The Knocking and our missteps.

Falling Short

When want people to see us, we want them to see us, at our best.    But who is really ‘good’? And problems?  Everyone has those too.  Our goodness is relative anyway and goodness does not assure us of a totally happy existence.  And besides,  what do we really  know about each other?

Have you heard about the person who ALWAYS speaks his or her mind?   Usually they have very few friends and acquaintances who trust them.    And why do we tell people secrets,  as if we already knew they wouldn’t keep them?   Do we really enjoy the excitement of drama that is against us?

And how many times have we presumed to know what would be just a hypothetical?  That we would do such and such and say it always ‘them’?   The truth is,  we are all deceptive to one degree or another and this includes an inherent total depravity.   None of us wants to hear of our own weaknesses and dare I say it,  potential for evil?

Let’s face it,  we do at one point or another covet,  whether it is a person, a place or a thing.  That idyllic little something that would bring clarity and fulfillment and we would also do anything to get it?   I am no better and probably worse.   Though it is probably something that no one knows about.   Maybe some kinky sexual fantasy or an sudden impulse to break something.

It is also hard to accept that God may not want us.   He may simply pass us by and our relative goodness and our accumulated wealth would be for naught.  I believe at the very least we can have some perspective about us and others,  not assuming that our ‘goodness’ was not something intrinsic in us and that make our forever more agreeable.

The only intrinsic beauty is God.  A God who knows himself,  yet at the same time loves us.  He loves who he loves and who he doesn’t for whatever reasons is the way it is.  I am not being cavalier or judging your relative goodness or badness,  except to say,  we should practice good with God’s grace.

My cousin died at 22.  He was a very good man and it seems a shame.  But my opinion could never save him, due to an intrinsic flaw in all of us.   Look at story of the kids on an island.   At first life was harmonious but then human nature began to shape as it really is.   All I can say is be good and be humble and contrite.    And I am not saying be sad and that you cannot be happy most of the time,  but take it from me,  I am okay yet just as corrupt as anyone else, give or take.

Mark Twain

Gate Keepers

Gate Keepers

As we know more about a lot, we master nothing.    We toil and strive and then concede,  ultimately wallowing in the muck and mire of our own personal experiences.   We assume we are patently original,  suspiciously aware of our hypocrisy.    We claim we never lie and if we do then we do.

Sometimes in our youth,  we wish to cheat death or get as close as we can to that.  Impressing others of our bravado and recounting our glory years.    Like the song, ‘Those Were the Days My friend,   we thought they’d never end,   we sing and dance forever and a day.   We live the life we choose,  we fight and never lose,  those were the days,  oh yes, those were the days.’

There was a time in our life, when we romanticized love,  as if we were Romeo and Juliet,  or we might be Bonnie and Clyde.   We would make love as no one else could.   Like a Muse in a Xanadu,  we find our own reality,  as we move gracefully together.

But then something happened.  The Yellow brick road began to crumble and the house landed upon our love.   With a resounding thump and a crash of dishes,  our dreams faded like a late show re-run.

Those songs that inspired us,  were now a requiem,  sad and haunting.   Soon bitterness impaled our hearts and they become like stone.    And instead of skipping flat stones across a florid lake.

Florid Lake

So maybe we find a church ,   with a choir and we sing staid old songs,  as lifeless as a still-born dream.  We are reverent and judging,  but we judge others for their specks,  while redwoods roam in our eyes.

We can’t wait to leave and try to depart as soon as we can and we claim a god of opportunity to an end with no life,  like that old abandoned church.

We hear a knock from above,  wistful vapors of the unseen but our spirit consists of seeing images in an office building and tying meaning to a ship that never comes back.

It need not end this way.   In spite of unrequited love snatching us too early.  the knocks push upon us harder and the message is clear and unwavering.  Though all around are the indignant,  honest, godly church going people who flick ashes upon others.

We cannot find what we assumed was there until our hearts melt for the needs of forgiveness of our own missteps.   The harrowing nightmares we perpetrated on others,   while claiming some kind of victim-hood.

When we realize that we are there,  we will know we have arrived.   Our pretentions are like tumbleweeds drifting on a dusty road.   Yet in that abyss of faith,   we find ourselves trembling but more free.

Remember good is never good enough and if it will be,  it definitely be.  with no further side-slips on that precarious path.

 

Cruelty.

There was a boy in high school who was terribly mistreated.   He was born of incest and was severely disfigured.   One afternoon at lunch some of the kids were throwing pennies on the floor and watching him grovel.   He was so poor.   He was useless to them so I told them to stop hurting him and I gave him a dollar.   And hugged him.   I hope you are okay Chuckie!   I am so sorry for what they did.

Chuckie did not wanted to be born in that situation and the problem these days (even more so) is there are fewer people trying to defend the meek and virtually unwanted.    Eighty year old women wander the streets and I wonder where her kids are.   There is absolutely no reason for that,  even if that had grandchildren or great grandchildren to help.

I have often head comments to the effect that should stop ‘fucking’  because they are poor and I go off on anyone who says that.   I remind them they are not born because they chose to be born or where.    The Wheel of Fortune  was fortunate that day and it probably spun the next soul into the wormhole of reality.

 

This is reality not some imagined sleight by an ignorant asshole.   I would love to bitch slap those morons.    You use a Master Card or a Visa for ruby red lip stick or a case of Viagra.     Local news want you to think they actually care but people such as Cantore is self-promoting in a machismo effort to make you believe he is looking out for us.   What a laugh?   Like Benny Hinn and his hair piece plying dollars for unwitting and lonely.  The only wrong with many is a lack of hope.

Even TV has changed with many variations of misbehavior staged for our amusement because they say that is what we want?   Hey the Beverly Hillbillies poked fun at themselves while in Living Color parodied everyone and they gave the middle finger to the Politically Correct.    Shows of that nature seem to poke fun at themselves.   Not a white male or the redneck.    That term outside the trailer parks is meant in a way that just drives the knife deeper.

But that is my rant for tonight.   I am a bald-headed curmudgeon with milky eyes and frostbitten feet.    I look for an oasis to share with my naked and beautiful wife on an island.    I want a lot of grapes and maybe a dose of whip cream strategically placed.   I want to find a reason why we in that situation and never leave that place.    But I guess how can we know what pleasure feels like without some pain?

So I am clueless to whether poor Chuckie will ever know or care what has happened to him.   Maybe his bliss is more serene than our own.   All I know is you do NOT cast pennies to the hurting because those few pennies represent your soul.