Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Origins of Godzilla

Originally it was a film done in Tokyo under the name Gojira, I believe; the japanese combo for whale and gorilla. Later, America remade the movie and entitled it Godzilla. If you don't know he is a radioactively altered dinosaur that is almost impenetrable and capable of breathing fire (or at least some ignitable poisonous gas). But I was more interested in what the suffix "zilla" stood for. I found that it is a plant that grows in the Egyptian desert...interesting. Also, simply it means little. So, little god.

Monday, July 25, 2005

godzilla

I had a dream Saturday night in which a town was being attacked by mechnical godzillas that did an eye-zapping thing sort of like the tripods in "War of the Worlds." It was night and the city was full of people trying to escape. I had a young boy with me and we were warned not to hide out in a room that seemed safe because of its thick walls. Someone said the walls would heat up and the people inside would burn to death. So I ran, and although I never saw the godzillas, I knew in my mind what they were and that they had been here before. The next morning the city was devestated. But I and the young boy had escaped. We had written a message on the wall telling his father where to find us. He did and they were reunited.

So if this speaks to you...stay away from that room! Just keep moving forward.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Psalm 44:3-7

For by their own sword they did not possess the land,
And their own arm did not save them,
But Your right hand and Your right arm and the light of Your presence,
For You favored them.

Your are my King, O God;
Command victories for Jacob.
Through You we will push back our adversaries;
Through Your name we will trample down those who rise up against us.

For I will not trust in my bow,
Nor will my sword save me.
But You have saved us from our adversaries,
And You have put to shame those who hate us.

It is interesting to be able to identify your own conflicts with those that David and others were experiencing at the time. To actually place your emotions within the context of the Psalms not only seems to disrupt feelings of isolation but it imparts hope as well. I read this passage this morning and I felt it was a reminder as many of us press on towards our promise lands. I will not trust in my own abilities or gifts, I will trust in You. I will not allow discouragement to back me down for You are faithful. Who rules above You? Everything is in subjection to You. Bring Your favor and Your blessings upon us. And when Your light goes with us our enemies cannot draw near. When we walk in Your presence strongholds are exposed and freedom is our portion. I pray that we will trust You and rest in that trust. Those who hope in the Lord will not be put to shame.

For interesting insight into the blessings of Jacob (for he is mentioned in the above scripture) go to www.whitedoveministries.org and check out the first section of 2005's Shepherd's Rod.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Tribute

Today "Beam me up Scotty" died. In honor of him this is a Star Trek rendition of last night's intern reunion (more of a meeting to discuss us teaching at a retreat but I did not want to say all that).

Cast:

Rick Sizemore as Kirk
Marc as Bones
Jared as Spock
Tulio as Scotty
Dave as Chekhov
Maranda as Nurse Chappel
Heather as Uhura
Amy as the villain

Stardate: 24543.1
Setting: Debriefing room after a recent mission to the planet, Pixie IV.

Scotty: Well Jim, I just didn't have the power. I heard you loud and clear through our official Christian Comm Link, the new and upgraded fish edition. But I haven't installed the matching chariot transporter interface yet.

Bones: Damn it Jim, we lost your signal after you took off for the grande opening of Pixie Donuts. Do you know what those ingredients will do to a man your age?

Kirk: I am fully aware of the danger I placed myself in. It was well worth the risk. Everything would have been fine if the natives had not unleashed their gods.

Spock: It is irrational to call large, carnivorous chickens gods. They are in fact composed of the same biological blueprints as those on earth. The molecular composition of the stratosphere on Pixie IV is conducive to extended growth.

Kirk: The point is my Vulcan friend, I wanted my Pixie Creams.

Chekhov: Only, they were too big to eat and I had to drag you out of a pile of greenish goo.

Bones: Good God man, that wasn't donut filling! Did you ingest any?

Chekhov: Well, no I didn't have time. The chickens were tailing us. We got lucky that they became preoccupied with the donuts.

Kirk: Yeah, Jesus! If it wasn't donut filling what was it?

Nurse Chappell: I did an analysis on some of the residue left on your tunic in-between Trading Spaces 3001. They recently cloned Frank's clone but he's just not the same. Hillary's robotic breast implant is starting to consume too much oil. They might have to amputate.

Spock: Interesting. Vulcans do not see the need for enlarged mammary units.

Bones: Have you all gone mad?

Kirk: Yes, what kind of donut filling was the green goo?

Nurse Chappell: The test results showed...

Chekov: Let me guess, one of those prehistoric birds ate too many donuts and spewed.

Nurse Chappell: No, not spew. But poo.

Kirk: I ate Pixie poo?

Uhura: Captain, although I do enjoy just sitting here as a luscious, exotic babe, I have to say that our date is off!

Scotty: Maybe that's why the transporter could not lock on a signal. Even though I was operating the white horse edition it still should have worked once you were out of range from the filth of Pixie.

Kirk: Don't worry about it, Scotty. You can buy me a drink.

Bones: Count me in! I've got a head ache from hell.

Spock: That is very implausible.

Bones: Oh lighten up my pointy-ear companion.

Spock: That is also implausible.

Little did the team know that these very large, very hungry chickens could fly. In fact, they could also hold their breaths for some time, which made the next part a good ending.

Scotty: Did anyone feel that rumbling?

Kirk: It wasn't me!

There was no time to call for evasive action. The ceiling was disintegrated by a blood-thirsty beak. As gravity left the Enterprise, the crew began to float toward the squawking mouth. One by one they were consumed in a frenzy of feathers and all that could be heard was the deafening cry of the chicken: "Stargate rules!"
I had to write a poem in the fashion of "Jabberwocky" so this is more for entertainment than anything. Enjoy!

Old Men Dream

The night eats the shore in claptrap form
and out of the sea stalks a Slitherwake
tail, moonlight dust along its mouth forlorns
hunger for a KuneClop or River Jake.

Somewhere down the ebbing shoreline
a dark breeze whirls the water west
while Boy awakes near parting tides
rubbing eyes on the winking moon.

Scrumct scrant the Slitherwake talks
to the bone fish digging in blue sand
Scrumpt scrant the Slitherwake stalks
an otherly smell, loathing beautiful man.

Boy gazes at Creeper Underwaloos
skipping their glowing green antenna
feet, zigzagging trails electric light shows
on sea water and starlight splendor.

He never saw the Slitherwake's plunge
from the Otherside, gaping endless deep
a hunger for Boy's heart to jump-plumit
into the cavernous prison, then to sleep.

Yet, unspeakable fortune an invisible
hand snatched Boy to the ebony plain
where planets wink, then sunlight pools
drip and gather till Boy is home again.

Monday, July 18, 2005

3:00 am

"Tornado's you've got to go," Jason Upton sings. The Lord woke me up with a cry for unity and as I sit here the faces of the ones who've been deceived into returning to the world for comfort run through my mind. I hope I sing with the same authority. The love of the Father is too great to separate us from You. I wonder where my brother is...if he's heard You speak in his night or if he's hardened his heart to conform to his own will. I wonder if he'll return to old patterns. I wonder when his hurt first began. Father right now I speak to the tornado's that they've got to go! For those surrounding Jen Bowen too, I speak be gone. And to the men who are being called to rise up and take their place I just speak destiny be imparted. Let Your love surround us all, bring us into the shadow of Your wings. Open our ears to hear the tenderness of Your heart towards those You love. Allure us with lovingkindness. Bind our indentities in You around our hearts so that we cannot be drawn by words to give up our place in You. And if you are reading this, join your own prayers to mine. We are one body, called for one purpose. Protect those on the outer fringes, draw them in by the reality of Your Spirit. Show them it's okay to let their fears go, and trust You. There is so much more You are wanting to give us. We just need to trust You. Father, poor out Your healing on rejected, abandoned hearts. I come against condemnation that might be resonating in their own minds. It's okay to let it go. He's the judge and He desires for his sons and daughters to run with Him, to rule with Him.
Tonight is for Blue (Blue is for You)

To Katie and Kim. Sometimes ya just gotta let it flow.

I will not pretend to know the depths of suffering that the human heart is capable of feeling. I have often wondered why pain? as many of us do. And the response to my question: a dark room with disjointed thoughts...silence...pain. The physical discomfort is almost a distraction to the mind's unaswered pleas. Still, it is better to cry out at the silent walls, to scream tears against the carpet, to wait for an answer in-between heaves. I have seen the opposite. I have seen the eyes blank, I have seen the mouth stiff, and the question irrelevant. I have seen mechanics with a paintbrush painting cogs as stars and a headlight for the sun. After they're done they pat one another on the back, call it a day, and wonder why they never make history. I have seen a heart eaten like another chicken leg, the bone tossed aside, to the dogs, the swine, the puppet master's crooked grin and his crooked knife, stained with yesterday's imperfection, leads to infection, an amputee, a refugee from the holiday promised with peace, good will, and prosperity. Yeah G, even you in your hard core, even you with your army brand and biceps, didn't you know? Pain is for. You, Pain is for the neighbor's stare when he licks his lips at your misfortune. Pain is for the misfortunate sleeping with cats just to stay warm. Pain is for the little girl when nothing could have changed the way he came and stayed till...Yes pain is for him too. But pain is still for you and me, for you and me next year when. But if it's not for you or you then probably neither is the morning after you thought this is it, I'm done. Cause it always comes, that sun and the blue and the night that tails another sunset. But oh the blue! Here it is, undone like green and yellow, melting pigments from the ducts of an eye. There's the true if you're wondering if pain is for you. It's not for everyone some tend to think. I think they've had the best of it and won't share with the rest of us that beautiful blue!

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Tornado's

I awoke from a dream recently during a short interval of sleep. In it I escaped a storm as great as any the eastern coast had seen. But its origins were not irregular weather patterns. Its origins existed in a basement room decorated with living flora and a wooden baby. A song began to play, mimicking the Light that is the One true God, and I knew instantly that a trap had been laid. A sloth-like woman rested near a window and was strangely connected to the happenings in the room. She spoke only once and her voice seemed to slow time, to disregard it. As I left the room, rejecting its curious pull to my own interest, the tornado's outside dissipated.

As I continue on my way, toward the mountains, I am grateful that those gray, spiraling winds existed in a realm only accessible to spirit beings. Although they are more difficult to spot, the fate of them has already been declared. They are defeated by an azure sky and the power of One who controls an army to end all armies. A feather floated into my path today. The thought occured to me, You're not alone. And isn't that the lie that seems to haunt most warriors? Sometimes we are asked to travel with a different company, an invisible company. And I am beginning to understand there are many flanking attacks that never touch us because of those to our left and our right and most importantly to our rear. Not only do we travel with them, often we are given the authority to command them. For the most part, my dreams have become like a road map. Something in the waking world might trigger a particular element from a recent or not so recent night message. In a way, it is a coded answer, a plan of action: listen to this truth, pray in this way, ignore this lie, watch for this attack. It is not always easy. But I am learning to respond more quickly and precisely. The test is easy: am I free or am I weighed down, discouraged? Usually the latter occurs when I have retreated. But our Commander is faithful to restore the banished ones.

So all I can do is pray this simple prayer. Lord, open my eyes to see the truth in battle. Set my eyes on You and remind me that You never change. You are Love, You are Peace. I am Your child; I am Your beloved; I am Your joy. Allow Your love to protect my judgments and actions. Secure my vision in love and illuminate the lies that are contrary to that love. Open my eyes to see Your heavenly host, to see You mighty in battle. And lead me to the quiet waters.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

First Impressions

It is 5:30 am and I am resting from "romping with joy in the bookish dark." "I have been eating poetry." What a great line! Here's my snapping fingers to you Mark Strand. Well, if I had to describe the first hints of The Land, as if looking through binoculars, I would say its mountains are not to be rivaled. They form a crescent wall along the southern border and extend on either side far beyond my sight. But these mountains are not ominous or tipped with ice. Perhaps in the north. I suspect they were put there as great watchers, discerners of light and dark, protectors of the lowlands across the border. I am still a ways away from reaching their soft, green feet. But I like to watch them in return, wondering if there are eyes staring back from the hidden peaks.

There is a woman with me, younger than I, and with child. She possesses a wildness that even challenges the names history can provide. A wildness that transcends imagination and boldness of speech to become action and a slap in the face of tradition. I would like to consider myself daring, a risk taker, but in comparison to this young girl, my feats are still within acceptable parameters. The name of her unborn child means peace. I cannot help but ponder the implications of that name. He is due to come soon, and has been prepared by his mother's care for arrival into this world. Growing, waiting until maturity would insure that he could continue to live and breathe. If I meet a river at the foot of those mountains, I will call it Peace. It is a warrior's hidden armor, like Frodo's mithril. Sound, resilient, and able to steady an anxious heart. There when the enemy's clever jibe bypasses your parry; able to withstand multiple attacks all at once. I am glad the woman and her child are with me on my journey. For now, I'll tuck away the binoculars and rest awhile.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

I should begin by first explaining that "The Land" is both a physical, tangible place that is, and a creative invention of my imagination through which I hope to work out the cherished events of life. Here, on the island of Blogspot, I will address the reality of both enemies and friends coexisting and interacting as they do. If you know me, and you find hints of yourself hidden or not so hidden here among my wanderings then please do not hesitate to ask. It's not my wish to snub anyone. I'll leave that to Hollywood's Oops! program. Just a side note, if you ever make it onto a television series that has long-lasting potential...don't quit. Richard Dean Anderson, aka Angus MacGyver and Jack O'Neill, you're the exception. The Land is a creation I am in the process of completing. And in the world that you and I live, it is a destination, an inheritance, and perhaps a little coastline cottage overlooking the bay of Innisfree. In the world that you and I live, I have yet to fully see that place. As my Faja says, the key is living in the now. Still, it's almost impossible to forget the future and to wonder if it will be anything like you imagine it to be. So, as I said previously, my postings are a means to understanding the greater scheme of things. Or at least an attempt to make sense of the seemingly meaningless, despairing, quirky occasions of the everyday. I invite you to come along with me.

Part of the draw of Sci-Fi for me is the exploration of new worlds. I am an avid follower of SG-1's advetures through the stargate. The intial anticipation of what will be discovered as they collect themselves from an intense molecular redepositing is at its most basic level like a child waking up on Christmas morning. The presents are there, just waiting to be found, examined, torn into. Pardon the cliche. If for you Santa is more of a childhood phantom than a warm distributor of joy then forgive me, once again. Personally, he was sort of hung before he ever made it to trial. I never found the myth of the Clause very appealing. Maybe if he was given a sword and had to battle with angry, flying, Christmas penguins. Do penguins have large tallons? Now that might be interesting. Besides, in my family everyone is accutely aware of where the wealth flows freely. Grandma. And I don't think she minds occupying that status.

Continuing on, there is a quality of the warrior in Samantha Carter, leader of the off-world explorations for SG-1, that I indentify with. She assesses situations quickly and wisely and takes action. Her will to survive and persevere through times of isolation from her team, broken legs and trailing bounty hunters is inspiring. Fighting can get messy, and she fails to realize that with her military skill there is an equal, if not greater, beauty that she possesses. I have come to realize that having the heart of a warrior takes only courage and passion. As long as you operate in those your enemy will eventually weaken and retreat. There is a scene in "The Silmarillion" which depicts the High Elven King Fingolfin and his bold confrontation with Morgoth, Sauron's lord:

But he (Morgoth) could not deny the challenge before the face of his captains; for the rocks rang with the shrill music of Fingolfin's horn, and his voice came keen and clear down into the depths of Angband; and Fingolfin named Morgoth craven and lord of slaves. Therefore Morgoth came, climbing slowly from his subterranean throne, and the rumour of his feet was like thunder underground. And he issued forth clad in black armour; and he stood before the King like a tower, iron-crowned, and his vast shield, sable unblazoned, cast a shadow over him like a stormcloud. But Fingolfin gleamed beneath it as a star; for his mail was overlaid with silver, and his blue shield was set with crystals; and he drew his sword Ringil, that glittered like ice. Then Morgoth hurled aloft Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld, and swung it down like a bolt of thunder. But Fingolfin sprang aside, and Grond rent a mighty pit in the earth, whence smoke and fire darted. Many times Morgoth essayed to smite him, and each time Fingolfin leaped away, as a lightening shoots from under a dark cloud; and he wounded Morgoth with seven wounds, and seven times Morgoth gave a cry of anguish, whereat the hosts of Angband fell upon their faces in dismay, and the cries echoed in the Northlands.