Monday, June 25, 2012


Artists aspire to what is plainly before our eyes.  As well they should.  But it occurred to me as I took the opportunity to enjoy yet another Seattle dawn-that nothing even our wildest fantasies can envision compares to the every day world.  The miracle of life and living is by far the greatest mystery and adventure.  Examining even the most basic stuff is to me compelling beyond words.

How many of us embrace this?  I was standing at the bow of the boat and saw, smelled, felt, tasted and heard a natural symphony.  It is God's symphony.  As effortless as an arpeggio for a pianist.  Da, da, da, da, da.  And there it is.

I was listening to some music earlier.  One of my favorite singers, James Ingram, was playing.  But there was no video.  It seemed silly that I wanted to see this person who bared his soul to me through the headphones.  And I considered theater and its attempts at stimulating totally through visual and auditory stimuli.  Selling the experience. 

Well, it's not too complicated to understand that a show or production should deal with as many senses as possible.  We are always looking for a greater sensation.  Many people take drugs to alter their mind.  When we are intimate with someone special to us, we want to feel a greater connection than a mere mutual contortion.  We want to capture the mind.  We even long for the familiar scent.  And so it is with these experiences that our greatest artists put together.

How much more then is the world in which we are totally immersed?  The colors of the sky-that could have been easily been written off as simply a sky and filed away as such-were dramatic in the extreme.  Deep indigo fading to the redish sunrise we are familiar with.  We would marvel at the TVs that reproduce this.  I marveled at the original.  Wow.  The gull flew over head through the deck light and was lit up in a stark contrast to this sky.  It was wild.  And it was real life.  That just happened.

Life is happening.  As I've said before, I am convinced that enjoying these breaths is necessary in living joyously.  It seems so easy.  On the boat, I have met many people, and these from very different walks of life.  The common thread is that people who are disposed toward some happiness are happy and deal with adversity well.  Those who aren't don't even deal with success well.  There's no silver lining.  Living with the disease of pessimism is a struggle as tough as any cancer. 

There is so much to be joyous about.  He loves us.  As we are.  Wherever we are and whatever we are doing, that remains.  Receiving this is a revelation every time I think on it.  Even as boneheaded as I am, have been, and will continue to be, this truth can't fail. 

I avoid the free lance philosophy for the most part, but there is no escaping a little taste here.  Time is an illusion.  It must be so.  There is no coherent argument for the flowing model.  There are compelling spiels.  But when it comes to defending models of time that treat it as a thing that exists as it appears to conscious beings who experience it?  It breaks down.  Time is static.  It is a road that is moved upon, not the car that moves.  So when it comes to eternal questions about God's promises and the like, we don't have to worry about it changing at such and such a time.  Because He simply is.  When asked, God replied, "Tell them I am."  Tenseless.  Even the tensed descriptions of 'was, is and will be' imply the same.  Tenseless.  Timeless.  And wholly real when I am on the bow at dawn.

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