future foreboding

future foreboding
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

I'm still reeling from what sent me to the dam on Thursday evening. Too many places to be - simultaneously. I now realize that I must become omnipresent to continue the pattern into which I've been thrust.
Every decision I make is wrong - regardless. My discernment is based on who will best understand and most quickly get over their disappointment.
This doing mode of life cannot be sustained - not in anyone's life. We are called to be, not to do. I fear that I am enabling an attitude in my children that will breed a lifestyle of making your plans and expecting everyone to get on board and bless your desires and wishes.

I fear that it may be erroneous to assume that by serving someone you teach them to serve. Rather, it appears as if we are merely teaching them to be served, to expect to be served, and to get really angry when for a brief moment, service has to shift to someone else.

I hope I'm exaggerating. I'm just really tired and emotionally spent.

pensive pam

pensive pam
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

sand is ever sinking and shifting. The surf and tides transport sediment and erode the beach. Jetties, or groins if you will, are built to impede transport and erosion.
Trees die, and break and fall.
But in the midst of instability, protruding from shifting sand carried by the ebb and flow, are stumps rooted so deeply that they hold firm at the edge of the world.

One does well on a sunny winter's day to stop a moment, lean against a steadfast stump, and contemplate it's solid grip.

phases

phases
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

A few years ago, when my love affair with the moon first reached ridiculous proportions, I longed for a telescope to see her more closely. I wanted deeper insight into her mysteries.
Eventually, I realized that her mysteries were no more explained by visual inspection than were the mysteries of my wife explained by the study of biology, or for that matter, even by closer inspection of her beautiful surface.
By now, though, I realize that closer inspection doesn't necessarily explain mysteries. Understanding mysteries, if possible, doesn't necessarily cause greater appreciation. Appreciating superficial beauty and detail, doesn't necessarily evidence a lack of depth.

I love my wife much more deeply than her skin and shape, and external beauty, but I certainly love her skin, her shape, and her external beauty. I believe that in our quest to become less superficial and more holistic, we often exclude and objectify just as blatantly as we did otherwise. We simply objectify different aspects.
As far as physicality goes, I find it a very immature love that loves "in spite of." A growing love begins to cherish pocks and blemishes because "they are yours, and you are mine."
I don't know. That's just what I'm thinking about.

cycles

cycles
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

I hang in a balance between surface tension and gravity. A part of me wants to surrender to the pull, to fall and be absorbed. But I hang on.
Occasionally, I become too full of myself, and gravity overcomes the tension.

I fall.

But without fail, the wind comes from nowhere, gathers me up and carries me until I’ve shed enough of me to hang safely in the balance of my desire and the forces of my nature. I’m re-formed, reshaped, and held once again, trying with all of me, to reflect the one who holds me.

1 of tulips

1 of tulips
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

Years and years ago, Al and I lived in an apartment that was a century-old house. The landlord had brought in a load of dirt for the backyard, but it was simply piled near our back door and left there. I don't remember that it was spread as long as we lived there.
In the first spring of our marriage, a single tulip came up in the middle of that dirt pile and bloomed red and beautiful. I'll never forget that. A glorious blossoming gift amidst an ugly pile of forgotten dirt.
I think it represents to me that nuance between happiness and joy. Joy is not contingent upon circumstances.
Happiness is a beautifully tended flower garden.
Joy is a tulip blossoming in a pile of dirt.

the lee boys

the lee boys
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

This past week was a stressful one. A Southern Association of Colleges and Schools accreditation visit had everyone on campus on our toes. Probably not as graceful or expressive as Molly is when she is on her toes, we all endured the mixed blessing of evaluation and assessment.
Often, at the end of stressful weeks, in our attempt to flush the stress, we send the whole week down the drain, but in doing so, also forget the good moments. This week had several wonderful moments as well.
On Thursday afternoon, after teaching until 12:50, I returned to my office for a few quiet moments before my 1:25. Almost immediately, one of my students knocked on my door to take me down to the student center to hear a band who were playing unplugged from a couch by the television. The band turned out to be Needtobreathe, and we were treated with awesome acoustic versions of some great songs.
Then on Friday evening I was rushing home to kiss Allison before she and Molly drove off to Charlotte and left the boys and me to fend for our own happiness. I got a phone call from a friend of a friend from Florida who told me that he was in town with a band from Miami that were playing downtown. So I got home, kissed Allison and bid her farewell, rested for a while and the boys and I drove downtown at 10:00pm to meet a new friend and hear some tunes.
Hear some tunes??????
That doesn’t come close.
The band was The Lee Boys, a sacred steel family outfit. This is was another one of those nights when I couldn’t get the smile off my face. The band quit playing at 1:30am, and Jack, Will, and I walked out into a momentary lull in the torrential storms to dodge the raindrops on our way home, exhausted, satisfied, and somewhat stunned at what we’d just experienced.
What we’d experienced was 2 and half hours of non-stop virtuosic energy. We heard intensely tight jams that seemed to go on forever, but never without direction. The steel guitar player was unbelievable, the bass, groovy as they come, the rhythm guitarist (and patriarch) dripped style, and if the drummer was one degree cooler, it would have started snowing. All the coolness on the stage, however, in no way cooled the warmth that emanated from the stage midst all that energy. I’m tellin’ ya kids. These guys were amazing.
If the Lee Boys come within 4 hours of you, you’d be foolish not to hear them live.
Consider yourselves warned.

lachrimosa

lachrimosa
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

Cry, for me, your purple tears.
A sorrow sweet, the song you sing.
With melancholy color comes
The pangs of birthing spring.

geyser

geyser
Originally uploaded by rod lewis

I realize I'm breaking my promise to myself not to inundate my friends with my wisteria obsession. But really I didn't promise you anything. I only promised myself to try not to get too carried away. I do this every year, and every year I fail. My blog or flickr stream gets all purple, and I ramble on philosophically about emotions and spirituality and life and cycles, etc.
But how can help it? When at every turn, one sees his soul flowing from every tree laboring in its rebirth, rooted in holy ground, attempting to absorb and cleanse the polluted air of a fallen world, he feels a certain kinship, community, and unity of purpose. He groans with all of creation awaiting the rich green, mature leaves.