For those that want to know…

There are some people in life that will stop at nothing to have things their own way. They’ll do anything, say anything, teach anything, and believe anything.


There are some people in life, that think they belong to the thought police. They are adept invokers of the cultish practices of doublethink, crimestop, crimethink, and blackwhite.


There are some people in life, that believe things, things they know or are afraid that can’t be supported by facts or logic; they hold onto them so tightly, so religiously (if you will), that if you approach them and ask them to reconsider, they begin to act like cornered dogs. They bite, they nip, they growl, they bark. Foaming at the mouth, they become possessed. Will they reason with you? No! Will they talk with you? No! They shut you out, they shut you up, they try to discredit you, they use whatever is within their power to try and control you (or those around you).


There are some people that work in the shadows, they hide behind the trees, they hide behind the rocks, they slink back, and when you pass by, and they pounce and stab. Or, there are even those, who are worse. They will use propaganda, they will regurgitate untruths, they will stick them to your back, they will pass them around to your friends, they make sure to conceal the truth, they twist mind’s, they twist themselves, they are contortionists, or better yet, extortionists.


There are some people that want you to believe something so strongly, that they force it down your throat. They jam it, they cram it. They are in such a frenzied state of mind that they don’t even hear that you are choking; don’t even see that you are turning blue. They don’t even feel the anger, the hate, and the resentment that is welling up inside of you.


There are some people that won’t talk to your face, only to your back, and only if you can’t hear them. They claim that you are a troublemaker, and a problem causer, and they do this by running around and spreading trouble and problems that they focus on you.


I am none of these things; I will tell you to your face, I will try to tell it as it is, as I see it. I will promote thought and thinking, reasoning and logic. I won’t hide in the shadows – I will speak in public, I have nothing to hide. I provide a meal, but I won’t force you to eat. I provide an ear, but I won’t force you to talk. I provide friendship; use it as and if you will.


And above all, for those who are of the Spy’s and the Thought Police themselves – I am guilty of thought-crime, my name is Emmanuel Goldstein.

A Tree

Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918

Trees

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

The days of past – Nostalgic

We went to the Augusta Museum on Friday. All I can say is wow! Every time I go there, I am just overwhelmed with nostalgic.


Now, let me start by saying that in reality, I am very glad that we have moved so far into the age we are in (I mean, I love technology), but I can’t help but being sad.


I am reminded of the ‘days gone by’, right before me; days that I hardly remember, days my children will never see. An age where both men and women had special skills, working with their hands, bringing forth magnificent works of art, bringing into the economy things that were needed for everyday life, and a few things that even brought pleasure.


I looked over little shops in the corner of a wall setup to mimic where people would heat and bend iron making so many wonderful things – wow, i bet it was hard, back breaking labor – but when you were done, you could admire what you had done, see it, feel it.


I saw wood working shops, where people built desks, cabinets, I saw sewing shops, I saw shoe maker shops.


My head was filled with information on these businesses as they started in Maine, as some grew to the point of having thousands of workers, and then as they replaced these workers with machinery (or in some cases, low-paid Mexican workers from another country).


Even the woolen mill was sad. I had a job in a woolen mill about 15 or so years ago – I remember the sights, the sounds, the smells, the feeling of accomplishment working with your hands. They’re all gone. Distant past – in a museum. My children will never experience the excitement; my children will never experience the aura.


What happened to the days of “White Christmas”, the feeling of home and family?


And while I’m thinking about it, what happened to childhood.


It makes me sad, and I’m getting old, I guess.

Lost…


Sometimes, when young, something goes wrong in your life and you go down a path of self destruction…



Farther climbing out of sight


I do not even


Remember light


And where it comes from


Why it’s here,


Tasting sick deaths


Lovely beer


Intoxicates and follows through


And now my friend


If you only knew


What happens when


The lights go out


With scorching screams


And lemon shouts


To run from life


To run from home


To leave all known


I’ve ever known


So find my end,


Upon the rocks


Then climb inside


My wooden box!



©1996 Jediah Logiodice

Why do they call us consumers?

My professor asked me a question today, he said:


I study a lot about metaphors and “consuming” and “consumer” as we use these terms today especially interest me. But what do you think of this: We don’t “consume” computers or cars, we “use” them. But when computer and car companies think of their customers, they speak of them as “consumers.”



Here was my response…


What they are trying to sell us, is not so much a product, but an idea. We consume their rhetoric, their ideals, and their sales pitches. Day in and day out, we are hypnotized to think we need products to be fulfilled, to be independent, or to be satisfied.

I think in this way – we are all consumers.

Do you know a hypocrite


Define: Hypocrisy is the act of condemning or calling for the condemnation of another person when the critic is guilty of the act for which he demands that the accused be condemned.


Where is the eternal destiny of a hypocrite?


(Mat 24:50) The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of.(Mat 24:51) He will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.


Please tell me if you ever see me being hypocritical….

Th house of mourning


(Ecc 7:2) It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.


Perhaps the teacher, son of David was a universalist, or a annihilationist, because it is not always better to go to a house of mourning….


I am on my way to a friends funeral in just a short while – as far as I know, he never accepted Christ, I invited them to Church a few times, but they never came. He was a very compassionate, friendly and caring person. Sure, he had his flaws, as we all do.


It’s moments like now that bring you back to earth; and make you want to question.


If only we could see things from begining to end.



-Gene

Do you surrender all?

In my Humanities course I was asked to comment on this story.



“A man went on a walk one day along the edge of a cliff, as he often did. This day, however, a strong wind came and blew him over the edge. Before falling to his death, he managed to grab a shrub. There he dangled, too weak to climb back up; his fate certain. Then he spied a beatiful flower nearby. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The image of this flower seized him. Its brilliant blossom, its shape and size, its colors, its scent, its intricate design; for the few moments he had left, he caught a vision of absolute beauty. His grasp weakened, and he fell to his death.”



Here are my comments:



“It is said that in death, all things become clear.” – (Dan Brown, Digital Fortress)

It is unfair that I can’t comment on Tolstoy yet (or can I). 🙂

For now, I’ll stick with Dan Brown’s illustration. In our lives we spend so much time trying to get to a target destination that we often forget to enjoy the scenery on the way. When facing our ultimate demise, when facing the final rung on the ladder (so to speak), when, as humans, we are forced to come to the realization that our time on this earth is indefinite, when we come face to face with that realization, there is inevitably the awakening of the inner soul. The point where one begins to look around and realize what is most important. While not everyone can, or will undergo this during their lifetime (or even at the point of death), it is at the point of this surrender that all things become clear, and life has been put into perspective.

In reading this story, I have to wonder, as often as this young man had walked on this cliff, had he ever stopped to take the time to enjoy the breeze, the smells, the sounds, and the loftiness of the heights below him? How often do you think he passed that flower, just within view (or perhaps even reach), and yet, he had never seen its likes.

Studying the humanities gives me the opportunity to learn how to appreciate even the most simple and wonderful things about the world around me. Over the years, I have been a work-a-holic, driven and mad trying to control my own destiny, and make of the world, what I want it to be. Through this study, I hope to learn to better live my life, in what Bob Jacks in his book “Divine Appointments” calls “relaxed anticipation”. I hope to find more direction within myself to, as the colloquial statement goes: Learn to stop and smell the roses. I desire to come to the point of surrender, before I’m holding onto the edge of a cliff, waiting to take the plunge into the unknown.

Is it well?

This is a true story – I have copied it from http://chi.gospelcom.net/GLIMPSEF/Glimpses/glmps064.shtml.


May the Lord always give me the comfort to say “It is well with my Soul”, no matter the circumstance…



In the 1870s Horatio Spafford was a successful Chicago lawyer and a close friend of evangelist Dwight L. Moody. Spafford had invested heavily in real estate, but the Chicago fire of 1871 wiped out his holdings. His son had died shortly before the disaster.


Spafford and his family desperately needed a rest so in 1873 he planned a trip to Europe with his wife and four daughters. While in Great Britain he also hoped to help Moody and Sankey with their evangelistic tour. Last minute business caused Spafford to delay his departure, but he sent his wife and four daughters on the S. S. Ville Du Havre as scheduled, promising to follow in a few days. On November 22 the ship was struck by the English ship Lochearn, and it sank in twelve minutes. Several days later the survivors landed at Cardiff, Wales, and Mrs. Spafford cabled her husband the brief message, “Saved alone.”


When Horatio Spafford made the ocean crossing to meet his grieving wife, he sailed near the place where his four daughters had sunk to the ocean depths. There, in the midst of his sorrow, he wrote these unforgettable words that have brought solace to so many in grief:




When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.


Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.