Head-dibs

500 years ago today, a man made a public post that made him the "unfriend" of many for his post ignited a revolution that was already waiting to happen. Someone merely needed to open the door, as it were. Many lost their lives because of his post but more lives were changed because of it. Yes, long before the advent of the internet and social media those kinds of things happened. Augustinian monk Martin Luther (1483 – 1546) did not agree with the Church's practice of selling salvation (among other practices). Already quite religious, Luther thought he understood most Bible doctrines until he began actually read scripture in order to teach it. His practice had been to simply do and think as he was taught, to believe as he was told. Since reading the Bible he could no longer agree and wanted to address errors being propagated by the Church so he literally protested by publicly posting his grievances. He wanted to talk. And so began the Protestant Reformation.  Listen ...

"A thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy. But I came to give life—life that is full and good." (John 10:10) "Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to fall, and I am not indignant? If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness. The God and Father of the Lord Jesus, he who is blessed forever, knows that I am not lying. At Damascu...

In raiment coarse and rough endued A cord his only ceinture rude With scanty measure for his food His feet withal unshod For the poverty of Christ he yearns From earthly splendor he dost turn This noble troubadour has spurned Despising all for God Within a mountain cave alone He hides to weep and lying prone He prays aloud with sigh and groan For peace to fill his heart New signs of highest sanctity Singing praise exceedingly Beautiful and wondrous to see The troubadour to sing The troubadour of the Great King Then seraph-like in heaven’s height The King of Kings appears in sight His soul in passion’s awesome night Beholds the vision dread For it bears the wounds of Christ and lo While gazing on a speechless woe The hidden marks upon his soul Now wound his flesh blood red His body now like the Crucified Signed on hands and feet and side Transformed in life to love and die With Jesus Christ our Lord New signs of highest sanctity Singing praise exceedingly Beautiful and wondrous to see...

I'm sailing down the summer wind I got whiskers on my chin And I like the mood I'm in As I while away the time of day In the lee of Christian Island Tall and strong she dips and reels I call her Silver Heels And she tells me how she feels She's a good old boat and she'll stay afloat Through the toughest gales and keep smiling But for one more day she would like to stay In the lee of Christian Island I'm sailing down the summer day Where fish and seagulls play I put my troubles all away And when the gale comes up I'll fill my cup With the whiskey of the highlands She's a good old ship and she'll make the trip From the lee of Christian Island Tall and strong she slips along I sing for her a song And she leans into the wind She's a good old boat and she'll stay afloat Through the toughest gales and keep smilin' When the summer ends we will rest again In the lee of Christian Island When the summer ends we will rest again In the lee of Christ...

"I tossed about until Charley grew angry with me and told me 'Ftt' several times . But Charley doesn't have our problems. He doesn't belong to a species clever enough to split the atom but not clever enough to live in peace with itself. He doesn't even know about race, nor is he concerned with his sister's marriage. It's quite the opposite. Once Charley fell in love with a dachshund, a romance racially unsuitable, physically ridiculous and mechanically impossible. But all these problems Charley ignored. He loved deeply and tried dogfully. It would be difficult to explain to a dog the good and moral purpose of a thousand humans gathered to curse one tiny human. I've seen a look in dog's eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts." (Steinbeck, p. 269)

Theodore Roosevelt best remembered as the 26th president of the United States was born this day (Oct. 27) 1858. But he was so much more than the President. He shaped this country in ways that many will never know, for he was a man who studied life. Early in his own life, though times of personal fragility when life expectancy was not very high, Roosevelt's fascination with the world in which he lived laid a foundation of what grew to be an uncanny strength. It might be argued there are four kinds of hunters, the first being the kind that hunt for food. The second kind of hunter are those that hunt for sport, for the challenge of acquiring a trophy. The third kind of hunter is the kind that sought to understand the world. The fourth and final kind of hunter are those that  that don't know what they are doing . Period.  Roosevelt was very much the first three, but the third (The Naturalist) was the core of his being. He hunted to understand, foremost. He collected. He r...

Photo Credit: Goshawk Communications Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there’s nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon, Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar? Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it, Searched the Vastness for a something you have lost? Have you strung your soul to silence? then for God’s sake go and do it; Hear the challenge, learn the lesson, pay the cost. Have you wandered in the wilderness, the sagebrush desolation, The bunch-grass levels where the cattle graze? Have you whistled bits of rag-time at the end of all creation, And learned to know the desert’s little ways? Have you camped upon the foothills, have you galloped o’er the ranges, Have you roamed the arid sun-lands through and through? Have you chummed up with the mesa? Do you know its moods and changes? Then listen to the Wild — it’s calling you. Have you know...

"Even if you’re going to live three thousand more years, or ten times that, remember: you cannot lose another life than the one you’re living now, or live another one than the one you’re losing. The longest amounts to the same as the shortest. The present is the same for everyone; its loss is the same for everyone; and it should be clear that a brief instant is all that is lost. For you can’t lose either the past or the future; how could you lose what you don’t have? Remember two things: i. that everything has always been the same, and keeps recurring, and it makes no difference whether you see the same things recur in a hundred years or two hundred, or in an infinite period; ii. that the longest-lived and those who will die soonest lose the same thing. The present is all that they can give up, since that is all you have, and what you do not have, you cannot lose." (Marcus Aurelius, "Meditations" 2:14)

What would you like on your headstone? What would your epitaph be? I pray mine would not be some trite witticism but something that says, "Yep! Without doubt, that's him." Edgar Lee Masters pondered life and death in his poem, "George Gray." I have studied many times  The marble which was chiseled for me--  A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.  In truth it pictures not my destination  But my life.  For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;  Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;  Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.  Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.  And now I know that we must lift the sail  And catch the winds of destiny  Wherever they drive the boat.  To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,  But life without meaning is the torture  Of restlessness and vague desire--  It is a boat longing f...

Everett Ruess, 1914- 1934 (Presumed dead) "I have not tired of the wilderness; rather I enjoy it's beauty and the vagrant life I lead, more keenly all the time. I prefer the saddle to the street car and the star sprinkled sky to a roof, the obscure and difficult trail, leading into the unknown, to any paved highway, and the deep peace of the wild to the discontent bred by cities . . . Say that I starved; that I was lost and weary; That I was burned and blinded by the desert sun; Footsore, thirsty, sick with strange diseases; Lonely and wet and cold . . . but that I kept my dream!"

Did you ever have a longin’ to get out and buck the trail, And to face the crashin’ lightnin’ and the thunder and the gale? Not for no partic’lar reason but to give the world the laugh, And to show the roarin’ elyments you still can stand the gaff. Don’t you ever feel a yearnin’ just to try your luck again Down the rippin’ plungin’ rapids with a bunch of reg’lar men? Don’t you ever sorta hanker for a rough and risky trip, Just to prove you’re still a livin’ and you haven’t lost your grip? Can’t you hear the woods a-callin’ for to have another try Sleepin’ out beneath the spruces with a roof of moonlit sky, With the wind a sorta singin’ through the branches overhead And your fire a gaily crackin’ and your pipe a-glowin’ red? Don’t you often get to feelin’ sorta cramped and useless there, Makin’ figgers and a-shinin’ your pants upon a chair? Don’t you yearn to get acquainted once again with Life and God? If you don’t, then Heaven help you, for you’re a dyin’ in yer pod...

Orionid Meteor Shower 2017: When, Where & How to See It This Weekend Bundle Up!

My string career began in 6th grade (I played trombone for a short while in 5th) and was nurtured through High School by Mrs. Llewellyn. Over the summer breaks, Mrs. L. made me tapes to keep me inspired and practicing. One of those tapes contained a recording of Elgar's Cello Concertos performed by Jacqueline De Pre and I nearly wore that tape out (Samuel Barber's "Adagio For Strings" was also on that tape and that piece touched my soul). That concerto captivated me so I listened to Smiley as much as I could, as many recordings as I could find or have made. She was my muse back then and from time to time, I still like to listen or watch her "play" at play. Jacqueline would be 72 this year, but she died at age 42. Her career was very short due to Multiple Sclerosis and she ended her professional career at 27. Nevertheless, she inspired me. So on this anniversary of her passing, I hope you'll take some time to be inspired by Smiley. At least start a...