Lazarus unwound

She walks down the street with a confidence that holds life itself in contempt- a "you-aren't-going-to-defeat-me" gait that carries her around the common and beyond the peonage. She plows through the cracked and crooked cyprus door, pausing only to allow her cornea to adjust to the dim, a duskiness that inhabits the cleavage of the walls, scurries across the floorboard and over the surface of the shack that somehow gained the reputation as a shop. The compound odors of garlic, curry, cigar, incense, dust, and ancient artifact condensed to agitate the nostrils of her finely refined nose. She swipes at her sharply pressed sierra sand colored skirt and fitted white blouse in reaction to the nearby grime and scans the perimeter against possible incursions. The tailor made "Refined Explorer" boots she purchased in Milan wrinkle at the toe of their own volition in distaste at the dirt floor which had undoubtedly been the bed of a herd animal at some not too distant past. Her cosmetically enhanced nails brush a single stray hair back in place as she gathers herself against the onslaught.

She takes a folded letter out of her pocketbook and glances over it "...happy to hear you may have discovered... can't tell you what it will mean... will await your article... Finkelberg has a new find... a real blow... your work, in the right hands, might... Get back to us as soon as you can!" Finkelberg! That Israeli hack has no loyalties. His own people were tired of his anti-biblical rant. She takes a step in one direction, then another. Scowls silently, "Gives pacing a bad name" then stops to glare toward the "back" of the hovel where a man's voice seems to transmit from.

"You, hey there," the international accent was so heavy that it was nearly unintelligible-- to anyone. "What do you here?"

It's a wonderful life...

I am spiritual person-- with or without a deity. I believe in the unity of humanity and that when you are still and quiet you feel the power of the connection that binds us all with the universe. (there are some that might call that god but they don't believe you need to believe it IS god-- I'm fine with those people. But I don't believe it is god, just remains of the star dust that make up the universe which we all carry within us)

I have a tremendous peace and humbleness before a sunset...

or sunrise.

I weep when I hear the whisper of the wind in the palm trees at night and see the stars twinkle in the sky.

My breath is taken away by a beautiful passage in literature.

I feel a great joy and elation when I hear a symphony or the lyrical tones of Chris Botti.

I believe there is something bigger than myself that I am to serve-- not god, but humanity because if there is a god, then god would definitely want people to care for each other. Especially those who are not able to care for themselves. My duty to humanity is to contribute something in this world-- to make it a better place in some small way--even if it's just putting a wonderful book in a kid's hands...

life is good

Where is your place???

Have you ever been somewhere that speaks to your soul, creating a peace that seems to move beyond the quiet of the moment? Some believe that we each have THAT place- though some may not have found it yet, nevertheless, it is there just over a distant horizon.

Some years ago, I was invited on a trip to a small tropical island. It was beautiful! I was told exuberantly. It is out of time, it was claimed. I smiled knowingly, confident that what one called art was called craft for another. I would wait and see.

On first blush, the island was hot and steamy, reminiscent of a large microwave oven. Tourists stormed the beaches like Normandy. I was not impressed.

Our first evening we went to heaven... 'Blue Heaven' to be more specific, where I experienced my first taste of the magic at the end of the world: a small family owned restaurant. We sipped champagne under the palm trees as our hair swayed to the rhythm of the gulf breeze and roosters clucked by the table legs. An elderly gentleman plucked gently at his guitar and crackily crowed an oldie from the eighties as the waitresses valiantly asked "would you like soup or salad?" between his vocal improvisations. Laughter bubbled out of the kitchen and the wafting of BBQ'd shrimp made my stomach rumble with yearning. I sighed with a deep contentment as I took a final slurp...

That was it. I was home.

Welcome to Key West-- the end of the world

On writing

Writing makes us vulnerable. When we write, we don't just flippantly put pencil to page and ramble off a litany of verbiage- we are sharing a part of ourselves. And if what we put down in writing offends, then we may lose people we care about.

I was raised in a household where every thought, every word, every deed, was a reflection on god. It's not that we were threatened with hell or god was going to strike us down but if we failed to show god's power in our lives then god had no power. We were to be "salt and light","beacons on a hill" "WITNESSES". No flaw was acceptable-- from flatulence to anger. But there was no threatening, no condemnation-- simply an acknowledgment that you weren't measuring up. You were forgiven but clearly, you needed to work on that flaw because we all had to give our "utmost for his highest." My childhood was not fun and play and dreaming-- it was Preparation for God's Work . Imagination was accepted because it kept children busy- out from under foot. I was instilled with a true passion for living life as the bible taught me to. I do not condemn my parents, nor am I bitter about my "different" childhood. I was raised the way a child should be raised if god is who believers think god is.

My faith was real. As I grew, I tested my faith and tested my beliefs. I never just passively sat and let others tell me about god. I was never a pew sitter or one who had doubts about god's work in my life... My faith was not a fraud which I cast aside one day at sunrise because I wanted to live a wanton lifestyle. The change occurred little by little- first centimeter by centimeter, then inch by inch, and gradually step by step (with no little help from my friends David and Jeanne) until my earnest childlike faith matured. I did understand and was willing to accept that god was not who I had been raised to believe god was. I allowed god to be who god was- quite separate from the bible and eventually in opposition to who the bible and the church said god was. Until one day it occurred to me that the whole idea that god cared whether I actually believed in god was silly, if god was who god is-. Belief, then, is meaningless. (and by the way, there is precedent from the bible for this as there are many texts that indicate the bible's authors were not terribly sure about who was in and who was out - that it seems to be more about behavior in the world rather than belief. Matt. 25:31-46)

And maybe, in light of how the people of faith behave, it is important to accept a new label, that of atheist. After all, if I say I believe in god, they assume they know what I mean, when they could not possibly. And atheism became a really appropriate label because, stripped from all the dogma and religion and the fraudulently conceived "experiences", there was no indication that there even is a god. It seemed better and even right to say to the world, "you don't know, I don't know, and we should not act as if we know. We are better off aligning ourselves with the "I Don't Know" or the "Don't believe" group so that we are not presuming we know things we don't. And behave rightly on this planet because all we truly have is each other."

If there were a god, I believe that is what god would want anyway.

Some might be able to move on in their life, and their family would not know or care what they believe. My family is not that way. They are always watching, measuring. They have been preoccupied with my "sinful life" but they know that that is a mere indicator of the change in my belief system. So one loss...

I expect more.

But it's just as well that they have let that be their evidence because if they were ever to read what I write- they would know then. That is, if I have the courage to write what I feel and think from my heart- and that is really the only way to write.

So, I write. I write my heart.