Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the passage of time and all of the things that means. Such a sweet sadness that is always mixed with deep joy. How I wish I could pour this out on the earth with all of it’s concepts and attached thoughts and perspective. Watching my children grow and watching the ever increasing number of gray beard hairs spread across get a since of impending significance.
Not that things are devoid of meaning at the moment but that the meaning the purpose is always there and the closer we move to it the more in focus all of the turning cogs and cosmic chemical processes come into focus. And I get sad. Not in the crying hopeless sadness but in the same way a people feel about their childhood being behind them. Yeah it’s sad but it is also good.
I have had to stop recently and ask myself if I am a writer or not. Am I a writer? Do I write? What qualifies that? Is it a readership is it an audience or is it the production or words knowing full and well that few even those close to you might not read them. Yes and I also feel brave for doing it. For bravery is doing something even though fear is present. Bravery is raising children knowing you will have to let them go.
I imagine my own sons will ask the question am I am man even thought the world says a man is someone who does X and Y and defiantly Z. I say this bravery is choosing God’s definition of a thing knowing full and well the world stands ready to stone you. You will be judge by the content of your character and you will only pass that judgment if Jesus Christ has vouched for you.
I see a lot of anger, hate and choirs like shouting but not what you thing. They all shout what about this and what about that. I refuse to go along with the suicidal behavior that so many have chosen this pass 9 years. Suicidal is exactly what it is. Any society that would choose to seek a path of destruction, anger and hate for any reason is simply digging a mass grave in which we will fight a civil war and the devil himself will fill in.
Go ahead and wave your flag, go ahead and chant your cause, round up your mobs, pull down the statues, and raze the homes of those that disagree, silence their voice without considering it is your voice as well; only a fool gives time and validity to another fool.
I am reminded of a creature in the book I am writing called the confessor. It floats and is bulbous and misshapen. Think an eye covered, black and gray flesh cloud. It forcibly invades the minds of those it is near and starts to confess the sins of those around it to those around it. So if Jim, Suzy and Jill spend anytime around this creature not only will they have a massive crippling head ache but they will also know each others deepest shames. Almost sounds healthy.