall today to get a sub, because, quite frankly, I didn't have the bo-diddly to go out and get all the ingredients and make one. Anyhow, whilst engaged in eating, I looked around the food court and discovered several things that are, most likely, common knowledge to the general populace , but I've only just picked up now.

1. 80% of young girls dress like whores.

Okay so I made that statistic up, but you get the general idea. Honestly though, I don't so much blame them as I do the media that surrounds them. I believe we've gotten to the point in our culture where we are witnessing the obliteration of childhood, a.k.a,young girls are forced to look a certain way in order to be accepted by their peers. And guess what people, guess who's setting the example for them. .yup. .mothers. .mothers who dress like whores.

I think all young girls should run down to their local video store right now and pick up a copy of "Bridge to Terebithia" (or better yet, read the book,) and then watch it, and pay close attention to the character Leslie. After your done, instead of going to the mall to shop for clothes, go into your backyard and build a treefort and then pretend you're a queen and the squirrels are viking raiders (or raggedy-annes or whatever.) Then go read the Velvetine Rabbit. Then pretend you're a crayfish or a seal or something (use your imagination) and go rummage about in the creek with a stick.

2. Old men DO laugh.

So while I was sitting there eating, I suddenly heard a kind of shout coming from, I kid you not, ten feet away from me. I looked towards the noise and there was this old guy, probably around 70, just killing himself laughing at something his friend said. So there he was, face as red as can be, tears rolling down his cheeks, and I thought to myself. .gee. .I hope I can be like that when I'm as old as him.

And, of course, what I'm going to say now might sound offensive. .and that might be because it is. .but I'll say it anyway. Old people tend to complain alot. There I've said it, I take cash and debit, don't stab me with a wooden stake or I'll sue the pants of your housecat. That is why it was so good to see this jolly old man busting a gut over some randomness and I pray to God that he will help me to age with even a remnant of humor and joy. .but hopefully more.

Well, actually, that was all I came up with. .but hopefully we'll start seeing some more imginative young women and happier old people because of it.

Feel free to rant,

ben

2007-08-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

". . .we have insulated ourselves from miracles. We no longer live with such reckless faith that we need them. There is rarely room for the transcendent in our lives. If we get sick, we go to a doctor. If we need food, we go to a store and buy it. We have elminated the need for miracles.

If we had enough faith to depend on God like the lilies and the sparrows do, we would see miracles."

-Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution

Soooo, I would say this basically describes most of our lives, and, well, it's rather unfortunate really. . you ever think to yourself, what if Jesus really did mean it when he told us to leave everything and follow him? You ever wonder if it was because he knew that's when we would see His power most at work in our lives?

I don't know folks, scary stuff. . .

together with you,

ben

So this is basically just me with a gnome on my shoulder, you know, just chillin' with his wheelbarrow. . I'm a little bit peeved as you can probably tell.

New Things

2007-08-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

So nothing much to report here except:

1: I just bought a DVD about St. Francis of Assisi, despite it's ghetto cover I am looking looking forward to watching it.

2. It's about 3:30 and I am freakishly nervous about my first real shift at Black Honey in half an hour.

3.I am officially moving out of the homestead at the end of August.

4. I decided wearing pants today was a good option.

Pray for me,
ben

I'm a hobo. .and proud of it.

2007-08-13T12:04:00.001-07:00

"So where are you working now? "

Isn't that the question that everyone seems to be asking nowadays? Why is that? Well, among many reasons it's because, in this culture more than any, we are defined by our jobs. And who knows what the next question will be. . .oh, and how much do you make working there? Yes indeed people, at home, at church, among friends, make no doubt about it, work defines who you are and how people will think of you.

I've been talking to several people over the last while, all of who seem to have big plans for the future, lots of schooling, lots of good grades, and of course, lots of money (though they don't say that part.) Now don't get me wrong, I am super glad for these people and wish them all the best, but now more than ever I'm realizing that all of it really doesn't matter as much as we think it does.

I always find it amusing when I tell people that instead of taking more shifts at a higher paying job, I've decided to take more shifts at the lower paying job. I guarantee every time they will begin to shake their heads and I can tell it is taking everything in them to hold back a. . ."but why?!"

The reality is people, I don't really care whether I ever advance in my career or take another day of schooling in my life. What? But how will you pay your mortage? How will you afford a wedding? How will you make payments on your lexus and inground pool? Well, to be honest, I can't even express to you now how little all of these things mean to me.

I'm not lazy in case your wondering, I actually work three jobs. However, as much as I enjoy working in those places, I also like to be able to go for walks, listen to music, read a book or go out for coffee with a friend. Ultimately, it makes my very happy to know that when I see God, he will not ask to see my credentials, my g.p.a., or my employee list. He won't care how many suit jackets I own or whether I had a substantial RSP saved up. .no. .with food and clothing I will be content.

Sick of trying to be on top? Trying to prove yourself? Trying to make alot of money? Start pursuing things that really matter. . because where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

be happy with little,
ben

We interrupt this program. .

2007-08-05T06:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry everybody, I know you were looking forward to the second part of my story (and if you weren't, I'd prefer it if we didn't see each other anymore) but I found myself struggling to write what I felt, sometimes there just isn't enough words in the english vocabulary for what you want to say. Maybe someday, if I see God, He'll give me the words I need to finish my story.

Anyhow, in the meantime I promised everyone a list of stuff that rocks, I'll give that to you now so you can read it and get on with your quest. .because I'm telling you now that the king's going to be pretty frikin' mad if you don't come back with that ring.

So, here it is, the top 9-5 list of things that rock:

#9: Socks and sandals.

Seriously people, this is the most suave trend to hit the North Americas since. .laterhosen hit Denmark. .however, if you are going to partke in this fashion you must remember three imporant things: Firstly, you must at all times wear beige socks, secondly, they must be pulled up at least to you knees, lastly, hot and rich people will want to lend you their wallets if you wear socks and sandals frequently so make sure you don't betray their trust.

#8: Dinner with the Grandparents.

I love dinner with the grandparents because nowhere else can you find such a high concentration of dinner, joy, and creamed corn in one place. Ensure you engage in polite conversation, for example, things like weather, the price of tea, and punk rock are usually solid topics. Always keep in mind that you too will be old someday and I'm pretty sure that you might occasionally want to have dinner with things that aren't your cat.

#7: A tub of 2% Cottage Cheese.

Ok so you may laugh at this one but, let's be honest, what's the first thing you think about after having a fight with your girl/boyfriend. If your answer was something other than a tub of 2% Cottage Cheese you don't get a gold star and I'm selling your old dune buggy. Sure it has calories, but heck, what doesn't these days. . . call me up some time and we'll have some cottage cheese, ale, then maybe hit up a parade or something after.

#6: Rabbits.

Up until this year I confess I really haven't given rabbits the honor they deserve. Right now I want you to think about all the stories you've ever read in your life. . do you realize that the only really good ones had rabbits in them? Peter Rabbit, Alice in Wonderland, Whinnie the Pooh, Harvey, Pride and Prejudice, Donnie Darko (ok so that rabbit was demonic but the principle is still there.) If I ever get to name an island, I'm going to name it "The Land of Rabbiton," and everyone who goes there will get free toffee and a nice hat.

#5: Those mittens that have a rope tied to either end so you don't lose them.

Um. .there's really not much more I can say about this one.

And last and most:

#4: Melissa Bothwell

Without a doubt the most rocking girl this side of the orient. My sincerest apologies to all other guys out there but ya'll are stuck with second best.

And there you have my list of stuff that rocks folks, oh there's more, but these are among the top. Leave your own favorite things if you so desire.

Make sure the rice keeps flowing.

benI

2007-08-02T12:43:00.000-07:00

As I lay down to sleep, I dreamed a dream:

Part 1:

I dreamt I was at the end of a long line of people who appeared to be on horses, they were cloaked in some kind of white cloth that seemed to shine with an almost unatural glow . . indeed, I found I could only watch them for a few moments at a time for my eyes began to burn at their shimmering brilliance. I listened and suddenly there were thousands upon thousands of voices blended together in purest harmony singing some kind of song, the words of which I could not understand. I cannot now describe the tune to you but let me say that it welled up within me feelings of both overwhelming sorrow and wondrous joy.

I looked around and several things became immediately apparent; the first, I had no horse. The second, I looked down and realized with piercing shame that I was not dressed in white, or maybe it had been white at one time, I could not tell, in any case it was now nothing more than a patched and mottled rag, barely covering me at all. I cannot even begin to relay to you now the overwhelming embarrassment that I felt at that moment, I was more naked than I had ever been in my life.

At that time I looked up at the white riders again only to see them already far ahead of me, terror gripped me at the thought of being left behind so I began to run, as fast as my legs would take me. I ran and ran and ran, faster than I ever had before, my lungs burned and tears began to stream down my face as I looked up and realized I could never catch up with them, if I had ten thousand legs and as many years I would not be one step closer than where I had started.

Exhausted, bitter, and hopeless, I sat down on the road where the horses had passed and began to weep. There I was, alone and lost on a highway that stretched to eternity.

It's time. .

2007-07-28T09:52:00.000-07:00

It's time for what? You might ask, well, it's time I shared with you my list of pet peeves so next you know what not to do to annoy me. I've arranged them as a kind of question answer type format.

Problem:
People who neglect turn signals.

Solution:
When you feel like changing lanes, use your thumb or index finger to switch the knob on the side of your steering wheel, down if left, up if right.

Pending Consequence:
I'll slap you upside the head with a wet ferret and then reupholster your car with pressed denim.

Problem:
People who sell used clothing for full price.

Solution:
It's quite simple really, knock at least 50% off original price.

Pending Consequnce:
I'll summon a fire griffin to come and incinerate your store.

Problem:
Radio stations that state they play 'new music all the time' while in actuality they play the same thing day after day

Solution:
Do one of two things: Simply state the truth, 'we play the same crap over and over again,' or better yet, realize the majority of people like variety and shell out for more music.

Pending Consequnce:
I'll raise an army of wolves bread with chihuhuas to go forth and disembowel your dj's.

Problem:
People who interrupt conversations to talk on their cell-phones.

Solution:
You have one of two options: Firstly, scrap your stupid phone or, two, let your voicemail take it and you can wait 2 MINUTES to listen too it.

Pending Consequnce:
I'll perfect a venom and apply it to my blowdarts and then hide in the bush next to your house. .and then I'll shoot you in the foot.

And last and definately most:

Problem:
You have a whiny boy band, *ahem* hello kelly, the rocket summer.

Solution:
Get out and don't look back because no one wants to sit and listen to you complain about your girlfriend, your life, or even listen to your voice singing about anything at all. So anyway, stop blurring the lines between male and female and go get a real job.

Pending Consequnce:
I'll stuff filthy linen in your mouth and then mail you an 850 piece puzzle with one of them missing, so then you'll just be stuck with a 849 piece puzzle and no career.

Tune in next time to see "my list of stuff that rocks."

ben

After incinerating the clothing store, the fire griffin sets his sights on Bryce Avary of "The Rocket Summer."

The death of a friend. .

2007-07-19T01:25:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the actual blog content is not nearly as deep as the title makes it out to be, or maybe it is, I don't know, it means something to me anyway.

The friend is not a person, it's a company, a multi-billion dollar company. . . named McDonalds. Now, wnyone who knows anything about me knows that I love big macs, in face, on average, I'll eat 2-3 a week. I love the soft beef, the shredded lettuce, and, of course, the mystery sauce, which is the stuff of dreams (fat dreams.)

Anyhow, tonight, as I stood in line waiting for my food to be ready, I looked around. . and in one terrifying, yet strangely cleansing moment, I realized that it would be the last meal I would ever eat there. I realized that, based on the following reasons, McDonalds is actually everything I hate.

1.
Big Macs (the only thing I ever eat there) are extremely unhealthy especially over quantities of, oh. .one. A single big mac has 570 calories in it, over half of which can be attributed to fat. That's right folks, 32.5 grams of fat in one of those babies. . .feel those arteries clogging.

2.
I hate big corporations. And McDonalds is, without a doubt, the largest fast food chain in the world. It operates 31, 000 stores in over 110 countries with it's top executive netting almost 1.2 million a year. . .while their workers barely make minimum wage. Why do I hate big companies? To them I am just a face, a wallet, another consumer they can aim their advertisements at.

3.
This next reason is one that I struggle with personally and that's the fact that McDonalds represents an escape for me. I don't know what it is, but whenever I'm feeling down or depressed the first thing I think of is not, 'oh, why am I feeling this way' but 'oh, I need a big mac to feel better.' That way I just get fatter and my problems just get ignored

4.
They employ a freakish clown as their company mascot. I can't even tell you how many dream I've had that have ended up with me slaying Ronald McDonald. One minute I'll be flying a weasel with red shoes over some mountain and then, suddenly, I'm forcing a curly wig down the throat of this guy wearing yellow pants. Anyhow, now he won't haunt my thoughts anymore.

I guess that's pretty much it, feel free to add your likes or dislikes of McDonalds and then I'll send you a picture of a bird of your choice.

healthily yours,
ben

It's what you wanted for your birthday,

2007-06-27T13:40:00.000-07:00

So hey everybody,

Ok, so you know what I've realized. .blogging is old news. . that's not even a joke I made up. Seriously though, why TYPE out your life when you can just make a video of it and throw it up on youtube. Isn't that wierd? Isn't that technologically wonderful? Isn't that what you wanted to give Susan for her birthday?

Here's something else that's kind of sad. So I was watching TV today, which is not something I normally do, but it was so motheringly hot out I didn't know what else to do. Anyhow, there was this show called "Trial by Jury" where there's this chick that comes up and, unbeknownst to her, she's actually being judged on her physical appearance while she thinks she's having an interview. Isn't that wierd?

Before (Happy)

So, basically, these random people tell this person what is wrong with them, and how they can look sexier, and how they look like rat-butter. Then they have a week to help this person with their teeth, clothes, self-esteem, make-up, etc, then they come back on. .looking totally different. . and go on again, with an entirely different set of random people. But guess what? This time their all like "oh you look so wonderful, oh you could be a teacher, oh you have such nice teeth, oh your so hot now that you look like everyone else," (ok, I made that last one up.)

After (Sad)

Ok, so call me a fish, but half the time, I like them better before they get transformed into beyonce knowles. Sure she may have dressed a little frumpy, sure she had crooked teeth, but seriously, what the heck with our society? And what the heck with those girls who let themselves be judged by random people?

I love how Jesus loves frumpy, crooked people along with the hot, straight ones.

In other news, I'm going to Montreal tommorow, back to school in the fall, and back to the future in the. .future.

Do a kickflip for Jules Vern. . .
your friend,
ben

Untitled

2007-05-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

busy, busy, busy
all you little people,
with your little busy lives.

don't stop, don't talk,
just fidget on your phone,
just organize your life.

run away from calm,
run away from still,
don't think about how,
a hundred years from now,

your car will be rust,
your technology obselete,
and your position filled.

and you will just be,
a face on your child's mantle. .

. .with all the time in the world. .

Paintballing

2007-04-24T17:52:00.000-07:00

Here it is folks, the mercenary in all his fearsome pageantry, this was the first time I've been paintballing so I decided to wear a small vest instead of camo gear.

We had a fun time and I came away with just a few welts.

The Eccentrification of the World

2007-04-16T01:52:00.000-07:00

Hey again,

I know. . .two blogs in as many days? Unusual to be sure. However, this is not really a blog so much as it is a plug for another blog.

I want to share with all who don't know about them, a group of individuals who I don't really know, but have come to love more and more as I discover what it is they are trying to do, they're called the winking circle. They have traded in the skewed values of society for wierd, wonderful, creativity which is both contagious and just plain hilarious.

Tired of subdivisions, brand names, television and k-cars? Why not transform the boring condo, start making your own clothes, throw out your television, stencil your car? To many of us today associate normalcy with godliness.

I will leave you with one quote and you'll have to read the rest yourself...

"We are willing to play the fools in the decaying arena of consumer culture. We will drive hand painted cars and dance in public, we will make our own movies and love our enemies, we will laugh too much and weld 5ft forks onto our own bikes. We will live by the Wisdom of the Three Beans. We are willing to face the jeers and the ridicule of those who say it cannot be done. We are willing to be leaders in a world of followers. We cannot fail, because in undertaking the task of eccentrifying the world the process is the product. We will not regret having not lived at the end of our lives. " -The Winking Circle

Find thes rest of the article here:http://thewinkingcircle.com/eccent.htm

Redeem everything,
ben

2007-04-13T23:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, I just realized it's been almost two months since I last posted and I must confess that I'm hit with pangs of guilt whenever I visit blogs that get updated almost daily. I dunno, maybe they just have more to write about, maybe they're just more motivated. .meh. .more than likely I'm just lame. .that tends to be how most of my ambitions tend to meed their end.

Oh they'll struggle for awhile. . .my ambitions that is. . .but then, after awhile, they'll give a little quiver and maybe a tired squeak as the hard, cold, rubber of apathy stamps the last wheezing breath out of their fragile bodies.. .if anyone would like to adopt my ambitions, please let me know, as most tend to get aborted before conception anyway.

Actually, I have been thinking about quite a bit of stuff. Things like how little we actually need to survive, and how simplicity is just such a wonderful thought that I wish I knew how to apply more. Things like how God puts us in situations that we can't handle to show us how much we need Him. Oh and incidentally, I highly recommend 'Amazing Grace' to those who haven't watched it, anyone who doesn't come away inspired gets a spiked gauntet to the frontal lobe.

Also, I just started at Christian Horizons which is both terrifying and amazing at the same time. On the one hand, I bathe naked men (and this makes sleeping difficult) on the other hand, I continue to realize that there are some really awesome people that I, in the past, have been really scared to be around, but now even that is being broken down in me.

I love all of you and will send you goldfish if you give me your address,
ben

2007-02-17T20:05:00.000-08:00

. .you adulterous people, don't you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God.

Anyone ever reach that point in their life when you feel as if you are living solely for other people. What you wear, how you talk, the things you do, the parts of your personality you let show...all of these are done with that voice that rings constantly in the back of our minds "what are they thinking about me right now."

We live for laughs, admiration, respect...in other words, popularity; our culture is driven by the pursuit of it, our success in life is measured by it. I want to see a show of hands right now for all those who have felt like losers in particular crowds..or just a loser in general. This is the part where all you popular, charismatic people can stop reading..I speak now to the outcasts, the rejects, the morons, the shy people,

I want to say to you right now, and in doing so I also speak to myself, these two words that are probably the most important words that we will ever hear..stop trying. Just stop. Stop trying to dress right, talk right, be right, for other people because..and right now I speak from experience..you will crash and burn. Things might be all right for awhile, you can play the part, but it won't be too long before discouragement, frustration and hopelessness set in.

I could spend some time now to talk to you about some other people who were losers in the eyes of this world, you might even recognize their names..Moses, Joshua, Job, Isaiah, Ezekiel, John, Jesus..these are just a few of them, there are many more. Grab your Bible and read about these guys, "some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained in put in prison..they went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated."

Why? Well, I'll tell you why. It's because they stopped caring what everyone else thought about them and started caring about what God thought about them, they decided that popularity in the eyes of the majority really wasn't the worth the..happiness..of knowing that their creator actually cared for and loved them. Remember that He's the one we're going to face, and we're not going to be let in on the basis of how many friends we had while we lived here. He won't care if we're short, fat, sexy, outgoing, eloquent. . .He's going to judge what's inside you, He's going to judge your heart.

In conclusion, let's stop burning out trying to make other people happy, God has made us who we are on purpose and being anything other than that makes us exactly what this verse says.... adulterors and God-haters.

Peace ,

ben

Here's a picture

2007-02-14T09:35:00.000-08:00

2007-02-12T07:27:00.000-08:00

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Fill me with life anew,
That I may love what Thou dost love,
And do what Thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Until my heart is pure,
Until with Thee I will one will,
To do and to endure.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
Blend all my soul with Thine,
Until this earthly part of me
Glows with Thy fire divine.

Breathe on me, breath of God,
So shall I never die,
But live with Thee the perfect life
Of Thine eternity.

I would appreciate prayer now from all who happen on this blog.

ben

Pontifications on pressed ham

2007-01-01T09:19:00.000-08:00

I was just realizing what the human body can actually consume when desperate enough, this revelation came upon me as I found myself eating a pressed ham sandwich on a stale bun for lunch. .correction. .half a pressed ham sandwich. After the halfway point, thankfully reason (and indigestion) kicked in just in time to open my eyes to the fact that I was eating something that tasted like broiled gremlin femurs. . .sleep deprivation, combined with severe hunger pains drove me to this awful place.

How are ya'll out there. .everyone have a good Christmas? New Year? Cheese monkey? I got some nice things including an electric shaver, (for my face!) a license plate, (for my car!) and a bongo drum (for I don't know!)

So I was talking with Mel B awhile back and we were remarking how often backsliding in our spiritual life can be traced back to a lapse in the devotional life. We think we're just fine carrying on by ourselves and meanwhile, like the laodecians, we don't realize that without God, we are poor, blind, miserable, and naked. God help us to see our need of him.

Lata,
-the p cat (I am declaring this my nick name)

2006-12-24T18:52:00.000-08:00

Heh, I just realized I posted the same post three times in a row. .I'm a fool. .anyways I dealt with the situation appropriately (namely, deleting them.)

I've just decided to write this post to let you know about a man I've met at the Brock Mission whose name is Gary. Gary is a vegetarian and the proud father of 15 (?) children, his hobbies include standing on his head, hitchhiking, and eating leaves, roots and berries. He was just telling me how he loves to wish people well and find meaning in every conversation and that he's one of the very few people who actually like staying here.

Sometimes I just can't help thanking God that He brings people like this into my life, please pray for Gary and for many of the other guys here like him, pray that the Spirit would work in their hearts and guide them into truth.

And this was my Christmas prayer tonight: "Lord thank you for all the men you have brought here to Brock Mission. Thank you that Christmas is not about gifts, food, or even family; but Lord it's about you. . .coming and dying so that people like us who didn't deserve it could live forever. Amen

Merry Christmas Everyone,
Ben

2006-12-19T22:26:00.001-08:00

Hey everybody,

How's the world with all you folks, everyone full of the Christmas spirit yet? Anyone still sane after the 900th randition of "Santa baby, hurry down the chimney ta meeeee"? Poor souls everywhere are maxing out their credit cards in anticipation of the magic debt fairy who, though perhaps more unpopular, is no less real than Santa. Truly what a joyous time of year!

On a better note, want to let everyone know about the conference happening Feb. 16-17 in Rochester, Minnesota entitled "A Place to Stand:Biblical Authority in a World Adrift," put on by Shaeffer's L'Abri house. Check out http://www.labri.org/minn/conference.html for more info and feel free to give me a shout if anyone might be up for that.

Also, congratulations goes out to Todd and Heather for their children making abilities. .all the best you two.

Signing off,
Ben

Kurrent Events

2006-12-02T16:45:00.000-08:00

Hey everybody,

First of all I want everyone to notice that I spelled 'current' with a 'k' instead of the typical 'c', to me this adds humor and fun to an otherwise boring word.

It's been awhile since my last post I know, I keep starting one and then I can't focus long enough to finish it. So anyway, here it is, current happening include:

-Buying a car.
-Working two jobs, a server at the bonfire restaurant (everyone should come thursday nights at six for 40 cent wings and Grey's Anatomy), and at Brock Mission as a resident care worker.
-Possible visit to Tibet upcoming in the summer, as finances warrant. .cars have a neat way of sucking up every available remainder of cash.

I'm still going to Braidwood, though work limits frequency, though I thought it wise to take a little break from Bible College. Please pray that I would love everybody because I'm finding it hard to as of late.

Peace to you and your cin (noticed I replaced the k with a c. .fun eh?)

Update

2006-04-27T07:30:00.000-07:00

Well, this is probably the last bit of blogging I'll be doing for awhile, I know this will be a painful realization for many of you but. . .all good things must come to an end right. . .and bad things. . must also come to an end. .here's a brief update of thing I have accomplished and what I hope to accomplish this summer Lord willing,

Things I have accomplished:

1. Finishing my second year of Bible College.
2. Finding an actual job here in Toronto.
3. Buying four tins of fruit salad.
4. Surviving Toronto with minimum suffering.

Things I hope to accomplish this summer:

1. Find a summer job.
2. Travel somewhere.
3. Play much frisbee, football etc.
4. Finish at least one book.
6. Make at least one pair of overall shorts.
7. Create life. . .from baking soda. . .

I know, I know, I've got to stop setting such lofty goals for myself, I mean, who the heck has time to make overall shorts? Seriously though, I'm thinking this summer will be a good one assuming a job rolls around my way.

And to all TBS students, thanks for the great year, press on this summer, never stop praying.

Mad props to the free world,
ben

p.s.Everyone should listen to the Supertones and Paul Oakenfold

2006-04-02T21:51:00.000-07:00

I found this forum post here: http://www.ephilosopher.com/phpBB_14-action-viewtopic-topic-1824.html He's got some pretty interesting stuff to say. .most people live lives of quiet desperation. Answer the question at the end if you like.

"The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain."--Lord Byron.

It is Thursday night, about 9:00 P.M. I have just walked through Washington Square park, near New York University (NYU), and I am sitting at a sidewalk Cafe. I inhale deeply the clouds of marijuana smoke emanating from the group of NYU students sitting at the next table. I type away at my laptop. I love the anonymity of the city. In a little while, I'll get up and continue walking.

A couple of nights per week I like to walk aimlessly through these streets. I like not being seen by the people who stare at me, but who really look past me. I like drifting into my favorite bookstores, pulling down a volume of poetry and reading some verses that I can then repeat to myself as I stroll through the dark streets, the ones with names and not numbers. I observe the faces of strangers as I walk.

It is amazing all that one sees in those faces: fear, anger, worry, confusion, often even a kind of weird horror. I like to imagine what is happening in those lives to produce those thinly veiled and barely suppressed emotions. Also, I am struck by the sheer narcissim that develops in people living in a city like this. I am an excellent example of it.

Most New Yorkers, maybe most people these days, seem to live inside their heads. In the case of the simplest of us -- the men who are usually somewhat overweight, wearing expensive suits and large gold watches -- it is all-too easy to discern the fantasies that keep them going. I can almost predict the hour of the Friday night visit to the strip joint or favorite prostitute, the sporting event with "the guys from the office," the chats with the wife where money is traded for privacy, that is, in which the standard deal is made: he will go to the PTA meeting and stay awake; she won't ask annoying questions.

In the case of the more complex -- and this includes ALL women -- the yearnings may be darker, a craving for power or wealth may be visible in their faces. Often one senses a sexual hunger seething just under the surface calm in people, especially women. This was a surprising discovery for me. It is often the women who look at you hungrily.

A great deal of anger is visible too. By the age of forty, many city women seem to have a lot to be pissed off about -- and if you're not careful, it'll be your problem that they're not happy. Caution and politeness is the order of the day. Even the most casual statement may be scrutinized for a "typical" male lack of sensitivity or for political incorrectness, so it is wisest to pretend that you're Betty Friedan when you're introduced to a strange woman downtown.

The anger they feel must have a lot to do with the men or "significant others" in their lives. The assumption usually is that, being male, it is likely are that you are an "asshole" too. The burden of proof is on the men to prove that they aren't -- and in my case, I probably will not succeed in meeting that high burden, so I try to slide away unscathed.

I see a lot of pain in human faces here. Some more than others, of course, a few seem to bear MUCH MORE than others. I also see the defenses against that pain: numbness, deadness, apathy. People want to feel less, not more. There are many ways of accomplishing this, alcohol being only the most common.

It is difficult not to feel sorry for some of those faces.

I see how little, despite the chit-chat of city life, people really care about all the stuff the media thinks they care about. For instance, the election bores most of them to death. For most intelligent adults, American movies are ... well, "tasty and less filling." They're the cultural equivalents of potato chips. Books, if they read (and most people don't), are forgettable and trashy -- except for rare individuals who favor a particular serious writer or two, books mean nothing to people now.

Life is mostly about "dealing with things," a bunch of daily hassels, so that you can cope with more of them tomorrow. Children are a plus, a reason to get up in the morning and pretend that everything is fine. A magician capable of weaving a magic spell of excitement or mystery for these people could get them to follow him or her anywhere, a frightening thought. It may help to explain some of the horrors of the last century. Promise these people an adventure with some meaning at the end of it, and they're yours forever. Scary, really scary.

I am just the opposite. I want the boring life that will allow me to invent and write down the stories that will interest these people long enough to get their $7.95 for my paperback. (If I'm lucky, I'll finish one soon.)

If it is true that most people live lives of quiet desperation, then the loss of everything that gave meaning to their grandparents lives must have something to do with this widespread frustration. Religion means little to people now; and love is a dirty word or a cause for cynical laughter, often enough, although most of these same people still want it but don't think they can get it; politics means greed and corruption; money "comes and goes"; and sex is dangerous. So what's left? Nothing much. Only more of the same. Another day in the life. Quiet desperation.

My questions: Do most people now lead lives of quiet desperation? Does this include you? If not, why not? What "floats your boat"? What makes your life worth living?

Jeremiah 17:7 "Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, And whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by waters, which spreads out its roots by the river. .those who depart from me shall be written in the earth, because they have forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living waters."

artists are beautiful people.

2006-03-14T20:39:00.000-08:00

"The Christian is one whose imagination should fly beyond the stars." -Francis Shaeffer

So I've been thinking lately about the Christian and art, and then I found this great quote from my buddy Shaeffer. . .and it all came together. I know what you're all thinking, "ben can't paint or write worth a dingleberry. . .and I haven't noticed a whole lot of inspiring songs coming out of him. .or any for that matter." In all these things you would be true. . .but God in His grace has at least given me eyes to see light and color, ears to delight in music, a mind to identify with poetry, and a heart to use them for worship.

From the vast ceilings of Michelangelo's chapel, to the echoing strains of Handel's Messiah; from the vivid dreams of John Bunyan to the lilting cries penned by William Cowper. . . in all these we see God's undeniable hand that, at times, reaches down to gift individuals with such rich talent that cannot help but seep from their being, pictures or words that form pictures that come from the very essence of who they are.

In C.S. Lewis's "The Screwtape Letters," one thing I see the demons most trying to prevent is the opportunity for humanity to appreciate beauty. In one scene a senior devil advises his apprentice to discourage his prey from entering art galleries. . and if this should somehow happen, to make sure he does not stop to gaze upon a piece for too long. I thought about this and soon realized the demons fear. The human mind longs for beautiful, wonderful things. . things that this present existence can't offer, and at times, the heart will catch glimpses of it. . in a line of music. .in a sky painted on canvas. .and may, for one brief moment, begin to look outside itself. .and the devil hates when a heart isn't consumed with itself.

I've come notice things about artists. . .they're different, unique. .they may find enjoyment in talking about deeper things; their dress may be, dare I say 'wierd,' but I think it's because they define beauty in a way our culture has a difficult time relating to. That being said, artists of every kind rise up, don't ever stop doing your thing, spread your wings and fly beyond the stars.

(authors note) This post has in no way been shaped by the fact that a girl very close to me happens to be a wonderful artist. .

Ryle's in the House

2006-03-10T21:41:00.000-08:00

"Let us beware of any hope that does not exercise a sanctifying influence over our hearts, lives, tastes, conduct, and conversation. It is a hope that never came down from above. It is mere base metal and counterfeit coin. It lacks the mint-stamp of the Holy Ghost and will never pass current in heaven. The man that has a real hope, no doubt, may be overtaken in a fault. He may stumble occasionally in his practice and be drawn aside from the right path for a while. But the man that can allow himself in any willful and habitual breach of God's law is rotten at the heart. He may talk of his hope as much as he pleases, but he has none in reality. His religion is a joy to the devil, a stumbling block to the world, a sorrow to true Christians, and an offence to God. Oh, that men would consider these things! Oh, that many would use some such prayer as this, “From antinomianism and hypocrisy, good Lord, deliver me!”

The above was taken from an article by one of my good friends J.C. Ryle; I have never read anyone else who can so quickly come to the heart of truth, he is one of my most admired hero's of the faith.

Do we fear sin? Can we habitually go on in it and not feel anything? True hope, as Ryle says will ". .exercize a sanctifying influence over our hearts, lives, tastes, conduct, and conversation," in other words, a Christians can't be happy in sin.

One torture popular in the dark ages occured when two pieces of metal were lashed together, heated in a fire, then placed over the head of the victim so the scorching pieces would fall over the chest and back. If he leaned forward, attempting to gain relief to his chest, this would only cause the piece on his back to burn even more into his back. .

Sin is like a hot piece of metal, it would have been unthinkable for someone being afflicted with this torture to stand there grinning like an idiot while his flesh was charring; so when sin springs up in a Christians life, it is impossible for Him to remain apathetic. Indeed, the pain should be so intense that they cry out and would give anything for it to be taken off, the longer they leave it, the more suffering they afflict themselves with.

Anyhow it's doubtful many of you are still reading by now, but if we know someone like this, or are like this ourselves, could we please not just ignore it? We've really lost a true sense of sin's danger in our time; sin remains an airy, ethereal, concept most people vaugely have this notion their forgiven of. God is still just, the wages of sin is still death, and the gift of God is still eternal life.

2006-02-20T17:58:00.000-08:00

So I've tried to start this post several times now and I keep stalling, I know I'm long overdue for one. Guess I keep hoping the inspiration muse will skip in at any minute to work his magic. .unfortunately I think I bound and gagged him awhile back and now he's kinda just festering in my closet.

How ya'll doing out there? I've no idea who reads this junk anyway. Lurkers? Friends? Enemies looking for dirt? Lurkers looking for dirt on friends? This weeks been kind of wierd I guess, and not that great wierd you wake up everyday hoping you'll run into, I run into wierd damage like this alot where I work. There's this guy who comes in sometimes and he's got this long brown robe and a long staff like thing, not unlike a character you might see in Lord of the Rings, anway, he's got this little squirrel he keeps in his hood and he feeds it cookies and cheese and stuff. . that's a good kind of wierd.

No, this wierd I've lately had the pleasure of experiencing is not really any fun at all. It makes you kind of impatient and introverted and selfish, some people might call it depression which some people might call guilt which some people, namely, the Bible, might call a lack of trust in God.

My good friend John Bunyan once wrote about someone who kind of felt like this, um, pretty much his whole life, his name was Christian. Christian was just an average joe like you or me who went through a whole lot of crap in his life. He fell in a swamp, almost got mauled by lions, killed himself trying to get up a mountain, walked through a valley filled with things that wanted him dead, got locked and beaten in a dungeon, almost drowned in black waters. Come to think of it, he didn't really rest until he found himself admitted at place where nothing would ever hurt him again.

Being a Christian isn't easy, so let's stop fooling everyone into thinking life is going to be a bed of roses when they become one. It's an uphill battle and we gain every painstaking inch with metaphorical (and sometimes literal) blood, sweat, and tears. If I may, I'd like to insert some religious phraseology here, "GOLGATHA IS NOT A SUBURB OF JERUSALEM." Why do I do I keep going? Well Jesus once asked his followers the same thing and they said "Lord, to whom would we go, you have the words of eternal life." Well. .there you have it.

Signing off.

this post is for all those poor parents who are frustrated because their church doesn't offer daycare

2006-01-31T15:09:00.000-08:00

Christianity Today is a really good magazine, and the good news is that, for those like myself who are too cheap to shell out the money for an actual subscription, you can even find all their archived articles online.

That being said I recently read an article by CT reporting on the current situation in Uganda that literally made me feel sick when I did. For those who aren't familiar with what is going on, well, you could be forgiven for that since our glorious media has decided to report on more important things like two idiots weaving in and out of traffic or the recent success of a movie about two gay men.

Children in Uganda are frequently forced to join a movement an individual by the name of Joseph Kony has decided to call The Lord's Resistence Army or the LRA. He is the leader and propogater of this cult which actually started as a movement in 1986 that was originally intended to be a rebellion against the Ugandan government, but has now mutated into what we call a "military millenarian cult." Basically, it is a guerilla faction that operates mostly on the border region between Uganda, and Sudan in East Africa.

Not only are people killed in these raids, but they are tortured, burned, and terrorized beyond recognition, their bodies often ending up nothing more then bleeding pieces of flesh. Children are frequently recruited to do most of the killing and often are ordered to hack to pieces their own family members with mechetes "lest family bonds supersede those to the LRA. " The following is a quote fom CT and I don't apologize for the graphic detail as this is what is really happening to real people at this moment:

"Under threat of death LRA child soldiers attack villages, shooting and cutting off people's lips, ears, hands, feet, or breasts, at times force-feeding the severed body parts to victims' families. Some cut open the bellies of pregnant women and tear their babies out. Men and women are gang-raped. As a warning to those who might report them to Ugandan authorities, they bore holes in the lips of victims and padlock them shut. Victims are burned alive or beaten to death with machetes and clubs. The murderous task is considered properly executed only when the victim is mutilated beyond recognition and his or her blood spatters the killer's clothing. "

These are children. . .brainwashed into thinking that what their doing is in the name of God. Many of them flee to the city to cramped shelters without food and water to at least escape the horror of having to kill their own family. Will you pray with me tonight for the children and families of Uganda? Will you pray that God will reach out His sovereign hand and help these people? He has promised to hear us when we cry to Him.

Will you help me in raising awareness? In spreading what the media has forgotten?

For the full article, visit http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/001/18.30.html.

2006-01-23T19:44:00.000-08:00

One thing I must say first off: Congratulations Conservatives, you now have you well earned government. .don't blow it.

Ever resolve something and find yourself unable to do it? I make these so called 'resolutions' every year, not on New Year's Eve, but about three days before school starts: I resolve to be more organized, to start keeping an agenda, to stop procrastinating, and every year without fail my resolutions get smashed by repeated blows with the ol' apathy hammer. I find myself unable to do what I want to do.

The reason lies in my lack of trust in God which narrows itself down to a lack of prayer. My problem is that I still somehow manage to seperate my life into cubicles of 'spiritual' and 'secular,' my mind still says there are some things God can do, and some things I can do. I fail to realize that I'm just a branch on a vine, without Him I can do nothing, imagine the futility of grapes trying to grow on their own, like, just sitting there in the dirt trying their best to grow fruit, how stupid and. .unnatural.

So that being said, let's commit our lives to God, like, really. No more of these ethereal, tepid prayers that just kind of hang in the air like wet laundry, really solid prayers about practical things: like how we're going to organize our week, or how we're going to love that individual who's been ticking us off lately.

I just have to conclude with a section here which I've been told has to be entitled 'mug shots,' you're right, I never would have thought of it on my own.

The first picture is of a beautiful, wonderful, girl God has brought into my life, for those who don't know, her name is Melissa. She's one of those sincere, godly, people that are so hard to find these days.

The next is of me, yes, the one with the 10 litres of coffee stuffed in his face.

Cheers.

Our Father of Lights

2005-12-27T23:27:00.000-08:00

Hi my name is Ben and. .and. .I'm a neglectful blogger. Ach, I knew this was a bad idea as soon as I started. . .ahem. .

I was driving back to Toronto on the bus today and found myself scanning the dull landscape that passed by; snow splotched farm fields, dead trees, and decaying old barns made for a depressing trip. By chance I happened to look up. . . and through grey, misty clouds managed to catch a glimpse of a shimmering blue sky, of pale white clouds outlined by gold.

It brought to mind my walk with God. Sometimes I pass through grey days feeling as if I roam the town of Lewis's divorce. I run into almost a rut it seems, like, this is all there is. Then my eyes look to the mountains, I read the pages of His word and there IS more, more then these dull mortal eyes can take in. In my mind he flames with burning raindbows of brilliance; there is no solid color, no shade or pigment that describes His person. His redemption piercing white, His blood the most vibrant crimson, His life the deepest green, His majesty the highest royal blue. The more we read, and learn, and look, and grow, the more intense, the more saturated His colors become. . .not because He Himself changes, but because He is opening our eyes to behold just another shred of His divine palette.

Friends, let Christ never be dull to you, if you grow to see Him beautiful in this life, how much more when our veil is removed. .

Eternity

2005-11-18T07:10:00.000-08:00

Was looking at the night sky yesterday and noticed the clouds passing in front of the moon. Instinctively I shuddered, not because of the cold, but because I again realized that we are just like sand on a beach, tiny specks in a vast universe.

I'll be honest, eternity scares me, probably more than anything else. I know I must face it, humans were created with immortal souls, but, in a sense, I don't know how I will face it. Mysteries scare us, we want to be able to explain everything, that's part of the reason the human race has wasted no time in trying to discover all there is to know about our world; maybe that's why an undying life is so daunting, it is a reality so foreign to anything that we know.

Imagine it though. . .a life that will never end. No more obituaries, no more funerals, no more cancer; finally the sting of death will be gone. After ten thousand years we will be no closer to the end than when we started, no clock, no deadlines, no being early or late. .time itself will become meaningless. There we will be stronger and happier then we could ever imagine; no headaches, no heartbreak, no tears. . .no tears.

I know this God of eternity, but I'm still scared. For those who don't know Him, how do you sleep, how do you eat, how do you breathe your next breathe, realizing that you to must some day stand face to face with the real.

I wanna go Deeper. . .

2005-11-07T19:23:00.000-08:00

Just listening to some old school delirious and this song just hit me, I think it was Lewis that said we settle for too little in our Christianity. . .

Guess this hit me a little more lately, just finished Brian (or Bruce, never can seem to remember his name) Mclaren's "A New Kind of Christian", and realized how refreshing it is for Christians to step outside their box sometimes. No, I didn't agree with everything that he said, but he was willing to stick his neck out and for that I respect I him. I think he mentioned something about how we're always so afraid of saying things that people don't agree with, or doing something that doesn't sit well with out baptist, brethren, pentecostle. .whatever, presuppositions. Like, "ok they have to say this now" or "now they should be singing this song" or "I better say Amen now" or "I better raise my hands now."

I'm not talking about being rebellious just for rebellions sake, that doesn't accomplish anything and frankly. .annoys people. I'm talking about living a faith that has it's roots in God, in God people, and that flows out into love. .for. .people! I'm not talking about watering down the message, I'm talking about reforming the message, I'm taking about bringing solidity to the message!

Cold, hard, reality. .

2005-10-18T22:35:00.000-07:00

It's been hitting me more recently, reality, not like I've been living in a dream world or anything, but I'm beginning to realize how clueless and naive I am on so many things. I'm convinced more and more that modern Christianity just wants everything nice, don't make me uncomfortable, don't make me change, just give me a mold I can fit into, don't give me a relationship, give me a cause I can argue for, don't make me a leader, just let me follow like everyone else.

I think I often forget the pain that some people are in, maybe I just don't want to hear about it, maybe I'll just let someone else do it. Maybe I'll sit here on my butt and watch souls die around me while I sit on some spiritual cloud nine where nobody can touch me. Wake up people, we're in this world, we can't ignore it, when are we going to "spark the holy culture?"

When's the last time we sat down with someone and genuinely asked how they were doing, when's the last time we asked someone if there's anything they want us to pray about. When's the last time we forgot about ourselves for 10 freaking seconds and opened our eyes to the world around us.

Maybe these words will be more powerful when I start living them myself. . .

The never-ending saga. . .

2005-09-26T15:53:00.000-07:00

I guess this has turned into kind of a weekly thing, but in all honesty, I don't think I have enough stuff to write about in every day anyway. I recall someone telling me once that they don't blog because they don't feel like pouring their heart out for all the world to read. . .I kind of know what he mean, so that's why I will not burden the poor lurker out there with my dark secrets.

God has been very gracious yet again as I have been praying recently that He would provide an opportunity to serve, as well as perhaps a job so I can start saving for next year. Talked with someone last week who, it turns out, works at Scott Mission, and organization that works with homeless people. They were look for another on-call worker! So I went for an interview and started on Thursday night (yeah it's 7pm-7am so we'll see how long I last.) Pray that God would provide opportunities to talk to these hurting people. I'm no better than any of them, but for the grace of God I could have been in any of their situations. Hehe, I talked with a guy on Thursday who was conviced that RCMP stood for "Roman Catholic Military Police."

2005-09-17T21:27:00.000-07:00

Not sure why, but above made me want to laugh hystarically, probably because I'm a somewhat warped individual. Not sure if I'll make a habit of this but I think it's good to let people know what your up to occasionally.

Moved in to residence here in Toronto about a week ago and was struck how unlike Peterborough it is. You know, usually when your walking by somebody there they'll say hi or at least do something to acknowledge your presence. For some reason ( it may have something to do with the abundance of drug pushers and prostitues) here, this never happens. Oh you'll get mean stares and. . well usually that's about it. Seriously though, this city is a mission field, it only takes a brief glance in someones eyes as they walk past to know that they're hurting. Let me tell you about a few people around here.

-Yesterday there were three gentlemen sniffing crack right underneath our residence window, our secretary politely asked if they could do it somewhere else.

-Today I walked by the front of the church and saw three guys guzzling listerine, a low-budget way to get smashed (and fry your brain.)

-There's a scitzophrenic(?) women who is always around the church. She stands there day after day except yesterday they took her away in an ambulance.

-Tonight as I walked into Harvey's I met a homeless man, Dave, who was writing a book about phsycology, I talked with him for about a half hour as our conversation quickly shifted from the state of the family to the reality of the depravity of man (never judge a book by it's cover, or in this case, someone's mental cohesivenes by their clothes.)

God has placed us in a mission field, pray that we would honor Him as we study.

2005-08-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

Testing, testing.