Grace – Page 95

There have been so many

There have been so many –

things done that are simply not right.

people deprived of life for no good reason.

lies told to ruin others just to have … to have what … the lie that one did nothing wrong?

processes used to reinforce that there is no justice or grace?

perversions demanded with no understanding of the hell that was?

hopes beyond hope that are still waiting for next year, next year in Jerusalem.

loves and life giving beliefs that are perverted to rob so many of life.

deaths … senseless deaths … just because they could … and never have to be accountable.

travels that bring one so far and yet one stays all too close, and

travels that bring one almost nowhere, and yet one stays oh so far distant.

resurrections … only because life is more powerful than death.

renewed hope that someday … next year in Jerusalem … the truth will be revealed,

and understood,

and acted upon … with grace.

Matthäus 10.27ff

Menschenfurcht und Gottesfurcht

²⁷Was ich euch sage in der Finsternis, das redet im Licht; und was ihr hört in das Ohr, das predigt auf den Dächern.
²⁸Und fürchtet euch nicht vor denen, die den Leib töten, und die Seele nicht können töten; fürchtet euch aber vielmehr vor dem, der Leib und Seele verderben kann in der Hölle. ²⁹Kauft man nicht zwei Sperlinge um einen Pfennig? Dennoch fällt deren keiner auf die Erde ohne euren Vater. ³⁰Nun aber sind auch eure Haare auf dem Haupte alle gezählt. ³¹So fürchtet euch denn nicht; ihr seid besser als viele Sperlinge.

There have been so many …

but no pictures can make it right.

Nothing can make it right, except that …

that one remembers everything, and treats the Täter as if the Tat were not.

Doch

there is life and hope that next year in Jerusalem

21:56 Sundown Lovely

As the time rolls by

As the light recedes

As the future disappears

We see the basics of life become impossible

and then we hear that there are so many people

who have so much less,

even nothing,

who still are kind and happy.

Who do we think we are?

What have we become?

Expecting

fresh air

clean water

three meals each day

warm clothes

a home that keeps the bugs and rain and snow and cold at bay so that we

can remain gracious humans instead of like wild animals ferociously fighting for every bit of life available to be taken from others,

and meaningful work, that provides income and purpose,

and love, to be loved for what we are and to love others,

even our enemies,

…

and this is life, to breathe and wonder and hope that one day ….

Trees, Trees, Light, Water, Hope

Trees, Trees, Light, Water, Hope

That’s the spot, where the borrowed trailer sits for the nights, when for a few brief hours the sun sets and the coyotes howl and the rains … well they did not do anything, but the bugs invaded like the empire’s drones.

The marvel is the trees and trees and trees backlit by the sun and water reflections pouncing in upon one’s thoughts as if …

As if the forest of trees and under-bush had come alive to welcome one to the healing refuge of nature or to warn one of what the (2 legged) wildlife had planned for one.

Drawn to the light like moths to a candle the breathing of the light overpowers ones vision and capacity to see clearly what is in store … What will the process ahead entail?

Will Grace and Forgiveness win out, or will judgment and condemnation ruin the days and lives of so many?

It is much more difficult to see the simplicity of love which unconditionally takes in everything about the other, every nook and cranny of Scheißheit and still turns, to give so that it is as if the Schieße Idiotische Irrtümliche Freaking Blödheit simply was not. Not to demand anything, but to make, out of one’s own sacrifice, the reality that the other is acknowledged to have done exactly what is done, and yet the other is treated as if … as if it were not so. It is much more difficult to see the simplicity of love so far beyond the complexity of horrendous things done redeemed by one’s own sacrifice … this is so much more difficult than it is to take in the lies as excuses to create more lies of false condemnations. Girard saw it clearly; we like teenagers gather for mass attacks and derogation of a poor victim who has done nothing other than be, we even adults swarm upon the one selected as our collective victim and against all logic viciously ruin that one. And released of our mass hysteria hidden so well in our civility, we feel we’ve done right to end the stress and we return to peace. A peace more dangerous than outright war, for the real villain lies within us hidden and nearly undiscoverable, ready to direct us against yet another unaware victim.

It used to be women. Now we’ve become politically correct and we do it to men. Especially men who are honest about what they’ve suffered.

The light, on the far side of complexity is revealing that lives are at stake.

Even knowing all that we are still surprised by the light upon the water from which life arose and upon which life depends each day, even hour. This light dazzles us and charms us into forgetting.

Forgetting is not forgiving. Forgetting is to have plaque on the brain, or plaque on the heart, so that one lives in a fantasyland, as if things were somehow different than they are. Truth is each of us beyond hope, lost from any blessed acceptance by anyone who ultimately matters.

But if we do not forget, if we remember, if we remember not with the poignancy of the pain of the Scheißheit that has been done to us, but remember knowing that it does no longer determine one’s life, nor need to determine the other’s life, so we remember without feeling the pain still, but knowing then and now we choose to move into the next moment of the present moving into the past, to move with grace and acceptance, not of the Scheißheit, but of the lovely person who did it to us.

And that

That is not simple, it is not the complexity of reality good and evil, it is past all layers and webs of complexity of black holes and supernovas that destroy life, back into the blessed breath and wind that brings new life even to the ravages thought to be impossibly lost, dead and gone.

This Simplicity is the light of truth; harsh in what it reveals and delicately soft in how it reflects each of us to the other, as a slow waltz encapsulates the love of years, new this moment again.

And then the water, the water that gave and gives life beginning and sustenance. Water that surrounds the rocks that could and would destroy everything, including life itself, allowing the water to swallow what it gave birth to. Water that is the cooling best of a hot hot day, and here the relief of bugs biting literally sucking the essence of life out of us.

The water gives and sustains life …

But the light made visible in the clouds spanning the sky draw wonder from our burden laden hearts, until

Until we see the light

And seeing the light we see the clouds

And seeing the clouds we know the storm to come

And knowing the storm to come we breathe easy in our preparations and survival of the last storm of chaos.

And

Breathing easier for the last survived and the next prepared for we hope …

And hope

Hope

Hope is the spark of life without which we die, shrivelled up in apathy and disregard for the life of others.

Hope is the spark of love that saves us from the animal survival instincts that turn others into prey and ourselves into combatants that must win at all costs to whomever.

Hope, we see hope in the world, and we can breathe.

But it is the other, committed to love and life,

Forgiveness even through the possible future of forgetfulness of age,

To making the other’s strengths shine and their weakness compensated for, so that life is GOOD!

It is the beloved who honours life, not out of irrational fear, but out of hope in self and the beloved. Standing shoulder to shoulder, taking on the challenges of life even when they seem insurmountable, and hoping against hope that all will be well, all will be well, all manner of things shall be well.

What Gets Your Goat?

What gets your goat?

A simple question: and the answer to this one is a short hike up a lonely hill with camera to watch, and find and shoot the goat … with the camera, of course.

What gets your goat?

Climbing a short and steep, well-travelled, but still deserted, hike out into the mountains, this goat just showed up over the top of the horizon hiding the expansive river valley behind her.

She posed, and then circled around me, closer with each step, not challenging me, but as if to show off, assured I was no danger, coming within a few yards of me.

What gets my goat is – people who circle around your life, playing with you, posing for the famous shot to get everything out of you they can even if that means you are left with nothing or worse, unable to survive. For it is all about their image and reputation; that someone must pay for their mistakes so that they can appear to be without blemish.

The walks that day and the next gave us wonderful views, and great photos of crocuses, a favourite ever since they used to grow up the hillside on our land, always a challenge to photograph well.

What gets my goat is – people who take beauty, hard won and paid for with forgiveness and love, diligence and hope, based on trust and promises … and systematically destroy it so that it can never be found again, so that next spring, they just will not blossom for fear, real fear of what will happen next.

As I returned to the path, the goat already ahead of me across the path, she turned one last time to look, to inquire, to insure I was no danger, to pose, knowing if I was even half decent she’d have her photo immortalized.

For the short life of a goat leaves little in memorial.

What gets my goat is – people who take all that is the memory of a person, and through manipulation, deceit and outright lies, trash it, so that there appears to be nothing left of the person, and instead the lies create a monster of that person, a lie, but one that is who people think they meet and deal with when they see this person.

A wise person, fictional but still wise, said that the one thing to ensure as you choose a spouse is that the person is kind.

What gets my goat is – people who pretend to be kind, but try to kill you, and when that does not work ruin you, and blame you for what they are doing to you.

This person, no matter how you frame it, is wise and honest, loyal and hopeful, is above all things, kind and gracious. That makes for life that is beautiful.

It does not make life easy or simple or even guaranteed; but it does make for life that is beautiful.

What gets my goat is – people who are very intelligent and persevere at making sure they win at everything no matter the cost to others, even children, people who guarantee only other people’s destruction.

This is simple beauty.

Simple on the far side of complexity, the complexity of emerging early, even as frost still haunts the nights, and snow easily falls; at an altitude that is though easily attained still not quickly, and then one must bend low in humility and peer as one normally and simply cannot between the grass blades that become obstacles or makers of a photo … and then to focus as focus cannot even be easily seen.

To know where the focus is, not outside but deep within.

What gets my goat is – people who only see the world through a fully reductionist approach, discounting all the information of truth and reality until they can justify declaring lies to be truths, deception to be light, and the person abused and killed to be responsible for all the fallout. Experts who have the degrees and with the adeptness of a sociopath set out to declare imaginary things to be reality, who twist and turn love-and-trust-and-forgiveness-and-hope into accusations of delusion, to make whole and laudable people and efforts seem to be ugly; simply because they cannot see beyond the grass and twigs to focus on reality which is very beautiful.

The view up close …

What gets my goat is – people who do not see to the horizon and beyond, so they never know the reality that is skewed to create deceptions deadly.

The view less up close …

What gets my goat is – people who cannot change their perspective to see reality.

The view starting to look through the trees up close …

What gets my goat is – people who cannot see the trees for what they are, nor have the courage to look through to see the horizon. And worse, they think because they do not have the courage to even try to see past the trees, that others who do are either stupid, wrong, or insane.

The view looking through and past the trees up close …

What gets my goat is – people who do not know the beauty of the people up close and the crowds that make up the community and the world of grandeur. It may be unreachable and unfathomable but it can be seen and seen to be beautiful, even promising.

The view of the mountains framed by the trees up close …

What gets my goat is – when I cannot see the frame, nor the distant beauty.

The view of the distant mountains without losing touch with the trees up close …

What gets my goat is – people who cannot see what is up close, nor what is the context of what is close, who make what is up close into something it is not, and who ignore that is the environment. And they destroy everything trying to make sure they are determined to be right … even when they are so wrong.

There are lots of paths to follow, through the beauty of the trees, some paths deeply trodden and marked by wheels, others barely visible at all.

What gets my goat is – people who think that deceiving others into believing the well-trodden paths are the only paths to take, because true kindness, grace, self-sacrifice, forgiveness, love and promise are often barely chosen, or stuck to very long, for the brambles are high and thick on these seldom traversed paths.

The view, amidst the grass, of beauty emerging promising even more … and many promises not so obviously, more blossoms so tiny, yet emerging.

What gets my goat is … people who cannot see promise as hope, hope as the only guarantee to be trusted, and love as the only thing that has lasting value. Instead they crucify others trying to force hope, trust, and love from money, things or winning.

God save us … all.

Enjoy the view, relaxing in what is provided.

There is beauty even if people get my goat so commonly. People are beautiful, even though they are ugly mean at the same time.

April Skiing

April Skiing

Out on the flats, the spring snow covers what was bare most of the winter and the skiing is smooth, not so cold and wonderfully sunny.

Then the sky clouds over with billows and pillows and I’m without my camera.

The view is too large to capture, but with stitching it comes together, but the lines are evidence the cell phone is not up to the job of careful stitching.

Just to be sure of a somewhat good photo, the sky as much as possible is captured without stitching.

The sky, my dear the sky, is alive with all that can be.

It is only a few who are missing out on the joy.

Small towns, big ideas, great hopes, reality is narrow.

Simple Spring Snow

Simple Spring Snow
As the heavens poured out the white, winter, down-duvet-split-open-softness on to our heads and campsite and woods the colours and light danced so quietly
as my boots crunched, the water gurgled and Karin’s beer spray protected us all from invisible rye and malt humour.

So is the bed of peace and hope.

There are a few children missing, but nothing more than what is being done can be done. So pray with us, for us, for them.

There are views of life that are so subtly similar, yet a step to the right, left or ahead provide a completely different perspective, seeing in through the cracks that are in everything the light that is Grace and Hope.

The Trees, alive with light on the walk out of the warmth into the wilderness.

Water the source of life, the wonder of life, the beauty of life. Green. Why?

Not because it’s cold, but because it is not cold enough to keep the glaciers from melting.

Glowing, white streams in the green of gorgeous. Can you see it here, too?

The River looking onto it from various points, perspective that changes light and subject, all the same yet completely different.

Turtles, of the snacking kind were at the table the night before, and here they appear again, a bit molded and quiet, looking not to be eaten anymore.

The soft look of fallen snow and fog on the mountains beyond the river.

Rocks … below and …

Rocks below … and …

Rocks beyond …

The River Upstream

Turning 180°

More turtles and …

Rocks and …

Rocks … until …

There are no more rocks in view as one looks downstream to Pyramid Mountain.

The path back to coffee and breakfast.

As the snow hangs tight but loosened by melting, waffles wait with syrup from trees and butter enough.

The light and the drips of water frozen in place the evening before.

The Pine trees up-close, frozen mid-drip.

The victory.

April Fool’s Sunset

Nothing of a Fool’s Day took hold this day.

I simply returned to a sunset over familiar territory, wishing it would be well, all well, most marvelously well, again.

The sun disappeared early behind some clouds and I ran to catch the light before it was all gone. Just minutes after the first this was so different.

Out on the lake the melt of the last few days have recorded every vehicle’s path and movement, soon enough to all disappear into the liquid of the returning lake water.

The expanse of light reflecting ice tracks under the wedge of broken clouds held one in awe, that this light was available all around.

And then this is truly all around.

One can of course play, and playing create something not real, but at least a bit interesting.

Walking on Water, for Real!

Walking on Water
Year in and out after the lakes freeze solid enough we all can walk on water, or ice.

But the spring days when a melt is on and the ice is still VERY thick, though covered with water, the ability to walk on real water, with ice beneath it by a few inches is simply that much more delightful.

The light at sunset after a hard day working give opportunity to see the light from above and below, and behind the grasses standing tall even after a long winter.

Threesome.

More some.

My perfect lodging for the evening, to stay in the clear air, watch the lake at night, and sleep in the great quiet. Later when it warms the beach will be crowded, but for now … solitude.

And a peaceful night.

Sunset Break

Sunset

Simple

Quiet

Light

Lake

Tree

Track

B&W Track

S Tree

B&W S Tree

Wife – Grace-filled, Dancer, Companion …

60 years in the making, finally a photo

Time

Passes

Most of us by

At a ferocious pace.

So it took a few days to catch up to put these on the blog.

I wake on this day so long in coming, and out the door I step with bathrobe, boots, parka, hat, gloves, and camera, to the stillness of heart, mind and world that only the wilderness can afford.