Empty House Echoes

     I woke up to my alarm this morning at 4:45.  Pressing the "snooze" button, I fell back asleep for the nine and a half minutes of peace that lingers between alarms.  I found those nine and a half minutes to be the most pleasing because I knew once that second alarm went off, I would be up and out of bed, moving on from my strange but pleasant dreams.

     

     The room around me was half packed into boxes and stacks of books had cast dark shadows on the floor.  The lamp on my cluttered nightstand seemed out of reach when I swung my hand around to find the switch and turned it on.  After another thirty seconds of contemplating the day, I finally got the courage to swing my legs out of bed and onto the floor.  I batted my eyes several times after rubbing them for a good five seconds or so.  The yellow light from the lamp made an appealing ambiance on the clutter around the room.  This is one of two inhabited rooms in the house.  Everything was packed up and moved out.  Everything except the few items that belong to my roommate and I that is.

    Adventure, and a necessity to begin the day, pulled me up from my sitting position on the bed to a staggered stance on stiff legs.  Pulling the door open, I stumbled out of my room and into the hallway where the bathroom was.  Finding the light switch of the bathroom I flipped it on, "CLICK!"  A replica of the noise echoed in the room across the hall.  Everything echoes in an empty house when the floors are synthetic wood.

     Dead eyes stared back at me while I brushed my teeth.  Little globs of sleep rested in the corners of my eye-lashes.  The sound of a thousand water drops hitting the bathtub floor built up anticipation for getting into the hot shower.  Deep breaths fill my lungs as I stood there in the bliss of a shower that contained no echoes, but the smooth, rhythmic noise of rain.  The "white noise" of running water provided an escape that washed over me with warmth.  My mind was emptied of all stress for just a moment.  The stress quickly came back as I start to process the day that was ahead of me.

    Getting out of the shower feeling refreshed and much more awake, I got dressed and headed down the hall toward the den where the stairs up to the kitchen were.  Each barefoot step I took on that synthetic flooring echoed softly on the den walls around me.  It all echoes...

     Once up the stairs I slowly made my way through the dark living room into the equally dark kitchen.  I noticed outside the window that the sky contained no stars and was hardly any brighter than the dark room I was trying to pass through.  I flipped on the light to the kitchen-more echoes...

     Another yellowish tint hung over all the random belongings that remained on the table and counter.  The fridge was littered with random food items.  I managed to put together a meager lunch for the day.  Grocery shopping had been put on the backburner of my priorities.  I found some an onion bagel and put it in the toaster.  The lid of the cream cheese "SNAPPED!" as I opened it.  Every stroke of the butter knife across the toasted bagel echoed through the kitchen and living room.  "SSHHRRRC, SSHHRRRC!"  The sound slithered through my ears and down my spine.

     As I sat down at the folding table to eat my breakfast in the poorly lit dining room that was between the living room and kitchen, I looked into the nearly empty living room, where the kitchen light shed an even dimmer light.  There were two pieces of furniture left.  A wooden chair, and a couch too small to be a love-seat, but too big to be a chair.  I imagined myself curled up in the fetal position on the couch in the nearly empty room.  The only other things that were in that room were a couple baskets and some empty picture frames.  It was a hollow yet beautiful scene that played in front of my eyes.  Like the dark stage set of a drama that I knew nothing about, but at the same time, seemed all too familiar.

     There was something strange about an empty house that I found haunting.  It was a sort of cocoon that stored the memories and fears of those that once lived there.  Of course that wasn't true, but in an empty house it can feel as though the walls can talk, and in the moments such as I had this morning, the walls don't seem to ever shut up.  

     So the echoes kept on speaking.  And as I sat there sipping my coffee, I decided to start listening.

                                                                             -N. M. Cummings

Thoughts from inside of a '91 Camry...

     Today I was listening to the album, "Saturdays=Youth" by M83.  While listening, it occurred to me that albums as a whole, or as a "title" are only ideas, and each track is a rabbit trail off that idea.  This may seem obvious to some people, but really the rabbit trails are in our heads just as much as the writers head.

     When writing the album the writer may have very specific meaning in each and every song, or they may have written it to be broadly interpreted.  Regardless, when I listen to these songs it triggers my own thoughts, my own rabbit trails, whether that was the writers intent or not.  If I listen to an album as a whole, with the theme or title in mind I hear each rabbit trail with that theme in mind.  It most likely isn't what the writer had in mind when they put the theme together, but it's my interpretation of what the writer was thinking.

     When first reading the title, "Saturdays=Youth."  I thought of friendships, and how the freedom of Saturdays can be related to the feeling one has from spending quality time with other human beings that are close to you, experiencing adventures together, meeting new people, and learning life lessons along side one another.  When reading the title and listening to the song, "Highway of Endless Dreams" it instantly sent me on a rabbit trail of envisioning a red convertible speeding down a desert road under a starry sky, headlights splitting the dark unknown, only revealing yellow line after yellow line.  I see two people in the car looking adventurous and satisfied.

     "Graveyard Girl" sent me on a rather personal rabbit trail.  The monologue at the end of the song reminds me of my freshmen and sophomore years in highschool when I was dealing with feelings of emptiness and craved fulfillment more than anything else.  I was a hopeless romantic.  Much like the "Graveyard Girl" I had these impulses to flee from the norm and submerge myself into mind numbing states.  Most mornings before school I would walk down and sit under the bridge that crossed over the Ottertail River.  Or I would take naps in the cemetery to find "peace."  The line, "I'm only 15 years old and I already feel like it's too late to live."  basically defines the emotions I had in those times.  I wanted to experience life to the fullest and loved it so much that I felt there was no time to lose.  But I had already missed so many opportunities that regrets filled my mind. Regrets that told me I would never make it to that peak of fulfillment.  It was a constant battle to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  That is when poetry and music became so meaningful in my life.

     Other songs on the album are mostly instrumental with inspiring, repetitive lyrics that create appropriate melodies that blend well with the soul.  They are the sort of songs that might inspire you to paint a giant pastel mural on the walls of an empty warehouse.  They are songs loaded with momentum, hope, and simplicity.  They are the rabbit trails of my mind.  Thoughts I get to claim as my own.  Created by the thoughts of a writer who was inspired by rabbit trails created by other writers.

     I guess what really occurred to me is that all these "ideas" and "rabbit trails" are just recycled inspirations.  They are thoughts passed down poetically from one, once teenage romantic to the next.  This may just be ramblings to most of the people that read this, and that is more than fine.  These are just thoughts formulating in my mind that I felt should be expressed.

     If there is one thing I'd like people to take from this post, it is this, listen to music and be inspired.   Don't be afraid to travel down these rabbit trails.  You never know where they might lead you to lead somebody else someday.

                                                     Thanks for reading, Nate

Only in the Rain

   
     I accidentally dropped my cell phone off of the balcony last night.  I started climbing down the fire escape to see if there would be anything left of the phone to salvage.  But about halfway between the first and second story of my apartment I realized that the night was cool, suspiciously dark, and ever so inviting for an adventure...

     With a leap from the fifth or sixth step I landed on the dry pavement.  I could hear small pebbles crunch underneath my feet.  The air was heavy, you could smell the rain in it.  One step down the alley and my cell phone was forgotten, presumably shattered across the asphalt.  Never thought much of cellular life I guess.  I figured walking to Freddy's was a good start for the evenings activities.  It's an all night diner, mostly truckers and street urchins like myself that hang out there.

      The party crowd isn't out tonight.  Unusual for a Wednesday night in a college town...  The fog was getting heavy and turning into more of a light mist.  I slid my hood over my head and zipped up the front of my sweatshirt.  I had a feeling of falling in my heart as I walked.  One of those inspiring nights, where the world is possibly your most infinite enemy, but you couldn't feel more in control.  Every breath was grateful, and significance defined my mental equilibrium.

     I swung the front door to Freddy's open and noticed Anne reading a book in the booth next to the old guy that always seemed to be there.  I slipped into the booth across from Anne just as she noticed me.
     "What are you reading?" I asked,  "Out of the Silent Planet" she replied.  "How are you liking that?"  "It's been transformational.  A metaphorical ambush.  You can't go wrong with science fiction writing from the late 30's...  I mean, how does someone write a book so like, deep and intricate about something they have never experienced or even had the resources to study."
      I could tell by this statement that Anne had been here reading for awhile and that I should just nod and flag a waitress down.  "What can I get ya'?" the waitress said in her usual monotone.  It must have been a long night so far.  She probably gets sick of customers like us that hang out here all night without leaving much for tips...  What Can I say?  We aren't rolling in the dough so to speak.
     "I'll get the coffee and pie please."  I said with a slight grin.
"Apple, banana cream, or pecan?"
"Pecan."
"I'll be right back with your coffee."  she said before quickly turning on her heels and heading toward the kitchen.  We both knew it was part of a script that we had been performing over and over again since the first time I found out about Freddy's.  It never seemed to bother her.  Maybe it was just part of working at an all night diner.

     Anne had set her book down and sipped her last drops of coffee anticipating a refill with my fresh cup on the way.  "So what brings you out tonight?"  she asked.
"Restless I suppose, had a feeling life might catch up with me if I didn't run away for a bit."
"Ahhh...  I see.  Well, do you mind if I tag along?  I need to take a break from this book.  It's blowing my mind to pieces..."
"Yeah, that sounds good."
    "Mel" brought my coffee and pie at the same time.  I sipped my coffee, took a bite of pie, then took two massive gulps of coffee and started getting up from the booth.  "You're just going to leave your food?" Anne asked.  I threw a ten dollar bill onto the table and said, "The night is too young to waste.  Let's go."
    So we left.  I held the door open for Anne as she pushed her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and stepped outside.  I slid the hood of my sweatshirt back over my head.  We started walking towards downtown.  "Why were you out here?" I asked in response from earlier.  "Roommates...  Couldn't get into my book.  And I just needed some fresh air..."

     The mist turned into a decent sprinkle and we danced around the sidewalk as we walked.  We walked about 15 blocks with no destination in mind.  We found ourselves in an unfamiliar part of town.  You know, that area of town that you frequently drive by, but if you didn't take the time to walk around you would have no idea what was actually there.  It started to downpour so we ran under the awning of the first store we saw.  It was called "Revolver-vintage and gently used clothing."  We stepped inside, soaked and smiling ear to ear.  The shopkeeper looked at us as we wiped our feet looking at one another, and began glancing around at all the bright pastels contrasting with the dull greys and browns.  We were instantly hooked.  I started browsing some plaid, polyester pants while Anne was checking out silk scarves around a faceless manikan.
    I went to the dressing room with a pair of plaid pants, they fit perfectly.  On my way to show them to Anne I saw a sailor's cap on a shelf.  I immediately grabbed it off the shelf and placed it on my head, slightly cockeyed.  Anne came around the corner only to be surprised by my proud grin and ensemble.  She laughed and pulled her camera out of her bag and snapped a picture of me posing like a sailor fresh into port...
   Anne revealed a smile as she pulled the camera away from her face.  A spark lit up in her eyes and she laughed as I turned around and headed back into the dressing room.  I left the pants hanging next to the mirror, and placed the sailors cap back in its rightful place.  I nodded at the cashier as we passed the front counter on our way out.  She didn't seem to mind our cheap laughs.  Maybe we were her only form of entertainment for the evening.

     I remember smelling the rain in the air as soon as we stepped back outside.  It was dripping off the awning in consistent streams.  Our eyes scanned the shops surrounding us, not wanting to step into the rain without some sort of a game plan.  Anne said, "Hey! Lets check out that used book store."  She ran into the street before I could even speak.  I followed behind quickly, pulling my hood up over my head as we exited from under the awning.  The rain was full of large drops that felt refreshing on our hands and faces as we ran across the street.  We reached the bookstore, "Red Books" it was called, mostly unscathed by the rain.  I wiped my feet just outside of the doorway while Anne casually shook the rain out of her coat.
    This place had a distinct smell, one that Anne had been very familiar with, old books.  A book has usually had it place in my life, but Anne took reading to a whole new level.  She would draw a blank if you asked her, "Seen any good movies lately?"  But to ask her if she had read any interesting books lately, you would soon wish you hadn't asked at all.

     Anne slowly walked down a leaning aisle of books, and ran her finger across their titles as she passed.  When a title would stand out to her she would stop and slightly tilt, her foot would halfway leave the ground as if she was going to take a step but didn't.  Whether the foot was slowly placed back on the ground, or finished the step determined if the book was worth looking through or not.
    As I paced the aisles and glanced around at all the books that seemed to be held together by a mystical means, I realized that almost all these books had been read at one point or another.  Hence the name, "Red Books."  I laughed at myself for not understanding the pun till then.  While I was still distracted in my thoughts, I was surprised by a squeal in the next aisle over.  I quickly poked my head around the corner and saw Anne, defining ecstatic with her facial expression.  "What?!" I asked her.  She said, "It's Emerson! A first edition!"  She squealed again.  I "Sshd" her as a grin crept across my face.  She hugged the book close to her chest with her eyes closed.  Apparently this was a big deal...  Anne continued to rattle off words that had zero meaning to me, but would have kept any Comp. professor engaged and attentive.  I had to admit, just looking at the book did make me slightly intrigued.
     We started heading to the front of the store where an old  man was sitting on a wooden "office" chair behind an old writing desk.  Anne asked, "How much is this one?"  The man looked at it through his bifocals, and looked back up at Anne.  "This is a good selection.  Have you ever read any of Emerson's essays before?"
"Yes, 'Circles' and 'Nature' are my favorite, but I've never held a first edition of either before."  The man seemed to be thoughtful for a moment.  He looked at the book once again, then back at Anne.
     "It is a fine copy indeed, and would fetch a nice price from a collector.  But to tell you the truth, I found this in the basement of an elderly woman's home when I was doing odd jobs to make it through college.  The old woman seemed happy to let me have it as payment for fixing the plumbing.  Seeing as it didn't cost me much of anything, I don't see why it should cost you much of anything either.  Being I can see that you must be as passionate about these old things as I am.  How does five dollars sound?"
     I almost reached out to catch Anne's jaw out of fear of it dropping to the floor.  She quickly started grabbing at her purse as she began fumbling over the words, "Really? Oh, thank you so much! You can't even understand how much this means to me..."  The old man stood up as he held his hand out as Anne handed him the money.  He set the cash on his desk, he apparently had no need for a cash register, and simply made his own receipts written with a ballpoint pen in an old fashion waitress notebook.  He held out his hand once more inviting a handshake from Anne, she stood there for a second then flung herself at the man, and wrapped her hands around him.  He seemed surprised, but then slowly patted her on the back and said, "I'm just glad that old thing can be put to good use instead of rotting away on my shelves."
    "Thanks again!"  Anne said as we stepped towards the door.  I opened the door for her, as she stepped out I looked back at the old man, "I like the name of the shop by the way." I said with a grin.  Anne rolled her eyes and pulled my out the door by my arm.  "You just got that now?" She asked.  I just smiled and continued walking.

     We stumbled down the sidewalk like drunkards, as we jokingly pushed each other back and forth, exposing the other to the rain falling from outside of the awnings.  That's when I saw a light flickering over an inlet in the wall.  A neon sign above the door read, "Closer Records."  I looked at Anne who had a confused sort of look on her face.  She shrugged, and I cracked open the door, and saw a guy behind a glass counter look up from a magazine at the sound of the door.  I opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside.  Anne right at my heels.
     I'm not really sure how to explain the way I felt in those first five seconds of being in that shop other than saying it felt like home.  A home in the sense that it felt right to be where I was when I was in that very moment.  I looked around the open room, walls covered in posters.  Morrissey, Minor Threat, Black Flag, 7 Seconds, Dinosaur Jr., It was breathtaking.  "Are you here for the show? Or are you just hangin' out?"  This was the first time I really looked at the man behind the counter.  He was a bigger guy.  Not fat, but not muscular either.  Just bigger.  He had a full beard and his ears were gauged to about an inch.  His head was shaved and two giant black "X's" were tattooed on the back of his hands.  "The show?" I asked?  "You're not here for the show?  You must be the only ones here that aren't..."
"Where is it?  You don't have bands play in here do you?"
"It's downstairs.  In 'The Basement." he said, pointing a finger to my right.
Anne and I followed his finger to a doorway that looked like it had a stairwell just in side and to the left.  "Who's playing?" I asked.
"Midwest Dilemma." he shot back.  As if still surprised that we had no knowledge of a show, or a venue for that matter.
"How much does it cost?" Anne asked curiously.
"Five bucks.  You can pay the doorman, He probably won't have change if you need it."
"We should check it out!" Anne said with a hint of excitement in her voice.
"Yeah, for sure!  Lets go."  I responded.

     The big man returned to his magazine as we walked towards the stairs.  I was burning with anticipation.  I felt like Anne was too.  It was a dark staircase with a lone light at the bottom, much like the one outside of the shop.  There was a closed door at the bottom, with a sign that said, "Careful when opening."  You could hear a jazzy acoustic vibe coming from the other side of the door.  I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly opened it.  The music flowed out loudly, but it was soothing, an enticing ambiance filled the room.  Quite a large crowd was there.  I never would have guess it with Anne and I being the only customers in the shop upstairs.  I heard a voice to my left say, "10 bucks..."  I turned and saw the doorman sitting behind a table with a cash box on it.  I gave him ten dollars, leaving me with one dollar still in my wallet, and he motioned us to go on.
     Anne and I made our way through the crowd so we could both get a look at the band playing.  I couldn't believe it.  Several people sat on the stage, all playing very different instruments.  There were guitarists, cello, violin, trumpet, and a few other instruments that I wasn't sure what their actual names were.  The person I took to be the leader was playing guitar and singing.  He had a large beard and long hair that flowed out of a stocking cap.  He reminded me of Sean Beam of Iron and Wine.  We listened to the notes bend, and the chords vibrate off the walls.  I could feel my guts rising into my throat.  I was getting choked up by the beauty of the whole scene.  I noticed my body swaying to the rhythm of the tunes.  Looking over at Anne I saw that she was doing the same.

     We stayed there for about a half hour, until the band was done.  We were caught in the middle of the bottlenecking crowd all heading towards the narrow doorway leading to the stairs.  We stay back, hoping the we could wait till the crowd thinned out.  I notice to the right of the stage there was a door with an "Exit" sign above it.  I nudged Anne and pointed my head towards the sign.  We went through the door and saw another staircase that lead up to a rainy alley.  We stepped outside into the rain, not caring that we were getting soaked.
     We started walking down the alley towards where we had come from.  It was dark.  Every forty feet or so there were lights over the back doors to the shops.  There was a waiter leaning against a brick wall smoking a cigarette.  His face showed blankness.  Obviously had been a dull night.  He gave us a nod as we passed by, then flicked his cigarette out into the alley, and disappeared behind a dark grey door.  The alley lead to the street that we had taken to get downtown.  Anne walked close to me.  I could tell we were both beginning to look very tired, rain running off our noses and our steps were beginning to slightly drag.

       The rain started letting up a bit.  Walking back to Freddy's seemed to take longer than it did getting here.  This didn't bother me.  In fact, I soaked this moment up, and took a deep breath in.  There was a euphoria that engulfed me.  I couldn't find the words at that moment that expressed how I felt.  Almost like an instrumental piece of music, although there are no lyrics, the music speaks volumes.  Possibly even more than lyrics ever could.  I felt satisfied, like something was accomplished even though the evening had so far been spent doing "meaningless" things.
     Finally, we reached Freddy's, where Anne and I would part ways.  She lived about four miles north, on the other side of town.  She shared a house with three other girls.  We said our goodbyes, both agreeing that tonight was exactly what each of us needed.  I gave her a slight wave and a smile as I turned and stepped off the curb toward my apartment.

     It was a thoughtful walk down the alley.  I processed the adventure that I was fortunate enough to embark on.  I was walking by the dumpster under the balcony of my apartment when a tiny red flashing light on the ground caught my eye.  I stepped close to get a better look.  It was my cell phone hardly concealed under a garbage bag.  I picked it up and examined it.  Not a scratch on it...  It must have landed on one of the garbage bags there and gently slid under another.  That's when I noticed there was a missed text message.  It was from Julia, Anne's roommate.  It said, "can you give anne a call? she just left the house really upset.  i dont think shes doing ok."  I looked at when the message was received, I got it nearly the exact moment I stepped into Freddy's.  As I pondered this my phone started vibrating in my pocket.  I pulled it out and read a text from Anne, "Thanks for the little adventure! It was a lot of fun! Have a good night!"

                                                           Thanks for reading, Nate

A Childhood Revisited

   
     I was reminded of a childhood dream today.  It must have started with seeing a movie where this idea first took place in my mind.  When I was about six or seven I wanted to join the circus or carnival.  I wanted to be a clown, juggle bowling pins and flaming sticks, tame lions, and perform as flying trapeze artist...

     It all sounded wonderful to my young mind.  In many ways it still does.  Seeing the country/world, constantly traveling, my home being a canvas pitched tent, or perhaps next to a bangle tiger in his cage.  I went to the county fair today.  I met some family members there, including two of my nieces.  I didn't have many expectations for the fair, being as it hasn't changed since I was about eight years old.  I merely went to meet up with the family and enjoy spending time with them.

     We looked at the horses, cows, chickens, goat, pigs, among the other typical fair animals.  I bought a maple-nut ice cream cone with my last dollar then continued to brows the fair.  My nieces kept telling my sister that they were ready for the rides now.  We waited in live to get tickets and my sister asked me if I wanted to go on the "Tilt-a-Whirl."  I said that I was fine.  But as they got in line one of my nieces realized she really didn't want to go on rides...  So I was asked to take her place.  She gave me the tickets as we waited in line.  Right before it was our turn some friends of mine's little boy called my name.  He asked if I would go on the Tilt-a-whirl with him because he didn't have anyone to go with.  So we got into the cart and waited for our ride to begin.
 
     At first the cart was only spinning a little bit, but as we got our momentum started pushing us we realized we had picked a good cart and were starting to spin faster and faster.  A smile split my face.  I haven't felt joy like that in a long time.  I heard the laughter of my little passenger next to me, and I started to laugh myself.  How is it that something so "little and insignificant" as the Tilt-a-Whirl can give you such freedom?  You're trapped inside this spinning cart on a floor that is also spinning in a wave like formation...  I wouldn't typically define that as freedom.  But it was freedom.

     We walked off the ride platform with big smiles on our faces.  That was the point wasn't it?  A few minutes after that I caught up with my family again.  They were in line for the, "Scrambler."  This also was one of my favorite rides as a kid.  My sister said she had, had enough of the rides but my niece wanted to check this one out because she had never been on it before.  After the experience just had, I jumped at the offer to take her.

     As we waited in line the childhood memories of the carnival and circus started to bloom in my mind again.  I watched the carni as he check the safety features of the riders ahead of us.  I imagined myself in his position.  I still am wondering what it could have been like...

     Soon enough, it was our turn to hop into one of the pods.  My niece hopped in right before I did and we sat there waiting with anticipation.  The ride started off slow, then quickly picked up speed.  We were continually flung back and forth from side to side.  It was as if we were going to slam into all the people standing around the cage.  We could have reach our hands out and touched them if we wanted to.  I was burning with inspiration.  Film angles were rushing through my head.  I thought about one of my favorite film scenes.  It's from the beginning of the movie, "Candy."  (which I don't necessarily recommend, it is a racy flick.)  Where the two main characters are in one of those carnival rides where you spin around and the gravity pins you to the wall, but in this one there are no cages and you can move around.  As the credits roll onto the screen you see these two, presumably love birds, reaching out and trying to walk towards each other.  The color and light in this clip is breath taking.  It matched the feeling I had tonight at the local fair.

    I guess what I'm getting at is to not let your dreams die.  I don't mean that in some yuppie way either.  I just mean that our dreams are a sort of fuel.  They are what breaks our seasons of being uninspired.  I had an expectancy of tonight being just like any other night, but it turned out breaking through the thoughts of having a mundane Wednesday night.  It inspired me and turned my thoughts upside down.  Life is good, it's short, and we must live it to the fullest.  Isn't that how God created us to live?  I am ready for the journey.  Lets go!

                                      Thanks for reading, Nate

People of an Open Heart

     Today I told a friend that, "I don't have an open mind, just an open heart."  I still think that is true, but saying it just made me think about it for awhile.  It seems like a very liberal idea that love can fix everything, but isn't that also true in the kingdom of heaven?  Obviously the two kinds of love each party is talking about is very different, but still, even in the Bible says out of faith, hope, and love the greatest of all is love.

     I understand that everything we do on this earth effects our spirituality.  I agree with the idea that the physical world and the spiritual world are directly entangled.  We don't have to travel into some mythical, transcendental state of mind, even though it can feel like that some times.  What we do in the spirit directly effects the natural, and the natural in the spiritual.  But this earth, the ground we stand on, the wind we suck in with the very last muscles in our lungs, and the fresh smell of the recently cut grass, it all is an illusion.

     Reality is in the kingdom.  The more we lose ourselves from this world and into the kingdom of God we start to see what is important and what is superficial.  The hunger for the knowledge of men quickly becomes pointless and will get you no where.  All the things we have ever wanted to learn or could ever possibly learn could never come from a mere man trapped in this flesh cage unfilled with the Holy Spirit.  I will put my time, my faith, my knowledge into the one who created it all.  The master mind, divine orchestrator of all that exists.  His word is one of the best ways to do that.  If you want to gain wisdom seek it in the right places.  LOSE YOUR MIND!
   
     I choose to live with an open heart.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart.  That is the first step.  Secondly, love your neighbor as yourself.  The rest will fall into place if you live according to that love.  I will be a man of the heart.  I will love the beaten, the broken, the ones looked over, the "normal" people, and I have great friends that better keep me accountable to that.  We need to have a common heart for loving one another.  That's is what the fellowship of Christians should be, iron sharpening iron.

     This is most certainly something I need to work on, and I pray for everyday.  I hope that we can all be people of the heart and join in common union towards what the Lord has commanded of us.

                                                               Thanks, Nate

A Free Slice of Pie from My Life

     The Trapeze Swinger by Iron and Wine has been one of my favorite songs since I first heard it on the movie, "In Good Company."  It has always struck a chord with me, made me very emotional, but at the same time has always been a song that makes me think there is an optimistic outcome ahead of me.  No matter how hard it is to see it, or even if it isn't at all perceivable, you hope it's there.
     Once I almost moved to Chicago and went to art school.  It was the same school Walt Disney attended.  I've never really traveled much.  It has always been my dream, but somehow I have always been so afraid of my own dreams.  Why didn't I just go to the school in Chicago?  Was I so afraid of failing at a dream that deciding to go with the "Run of the mill" college experience was my only option?  Maybe after two years of going to college and getting my generals done near by I can go to that art school...
     Obviously, I didn't ever go to that college in Chicago.  I ended up dropping out of college somewhere between my sophomore and junior year.  School had become something that was just in the way of living my self-destructive lifestyle.  I lost focus, didn't know what was real, or even what was important to reality.  Consciousness was a hopeful idea at the time.  Even when I was sober, everything was so bleak and grey I may as well have been asleep.  I have some memories that stick in my head like still shots.  I have a few moments remembering several sets of white teeth.  Laughing.  Still am not sure if those laughs were sincere, but I remember how at the time, I was convinced my toothy grin was real.  But looking back, was it all worth it?  I still don't have that answer yet...
                                                                          Thanks, Nate

Insanity Is Still Very Cool

     Is there such a thing as insanity? I mean really, everyone is somewhat insane, so that is just the "Norm."  Insanity is the usual plan of action by most humanoids....  But we tend to exist to live on the edge.  Show the world what we are made of as it were.
     Do you think being normal could be the real trip into the great beyond?  Living your life as it was planned by God.  Yeah, I know we messed it up and sin is a crap-sandwich in our lives, but that doesn't mean we have to let it rule our lives.  We as humans always strive to be unique and different.  I am very guilty of this, but maybe that is part of a sin nature.  Maybe we are meant to be who we were created to be, naturally before sin came into the world.  I'm not saying we have to sell all our belongings and live off the land in the woods, but we could maybe take a step towards just being who we are.
     Maybe our insecurities created this idea of having to be so independent.  I know that God created us all unique and creative in our own way, but I don't think He created us to act independently.  Obviously He gave us the choice to do so, but that would be choosing to not worship Him.
    I have heard that, that was the true sin in the garden in the beginning.  Not that Adam and Eve ate the fruit, but that they acted independently of God.  They chose their own path over His perfect way of life.  Like the deceiver Satan said to Eve, you will be like gods.  I think in that sense acting independently meant thinking you were above God, or gods yourself.  It may seem like a stretch to compare Adam and Eve's sin to our desire to be independent, unique, or even insane, but that's why I just write my mind into this blog.  Just putting thoughts into the digital void.
                                                                  Thanks, Nate