Despair

I came across this in book of Celtic blessings and couldn't resist posting it. I thought it was just that good.
Here's what it says:


(Despair can be caused by crushing disappointments. Often, however, it is caused by painful experiences that lie deeply buried beneath the surface of our everyday consciousness. Sometimes, sanity-destroying flashbacks bring these to mind. If You get such a flashback, focus on the image of Christ being crucified, and say a blessing on yourself in this pit of despair.)

Christ of the agony
Christ of the bleeding
Christ racked and stretched out on the Tree
I place upon you my own agony
I place upon you my bleeding heart
I place upon you my despair.

Take it
Break it
Remake it
Your Tree of death became the Tree of Life;
Give your blessing of life to me.

daughter's writing

the breakdown of a breakdown

it starts with a thought
just a simple notion
then you can't let it go--
and this is the part where it all falls apart

your mind becomes wrapped
warped with this idea
twisting and turning it
until it consumes you

that initial lump forms
you try to swallow
it chokes you up--
and this is the part where it all falls apart

trying not to blink
letting everything blur
gripping your sides
holding back the heaves

that first tear falls
followed by more
the Breakdown has awakened--
and this is the part where it all falls apart

caught up in the moment
everything else disappears
consumed by that thought
this is your reality

searching for reassurance
there has to be some sense of light
frantically finding nothing--
and this is the part where it all falls apart

vulnerable and alone
embarrassed to have reached
such a weak state
this cannot be you

this lasts a brief period
the tears run dry
the body's worn down--
yes, this is what happens when it all falls apart

deep breath
its broken and uneven
wipe off your face
and compose yourself

some relief appears
having let out the Breakdown
its gone for now--
that is--the part where it all falls apart

My Harley

There is something special about my Harley
She was the One for me
I remember the day I walked into the showroom floor
I had been there many times before
And couldn’t make up my mind
Then the day came
My inheritance came
So I went to the dealership
And I saw her
And I bought her

Now I feel free every time I mount her
Every time the wind is in my face
When I am freezing
When I am sunburned
When I have traveled 700 miles
When I am alone
When I am riding two-up
I am free
and happy

Today I rode
and I smiled
I stopped
and I loved
I shared
and I was full

There is something about my Harley
that is therapy
for me
and for others
I look forward to many more sessions.

More from my daughter

She's just so good I've gotta post her stuff

one

one drop can overflow a glass--
streaming down the edge
racing across the condensation
sliding through the table cracks
puddling on the floor.

it doesn't take much
after years of burrowed pardons
to reach the breaking point.
it only takes
one.

second chance - by my daughter

everyday the sun will rise,
and likewise it will set.
everyday the birds will sing.
everyday the breeze will flow.

does one wake and thank the sun, the birds, the wind?
does one appreciate that which is always there, always expected?

what though, what would happen in the absence of these?
without the sun, the world is dark.
without the birds, the world is silent.
without the wind, the world is still.

one does not have a love affair with the earth.
alike, one does not long for such things within reach.
but when they are gone,
when the world is dark and silent and still,
the desire burns.

that flaw of human nature:
a want for what one cannot have.
only yearning for something once its gone.
yes, the desire burns deep.

self-resentment sinks in.
a hindsight view seems so clear.
why didn't one appreciate the sun's warmth before?
the bird's song is beautiful;
the wind's breeze, refreshing.

too little too late,
there is nothing one can do.
what is gone, is gone.
such a painful reality.

a new tattoo

Today finally came. I had been waiting to get this tattoo for some time and after a few income bursts I ended up with a little extra cash in my pocket and decided it was time for a new tattoo. Jesus is often depicted as an effeminate white dude in a robe carrying a lamb on his shoulders. This is not the carpenter who worked with his hands that scripture describes. This is not the guy who scared the sit out of the money changer in the temple. Today, tattoo #7 (the number of perfection) joined my body as badass Jesus. This is the kind of guy I could worship. This is the kind of guy who inspires others to follow.

So let me tell of the process. While I had much anticipation about this there was a little apprehension as well. I know these things hurt. In fact, I think it’s stupid when people ask if they hurt. Did they not wear a helmet as a child? Of course they hurt. A needle is dipped into ink and then repeatedly it outlines or fills a part of your skin with the ink. Fuck yeah it hurts. But it is a good kind of hurt. There is a heat and tickling sensation. Pain and pleasure are mixed in equal parts as you make a permanent statement with your body. Back to what happened today. Megan of Galaxy Ink in Ashland (go see her) shaved my calf and then applied the stencil she made. After filling in any marks that did not transfer she began the outline, words first then the face of Jesus. This hurt and felt good at the same time. I could see the skin raise into welts as the ink and needle did their magic. When the outline was finished she changed needle tips to one that had more needles for the shading process. She filled in all of the blank parts taking breaks every so often to wipe it down with what I term “wonder juice”. Not sure what this stuff is but I know it feels nearly as good as the climax of an orgasm as she wipes clean the area she has been working on and the cooling relief of this is immediate (I may have even moaned). There were areas of more intense pain, particularly toward the end but what a gift this was to have placed on my body.

A sacrament is an outward sign of an inward eternal grace. Today I received my seventh sacrament on my body. Thank God!

More writing from my daughter

A Friend Forgotten

What happens to a friend forgotten?

Does their smile fade away
like an empty bottle at sea?
Or dare to shine--
hoping to be missed?

Does their hope sink
like a brick in water?
Or harden the heart--
like a neglected child?

Maybe they just evaporate
like the morning dew.

Or do they reappear?

My daughter's writing

This is too good not to post

This was written by my oldest daughter:

a lost ambition

a pain so deep
time never truly heals
scars will form
and forever remind

walls are built
ever higher
daring to tear them down
an impossible task

so much beauty
misabused by fools
unknowing of
a permanent damage

unfair disadvantages lie
to those farther down the road
wanting only to love
but never given the chance

robbed of that opportunity
so deserved, but incapable
nothing else is desired
nor should it be

seeking only good
apart from the past
how though to prove
this time will be different?

such a large task
ambitious really
to think one can tear down
walls so long in place

after failure upon failure
the question is faced:
to persevere
or to walk?

shall one show love
in the darkest of times
prove a light
still exists

or is it enough
pain overwhelms
forcing a retreat
and accepting failure

the latter is decided
the less noble
head hung low
an empty handed quest

a return to nothingness
a lonely position
seeking only love
but receiving nothing in return

wanting to blame such fools
for ruining a beautiful opportunity
for creating such destruction
with no consequence to them at all

anger arises
amidst a flood of emotions
no one fully occupies
the consciousness

an irony takes place
in seeking to show love
oneself becomes injured
a heartbreak leaves a deep wound

the adventurer
becomes the recluse
their own wounds scar
their own walls rise

a vicious cycle
needing to be broke
hear me now, Hope! Love!
come light,
come

racism

I am sitting watching one of the most intense movies ever. tears keep coming to my eyes as I watch the hatred portrayed on the screen. Ed Norton is a great actor but the subject matter is almost too much to bear. i see this hatred and think about the people I love. I think about the beauty of their skin, the warmth in their eyes and the shit that they have to put up with that I will never have to, that I cannot comprehend, and that is part of who I am. hatred sucks whatever is the motivation and whatever is your race. what we need to hate is the things that God hates. we need to cry God’s tears. i know that my kids don’t see color and that makes me proud. I wish I could say the same thing for the rest of the world but I cannot. it hurts. I cry. I love.