somewhere to elsewhere

somewhere to elsewhere
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

We’ve all, at some point, or even quite frequently, felt awkward, outside our element, like fish out of water. Perhaps most of us have an “in here” and “out there” view of the world. We will tend to keep ourselves within our comfort zones whenever possible.
It is also quite possible that our comfort zone is in no way physical. Maybe we are happiest in a “what if” world, or a “someday” era. Maybe regardless of where we find ourselves physically, even in a collision of contexts, in a surrealistic juxtaposition of environment, our hearts and minds are yet elsewhere. We find ourselves no more or less comfortable in any situation because our hopes and dreams transcend the situation.
Like all things in life there is a balance upon which healthy life is maintained. To live continually beyond our context breeds denial, delusion, decay, and many other words that start with d, as well as others, such as “insular.” To seize the day and live in the moment while dreaming beyond is to find your joy and meaning in something larger than circumstance. This allows for small rewards, simple pleasures, and shared happiness in the now, and hope beyond hope in the what is to come.
I am learning to be content in whatever the circumstances. And though I may desire to be elsewhere, it may be important that I stick around for the moment.

behind the tears

behind the tears
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

Ya know how when you look at a wonderful photograph on flickr, and your heart composes poetry, or sings a song, or ponders existential conundrums? Isn’t it fascinating when more than your eyes are touched by a photograph?
That’s how Spring is for me.
Ya know how when you take a familiar lengthy trip and measure distance traveled and distance to go by familiar landmarks along the way? It may be towns, silos, potty breaks, but we tend measure our journey by pre-arrivals rather than time or distance. That’s how spring is for me.
One travels through February dreading the last few cold nights. Along the side of the road a robin is spotted. - the first landmark. A bit further, a daffodil, then the Bradford Pears, the azaleas, the dogwoods, until eventually, the greatest moment of all – Wisteria’s dripping purple tears.
The paradox of spring centers on new birth and blossoming life. But no birth comes without pain, not even a re-birth, perhaps especially not a re-birth. Great pangs are endured before the dormancy of winter is overcome and the first buds are put forth. Death has been endured, and being reborn requires great fortitude and pain.
Wisteria paints this picture for me, and on the day that I spot the first purple tear, I inevitably shed a tear myself. It is so much more than beautiful. I could never presume that my blessings were without cost.
Purple blessings in falling tears.

He is Risen!

He is Risen!
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

Alleluia!

full paschal

full paschal
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

in the light of the paschal moon, all things are reborn, made new, resurrected.
If you look closely at the tiny, wispy branches silhouetted on the moon, you'll see that they are pushing in the pangs of labor to birth new life, tomorrow they will begin to flood the yard with green life.

lenten inventory: focus

lenten inventory: focus
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

the things of earth will grow strangely dim

lenten inventory: hands

lenten inventory: hands
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

we are better together

what's a fella to do?

what's a fella to do?
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

If you’ve ever been in love with a 44 year-old woman, then you know exactly how exciting and frustrating it is. You know the frustration of trying to find the right words to express your twitterpation while your tongue is tied or stuck to the roof of your mouth. Of course your mouth is dry because all your saliva has been distributed to the palms of your hands, which are so wet that you accidentally wipe them on your knees, and she thinks you’ve been kneeling in a puddle.
That’s what it’s like to be in love with a 44 year-old woman. This was a totally new experience for me this morning. I had no idea what it would be like. But those of you in know, you relate to what I’m talking about. Heart palpitations, shortness of breath, weak legs, trouble standing, slight vertigo, inability to focus thoughts, blurred vision, olfactory hallucinations, tinnitus.

And what about the irrational urge to compose verse?

Magnolias are white
Susans are yellow
This poem is dumb
I’m a fool of a fellow

Roses are red
Violets are blue,
Gardenias smell lovely
And you are pretty

Have you ever tried to go to work while you’re in love with a 44 year-old woman?
“Dr. Rod why are you staring at the dust ball in the corner of the classroom?”
“huh? Wha -? Oh, I’m sorry, so can any of you quote for me ?? definition of love?”
“huh? Wha -? What’s wrong Dr. Rod? This is music theory.”

What about grading papers?

“uh, Dr. Rod, why are all my wrong answers marked with little red hearts? Did your wife turn 44 or something?”

I’m telling you, this business is not a bed of roses, though a bed of roses is often part of the eternal fantasy. This is no walk in the park, though that is often the prelude to the bed of roses scenario. And in this state of being, if one were actually to happen upon a bed of roses, he’d only fall on the thorns. This is a tough state of affairs, I tell you.
I honestly thought this stuff would wane each year as I gazed with glazing eyes upon my aging, wrinkling, sagging woman. But reality has proven otherwise. She hasn’t aged, she hasn’t wrinkled, and she hasn’t sagged. And just when I’ve matured enough to look beyond the beautiful surface and more deeply understand her inner beauty, the superficial surface has become so much more distracting. Sheesh.
What’s a fellow to do?

lenten inventory: vapor

lenten inventory: vapor
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

This morning at school, Will's friend Gabby was called out of class to learn that her father had just died in a car crash. How does a 14 year-old girl cope with such heartbreak? How does a mother stay strong for her children?
This is tragedy that can NOT be faced alone.
How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow?
Your life is like the morning fog—
it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.
How frail is humanity!
How short is life, how full of trouble
We blossom like a flower and then wither.
Like a passing shadow, we quickly disappear.

Lenten Inventory: the glass is half full

Lenten Inventory: the glass is half full
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

Waxing or Waning?
The optimist says, "waxing," and he is right.
The realist says, "but it will wane," and he is right.
But we all know it will wax again.

Though the sorrow may last for the night, joy comes in the morning.

Lent inventory: jars of clay

Lent inventory: jars of clay
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

This is how I envision Allison and me 30 years from now. A team, we are. A duet.
You know, it took a lot of years before both of us realized that we were a team – harmony, one to the other. When we figured it out, a lot of years were gone. It takes another “lot of years” not to see them as wasted years. But these years are prep for the rest.
I think this is probably the story of every couple. I’d even be arrogant enough to say, if you don’t believe this, you’ve probably not figured it out yet. It is a miracle that any couple lasts long enough to figure it out. I realize that.
So, I figure 30 years down the road, we’ll still be figuring things out. We’ll be more dependent on one another, on things unseen, on faith. We’ll still be jars of clay, becoming more and more fragile.
More brittle, but less bitter.
More dry, but less thirsty.
More cracked, but less broken.
“That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; instead, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”

Café Rodrigo decor

Café Rodrigo decor
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

If you were to join me for a cup of Sumatra or Rwanda at my kitchen table while Anathallo, or Samuel Barber, or Johnny Cash, or John Rutter, or Sufijan Stevens played as the backdrop to conversation, during a pensive moment between words, while an English soprano searches for the breath support to rise on the phrase, "pie Jesu," your wandering gaze may fall upon the coffee pot, keeper of quiet moments. Probably, you would then raise your eyes and see these jars nestled in the corner above the cabinets, keeping watch over the room. They've seen a thousand blessed family meals received, conversations, gathered friends, and lovers' quarrels and mended deep intimacy.

It is the 6th Sunday of Lent, Palm Sunday. Holy week begins, and I'm taking inventory.

albedo

earthshine
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

"My borrowed face
And my third-hand grace
Only reflect your glory"
-neil peart

Of course we know that the moon has no light of it's own. Same is true for us, of course. We are both reflectors. In fact, the earth is a much better reflector than the moon, but we're losing our ability it would seem. We are increasingly absorbing and trapping more than we are reflecting.
Though the results of this are easily felt and observed, the cause and effect is much less clear. No one seems to agree as to what are symptoms and what are causes.
The average reflective ability, or albedo of the moon is about 7% of the sunlight that strikes it. Right now, the earth's is somewhere around 30%. If we were to observe a "full earth" from the moon, it would be about 100 times brighter than a full moon seen from earth.
How much sunlight (and thus heat) we continue to reflect can be monitored by observing how much of our light is reflected back from the moon. This is called “earthshine.” There have been several plans in the past decade to send machines way out into space to constantly monitor how much of the sun’s energy we reflect, but this has yet to happen. Meanwhile, as should probably be the most obvious way of knowing what we’re reflecting, we watch to see how much of us is reflected back again.
Earthshine, as viewed from the moon, is an indicator of our own albedo, just as my friends and family give me an indication of how much I reflect the light sent my way, by reflecting it back to me.
And I should never mistake that bright swath of reflected sunlight along the bottom as my own, lest all data be skewed.

spring up

spring up
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

All weekend I’ve been listening to people worry, fret and complain about the change to daylight savings time. Everyone has seemed so aggravated with it, that it is very difficult for me to confess that I’m the numero uno biggest fan of DST. I love lighted evenings. Dusk may very well be my favorite time of day, but during standard time, it’s come and gone by the time I’m home to sit and absorb it. As much as I love it though, springing forward really puts a wrench in my clockworks. The first half of the day felt no different really, except that my Sunday afternoon nap need came as scheduled, which was an hour before the clock allowed. Refusing to fight it, I dozed off and revived. This dozing set me to rights so that my rejuvenated state felt that it was an hour earlier than the clock said it was and now it’s 2:00am, and I’m wide awake.
But don’t hear what I’m not saying. I am not complaining, just accounting for the day of adjustment. This adjustment has given me time to ponder on what a wonderful day it has been. Though crisp and cool, the sky was deep blue and the sun was bright, and the air was clear. Spring was buzzing and trying to wake up from being temporarily knocked out by last night’s freezing temps. Azaleas began bursting, daffodils trumpeted, and the tulips pushed higher up out of the dirt.
After an exceptional church service this morning, we stayed downtown, dined on Tex-Mex, and made our way over to St. Joseph’s to hear an afternoon performance of John Rutter’s Requiem. It was especially wonderful, after hearing the closing, “lux aeterna,” to walk out into an extra hour of light and warmth.
The entire day was tailor-made from the clock change, to the lectionary readings, to the choral afternoon, to the restless contemplation of tonight.

night ride

night ride
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

I rode tonight. I wanted to ride to work today, but very little went as planned all day long. I couldn’t get my bike started, and eventually (rather quickly actually) drained the battery. So it sat in the garage and charged while I went about my day.
When I left the gym this evening the sun was peering through clouds and creating beautiful colors and silhouettes. I wanted to be riding while I watched them morph. I drove to the dam and watched the sunset before I came home and got my bike going.
So after dark, with Orion overhead, I fired up the windhorse and rode off into the night. It was a freedom I’ve needed. It’s been too long since I’ve taken a night ride. But of course the stars are still there forgiving my absence and welcoming me back.