I recently borrowed a CD from a dear friend, and was shocked to find a song on it that made me want to tear up because it was so effective. I can't even really say what exactly caused it, but perhaps it is because I value the interest with which this mother invests in her children. Perhaps its my own reverse-nostalgia looking forward to a possible future where this could possibly involve me...
Here is the song - enjoy! :)
---------------
Me
I haven't had
a chance to sleep
And when I wake
, I wake with your dreams
I guess my pillow
holds some kind of key
To your peace; your peace
Me
I wouldn't trade your love for all the candy
In this great big world
Me
I feel so crazy blessed and oh so lucky
To be the place you go
When you need to feel safe
When you need a kiss
It's me
I haven't showered and I tried to eat
But all your tears, oh they needed me
I need some time, some time to think
But then I hear you
And what you need is...
Me
I wouldn't trade your love for all the candy
In this great big world
Me
I feel so crazy blessed and oh so lucky
To be the place you go
I wash your face
to make room for
All the kisses of tomorrow
And every day that I get to be here with you
is sweet
Me
I wouldn't trade your love for all the candy
In this great big world
Me
I feel so crazy blessed and oh so lucky
To be the place you go
when you need to feel safe
When you need a kiss
Oh don't be afraid
Cause you'll have is....
Me
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Frsico '08
Well, we've finally returned after a week or so in San Francisco, and it was eventful. I come back a changed person, oddly enough. Strange the things that can alter your thinking.
It was wonderful to spend time with Barry and Bryan and my friends down south, Hans and Hilary - and I doubt I will soon forget this trip. We took video and snapped pix, and I'll post some of them up, but these were not the defining moments. But for the second time recently, I am unable to explain this over a blog session; if you wish to find out more, you shall have to ask for it in person. :)
But some pix for you...
It was wonderful to spend time with Barry and Bryan and my friends down south, Hans and Hilary - and I doubt I will soon forget this trip. We took video and snapped pix, and I'll post some of them up, but these were not the defining moments. But for the second time recently, I am unable to explain this over a blog session; if you wish to find out more, you shall have to ask for it in person. :)
But some pix for you...
Two Towers of Acyl
Strong and powerful, they stood side by side. Peering into the night with piercing glance of light and discernment and ruling the day with wisdom and the majesty of the blessed, the two Towers of Acyl were formed together with a purpose.
In storms they were tall and strong, a single anchor of one accord to which the wayward, confused and lost would seek rest, council, wisdom and to understand the secret which united the two Towers.
But the secret was strong, and only a very small part their own. In fact, the bond was made by another, and only kept up by themselves by a very small set of instruction. After binding them and creating the seal, the maker told them the secret: do not allow anything to attempt to disrupt either the foundation of the Towers nor the bond itself. And by this means the maker was faithful to keep the safety of the Towers.
Through the existence of the two Towers, there rose other towers nearby, created to be given wise instruction and the understanding of value of the maker and the bond he made for them and kept alive. These towers, too, though small and new, were given the bond which sealed the two Towers, and thus their fates and existence as well were bound together and with that of the two.
After a time, an unknown person dug in the earth near one of the two Towers. Cultivating the land and grooming it, giving the Tower pleasure in how it looked. But all was not well. For the unknown person did not stop with the work of excavation; indeed, closer came the person, still digging, past the surface, approaching the forbidden foundation of the great Tower. But the Tower felt safe in its foundation, and had witnessed the deeds of the unknown person, seeing kindness in their actions to this point. But soon the person had laid the foundation of the One Tower bare; causing it to be exposed. The One Tower, though warned by the other alarmed tower, allowed this without concern. Did not this person improve its landscape in their previous endeavors? Surely this would also be harmless.
So the One Tower breached the agreement between the maker, itself, and the other Tower, and allowed the exposure of its foundation. With this came a change. The bond between the Two Towers began to falter, and eventually was broken; but it moved and became a weak connection between the One Tower and the unknown person. But the One tower did not realize its foundation was slowly disappearing, and it was leaning away. All watched in terror as the One Tower began to crumble and fall away, none able to believe it could ever have happened. Those coming for assistance and advice were unsure what to think, and of the maker was wondered how this was allowed to happen. But the Other Tower did not allow the erosion of its foundation, nor the digging in its soil nearby, no matter how attractive the outcome seemed. And the bond was renewed between the small towers, the Other Tower, and the maker.
To this day the Fallen Tower continues to fall, now out of control, but still falling, still not taking action to stop the erosion or repair what it can. But the remaining One Tower can be seen, powerful, piercing in light, and incredible still in the majesty given her by the Creator. Strong despite the terrors of her past, capable more than ever for the instruction of her subject Towers, and the bond stronger every moment with the Creator; but faithfully, every moment, she pleads still with the Creator for the restoration of the bond beteeen Lost Tower and his Creator.
In storms they were tall and strong, a single anchor of one accord to which the wayward, confused and lost would seek rest, council, wisdom and to understand the secret which united the two Towers.
But the secret was strong, and only a very small part their own. In fact, the bond was made by another, and only kept up by themselves by a very small set of instruction. After binding them and creating the seal, the maker told them the secret: do not allow anything to attempt to disrupt either the foundation of the Towers nor the bond itself. And by this means the maker was faithful to keep the safety of the Towers.
Through the existence of the two Towers, there rose other towers nearby, created to be given wise instruction and the understanding of value of the maker and the bond he made for them and kept alive. These towers, too, though small and new, were given the bond which sealed the two Towers, and thus their fates and existence as well were bound together and with that of the two.
After a time, an unknown person dug in the earth near one of the two Towers. Cultivating the land and grooming it, giving the Tower pleasure in how it looked. But all was not well. For the unknown person did not stop with the work of excavation; indeed, closer came the person, still digging, past the surface, approaching the forbidden foundation of the great Tower. But the Tower felt safe in its foundation, and had witnessed the deeds of the unknown person, seeing kindness in their actions to this point. But soon the person had laid the foundation of the One Tower bare; causing it to be exposed. The One Tower, though warned by the other alarmed tower, allowed this without concern. Did not this person improve its landscape in their previous endeavors? Surely this would also be harmless.
So the One Tower breached the agreement between the maker, itself, and the other Tower, and allowed the exposure of its foundation. With this came a change. The bond between the Two Towers began to falter, and eventually was broken; but it moved and became a weak connection between the One Tower and the unknown person. But the One tower did not realize its foundation was slowly disappearing, and it was leaning away. All watched in terror as the One Tower began to crumble and fall away, none able to believe it could ever have happened. Those coming for assistance and advice were unsure what to think, and of the maker was wondered how this was allowed to happen. But the Other Tower did not allow the erosion of its foundation, nor the digging in its soil nearby, no matter how attractive the outcome seemed. And the bond was renewed between the small towers, the Other Tower, and the maker.
To this day the Fallen Tower continues to fall, now out of control, but still falling, still not taking action to stop the erosion or repair what it can. But the remaining One Tower can be seen, powerful, piercing in light, and incredible still in the majesty given her by the Creator. Strong despite the terrors of her past, capable more than ever for the instruction of her subject Towers, and the bond stronger every moment with the Creator; but faithfully, every moment, she pleads still with the Creator for the restoration of the bond beteeen Lost Tower and his Creator.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
The Giver
Annabelle loves to be there for her friends. She loves to be the life of the party, the one who helps the people in need, and the cheerful person people so often need around.
At age 27, she's become good at guessing what people need, and being able to get it for them. She can see trouble coming and step in to counter it, mediate an argument to the satisfaction of the two parties, make anyone smile at any time, and show a love that so many don't understand.
You'll find her planning, creating, hosting, and cleaning up after events, caring for anyone she knows who is sick, and making sure she goes the extra mile at work, home or wherever she is.
But at the end of the day, after everyone has been served, cheered and taken care of, Annabelle goes home and cries herself to sleep; for no one understands what she needs or why she is the way she is.
And nobody bothers to ask.
At age 27, she's become good at guessing what people need, and being able to get it for them. She can see trouble coming and step in to counter it, mediate an argument to the satisfaction of the two parties, make anyone smile at any time, and show a love that so many don't understand.
You'll find her planning, creating, hosting, and cleaning up after events, caring for anyone she knows who is sick, and making sure she goes the extra mile at work, home or wherever she is.
But at the end of the day, after everyone has been served, cheered and taken care of, Annabelle goes home and cries herself to sleep; for no one understands what she needs or why she is the way she is.
And nobody bothers to ask.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Live from Creation
Hey -
I'm here in my tent at the campground for CreationFest. Its huge. Got a couple of concerts tonight, and just for fun thought I'd post some pix. I'm hoping they turned out ok...took them with the phone lol.
Here we go...
I'm here in my tent at the campground for CreationFest. Its huge. Got a couple of concerts tonight, and just for fun thought I'd post some pix. I'm hoping they turned out ok...took them with the phone lol.
Here we go...
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Green
Its the type of light that comes out from under the clouds. Not through them, but around and under them. Everything looks surrealistic, in shades of green and yellow, often indistinguishable.
Leaves, flowers, the very air around lights up, becomes static; tangible. Everything appears surrealistic, nothing can be real.
My point of view changes, memories of other times are vivid while the odd lighting is present. People, objects, music, thoughts. They flash back into my head, each giving way to the next.
The clouds break, the surrealism is broken. Memories and thoughts of other times flee; all that is left is a feeling. And to it is joined another feeling, that of loss and unmistakable longing. A longing for times where only good things and cozy moments are remembered.
But with the sun-break arrives again the present, real life. Back to it again.
Leaves, flowers, the very air around lights up, becomes static; tangible. Everything appears surrealistic, nothing can be real.
My point of view changes, memories of other times are vivid while the odd lighting is present. People, objects, music, thoughts. They flash back into my head, each giving way to the next.
The clouds break, the surrealism is broken. Memories and thoughts of other times flee; all that is left is a feeling. And to it is joined another feeling, that of loss and unmistakable longing. A longing for times where only good things and cozy moments are remembered.
But with the sun-break arrives again the present, real life. Back to it again.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The Display
As he laid it on the display table in his shop front, the man carefully propped it up for the best viewable angle from the front window. He knew it would be an incredible attraction, and desired to see all the faces who peered in to see it; the stars and celebrities; the kings and queens; the wise folk who travelled far to witness it. He stored these thoughts deep down as he completed the arrangement and switched on the lights around to illuminate it.
It was beautiful, and throbbed just slightly as it sat basking in the sun, or appearing to drink in the rain which fell some days outside the window. The man was right, and there was nearly always a crowd outside seeking a look at his beautiful display. And display he did - proudly, and for the world to see. When affected, it was clear, and though perhaps, for some, many would be a private moment, the man still kept it in the window for viewing, even when it shook with grief, or heaved with burden.
Many years it remained on display, the children passing in awe, the adult folk looking on in interest.
In time, however, it became the norm. He would even allow many select people to handle it, and turn it over in their hands to view pieces he did not show to the general public. Everyone who was allowed to view it was impressed, but many were rough with it and often damaged it in ways which were irreparable.
As he had hoped, kings and queens, and people from all over the Earth journeyed to experience it and, indeed, he received much pleasure observing each person enjoying their experiences with it. But with the passing of time, it became more and more apparent that the exit of such important ones to his desire caused the most feeling of loss, and often times he would retract it from view and desire no one to visit or see, but he faithfully set it back in view each time.
When the man was old, though it became shriveled and unattractive, he did not retract it. It was bruised and broken, and a very sad sight indeed. Scars from those who mishandled it, missing pieces from those who stole portions, and wounds from those who viciously stabbed and tore at it were easily visible to all. Discoloration from too much exposure and even pieces missing which had been given away with intention drew comments and questions from many who passed by.
When the man died, it curled up and ceased to throb, as it also lay dead on the table on which it had spent so many hours and years experiencing the life in which it was set. And so the end came.
In later years, the crowds would look back at the years of Henry's shop display experience and wonder if it was wise or healthy, and feel a melancholy sadness sweep over them as they realized that they had viewed Henry's very heart for 83 years, and that it had died publicly, open to viewing, and entirely alone.
It was beautiful, and throbbed just slightly as it sat basking in the sun, or appearing to drink in the rain which fell some days outside the window. The man was right, and there was nearly always a crowd outside seeking a look at his beautiful display. And display he did - proudly, and for the world to see. When affected, it was clear, and though perhaps, for some, many would be a private moment, the man still kept it in the window for viewing, even when it shook with grief, or heaved with burden.
Many years it remained on display, the children passing in awe, the adult folk looking on in interest.
In time, however, it became the norm. He would even allow many select people to handle it, and turn it over in their hands to view pieces he did not show to the general public. Everyone who was allowed to view it was impressed, but many were rough with it and often damaged it in ways which were irreparable.
As he had hoped, kings and queens, and people from all over the Earth journeyed to experience it and, indeed, he received much pleasure observing each person enjoying their experiences with it. But with the passing of time, it became more and more apparent that the exit of such important ones to his desire caused the most feeling of loss, and often times he would retract it from view and desire no one to visit or see, but he faithfully set it back in view each time.
When the man was old, though it became shriveled and unattractive, he did not retract it. It was bruised and broken, and a very sad sight indeed. Scars from those who mishandled it, missing pieces from those who stole portions, and wounds from those who viciously stabbed and tore at it were easily visible to all. Discoloration from too much exposure and even pieces missing which had been given away with intention drew comments and questions from many who passed by.
When the man died, it curled up and ceased to throb, as it also lay dead on the table on which it had spent so many hours and years experiencing the life in which it was set. And so the end came.
In later years, the crowds would look back at the years of Henry's shop display experience and wonder if it was wise or healthy, and feel a melancholy sadness sweep over them as they realized that they had viewed Henry's very heart for 83 years, and that it had died publicly, open to viewing, and entirely alone.
Princess Mriata
Once upon a time...
There was a princess, and her name was Mriata. Her father was the great King, powerful and wise, and he ruled all the nations from his grand Castle at the Point of Dantata at the edge of the sea over the cliffs and plains. So beautiful was Mriata that she could not be mistaken by any in her world of Noshtia as any but the daughter of the great King, though few outside the castle at Dantata had never before glimpsed her. Her mother was very proud of her, for she did not squander time away in frivolous pursuits. Instead, she studied wisdom and knowledge under her father's tutelage, took every opportunity to gain practical experience in all that a proper young lady should know from everyone who would teach her, and desired most to become a wise and worthy young woman.
One day, a prince called Kalhied from a far away land called Marntan knocked on the door of the great castle. When he was admitted, he asked to be granted an audience with the King on a most important matter. When he was granted audience, he proceeded to inform the King that he had come to wed his daughter, if he would approve the marriage. The King looked at him for a moment, as if piercing his very mind and heart with his stare, and then asked a question of the man. Understanding that the man had come to love his daughter only for her fame and alleged beauty, the King asked him if he knew her beauty, and could he describe it. Confused, the prince answered, "Why no, my King, I have never before witnessed it. But it is known well through the nations that she is the most beautiful maiden, and that none can compare. It is for this reason I am here!" The King smiled, nodded, and proposed that the prince stay and enjoy some time at the castle in hopes of witnessing Mriata's beauty for himself. The prince, sure that his wish had been granted, agreed and was given Estla Tower, overlooking the Sea of Aris in which to reside.
Days passed and, to his great disappointment, the prince never was able to get a good view of the princesses' face. At mealtimes Mriata made the King and the prince bountiful feasts, in the evenings the prince always returned to clean fresh sheets on his bed; in the afternoon he browsed through the beautiful gardens which he knew were kept up by Mriata, but he would have traded the excellent food and the cleanliness and beauty of the grounds for just a look at her face, for this, he mused, was what he sought and what he would need to return to the King and answer his question.
Then, one day, when the sun was high and hot, the prince spotted Mriata sitting in a garden at the feet of her great grandmother, who was speaking of her past life in what the prince considered to be a very boring manner indeed. But Mriata was very intent and focused, drinking in every word. The location where the two were spending time together was such that if the prince had wanted to approach close enough to gaze upon Mriata's fair face, he would have appeared very obvious and awkward, so he did not come nearer. Later, he witnessed her assisting the old woman in a stroll, and then back up to her chamber in Auchen Tower. Again, he complained to himself, he wished he could just see her face.
For many weeks, the prince stayed looking on, and for many weeks Mriata went about her usual business attending to things around the castle, singing and enjoying her time as she went along, always happy to serve and take time away from her duties to jump at requests made by anyone. But always the prince witnessed this from a distance, and he became upset. He wondered why he was here and what he was supposed to be doing, so he sought out the King once more to beg his question.
When they had sat again around the table, the King asked politely of what topic the prince would speak. The prince burst into a confused wonderment, asking what his purpose here was and why he was being kept from seeing and marrying the beautiful young girl. The King then asked the man, "have you not witnessed her beauty while you have been here? What have you learned?" Stunned, the prince wondered what the old man could be thinking - he had not even come close enough to see her face, how could he have witnessed her beauty? He became discouraged and requested to leave, so his horse was brought to him and he rode away into the sunset, alone.
The prince was only the first of many young men who came to seek the princesses' hand in marriage, and the first of many to leave the castle perplexed and not understanding. Having failed to produce the answer the King desired to hear after their observations, still having sought only a view of her face, many of them took a stab at guessing what the King wanted to hear - some guessed that the beauty of the princess must be the work she did willingly, or the happiness she showed at helping whoever needed her; some wondered if perhaps it was her modest dress or quiet understanding manner, but none could guess correctly, and the King would send them on their way.
Then one day another prince called Jallin, rode from the neighboring country of Arkuntisch, requesting audience with the King. Making the familiar request for the princesses' hand in marriage, he too was asked if he could describe the beauty of the princess, and if not, to stay and observe her beauty. And as with Kalhied, while at the castle he was to reside in the Estla Tower. So he took up his post, and began his observations.
It occurred to Jallin immediately that there were only 4 people living at the castle, and wondered how the beautiful grounds were kept up. He had only to step outside, however, to realize the answer. From his vantage point on Estla Tower, he could clearly see the outline of the great King himself lovingly tending the gardens, mowing the lawns, cleaning the patios, and watering the large flower and vegetable gardens surrounding the castle. He could also see princess Mriata assisting him, as well as making sure her great grandmother always had a stroll through the grounds each day, for she could not walk it alone. Jallin observed Mriata performing the same duties Kalhied had observed, inside the castle and out, and enjoyed her song as she worked. Mriata's mother could also be seen often in the castle and out, making sure the pantries were stocked, the vegetable gardens harvested, the halls and rooms and living spaces clean and tidy, and prince Jallin began to have a great respect for this family.
Jallin noted, too, that, while they worked hard, this family also had their rest and celebration times. They were private, and held as a family, so Jallin was to observe only from a distance. But he knew that their enjoyment was simple, and the center of the memories they made together was spending time together, not caring what they did as long as they were together. Prince Jallin was touched and decided in his heart that his family, one day, would take many examples from what he now witnessed.
On the morning of April the 17th, two fortnights after his arrival, Jallin requested another audience with the King. When they were seated at the table, the King asked what Jallin would say to him. Jallin replied, "Great King, while I have still not gazed directly onto the face of princess Mriata, I have enjoyed a keen observation of her character. I do not have an answer for you, for I still do not understand what you seek, but I have decided that what I have observed is unique and unusual, and not to be disregarded. For while her face is hidden, it is clear to see that she plays out her day as if it was not hers, performing tasks as if they were not work, seeing every moment as an opportunity to learn and enjoy whatever is set before her to do. In this, she has become utterly selfless and desiring nothing but to serve others, while from these things taking such pleasures as make her appear as the happiest person one may ever meet. While unrelated to beauty, this, sir, I believe is to be more greatly valued than any fair face or shapely body - for what she demonstrates transcends such petty observances making them irrelevant in the scheme of things. I thank you for the opportunity to have learned a great deal, and I am sorry I do not understand how to address your request. I will take leave of you the morning of the morrow."
To this, the King bid him wait a moment as he stepped out of the room, and returned to with Mriata at his side. "Prince Jallin," said the King. "I would like to introduce you to my daughter, princess Mriata. With her character and beauty, you are already familiar. You have answered well, and now you may have her hand with my blessing if you both so desire." Jallin was now able to see the face of the famed princess of Dantata Castle, and saw that indeed she was very beautiful, but he was struck that his appreciation for her was not for her beauty, though indeed he found her very desirable, as much as it was for her character.
King Jallin and Queen Mriata still rule the land of Arkuntisch, and bestow the wisdom passed on from the Great King to their country folk. The days pass like golden dreams and sunsets are like wildfire lighting up the sky of Noshtia as with fireworks and light shows. And while still the beauty of the princess Mriata is famous and world renowned, all who have met her understand that the true beauty of the Queen of Arkuntisch lies in her character and desire to love all others before herself.
There was a princess, and her name was Mriata. Her father was the great King, powerful and wise, and he ruled all the nations from his grand Castle at the Point of Dantata at the edge of the sea over the cliffs and plains. So beautiful was Mriata that she could not be mistaken by any in her world of Noshtia as any but the daughter of the great King, though few outside the castle at Dantata had never before glimpsed her. Her mother was very proud of her, for she did not squander time away in frivolous pursuits. Instead, she studied wisdom and knowledge under her father's tutelage, took every opportunity to gain practical experience in all that a proper young lady should know from everyone who would teach her, and desired most to become a wise and worthy young woman.
One day, a prince called Kalhied from a far away land called Marntan knocked on the door of the great castle. When he was admitted, he asked to be granted an audience with the King on a most important matter. When he was granted audience, he proceeded to inform the King that he had come to wed his daughter, if he would approve the marriage. The King looked at him for a moment, as if piercing his very mind and heart with his stare, and then asked a question of the man. Understanding that the man had come to love his daughter only for her fame and alleged beauty, the King asked him if he knew her beauty, and could he describe it. Confused, the prince answered, "Why no, my King, I have never before witnessed it. But it is known well through the nations that she is the most beautiful maiden, and that none can compare. It is for this reason I am here!" The King smiled, nodded, and proposed that the prince stay and enjoy some time at the castle in hopes of witnessing Mriata's beauty for himself. The prince, sure that his wish had been granted, agreed and was given Estla Tower, overlooking the Sea of Aris in which to reside.
Days passed and, to his great disappointment, the prince never was able to get a good view of the princesses' face. At mealtimes Mriata made the King and the prince bountiful feasts, in the evenings the prince always returned to clean fresh sheets on his bed; in the afternoon he browsed through the beautiful gardens which he knew were kept up by Mriata, but he would have traded the excellent food and the cleanliness and beauty of the grounds for just a look at her face, for this, he mused, was what he sought and what he would need to return to the King and answer his question.
Then, one day, when the sun was high and hot, the prince spotted Mriata sitting in a garden at the feet of her great grandmother, who was speaking of her past life in what the prince considered to be a very boring manner indeed. But Mriata was very intent and focused, drinking in every word. The location where the two were spending time together was such that if the prince had wanted to approach close enough to gaze upon Mriata's fair face, he would have appeared very obvious and awkward, so he did not come nearer. Later, he witnessed her assisting the old woman in a stroll, and then back up to her chamber in Auchen Tower. Again, he complained to himself, he wished he could just see her face.
For many weeks, the prince stayed looking on, and for many weeks Mriata went about her usual business attending to things around the castle, singing and enjoying her time as she went along, always happy to serve and take time away from her duties to jump at requests made by anyone. But always the prince witnessed this from a distance, and he became upset. He wondered why he was here and what he was supposed to be doing, so he sought out the King once more to beg his question.
When they had sat again around the table, the King asked politely of what topic the prince would speak. The prince burst into a confused wonderment, asking what his purpose here was and why he was being kept from seeing and marrying the beautiful young girl. The King then asked the man, "have you not witnessed her beauty while you have been here? What have you learned?" Stunned, the prince wondered what the old man could be thinking - he had not even come close enough to see her face, how could he have witnessed her beauty? He became discouraged and requested to leave, so his horse was brought to him and he rode away into the sunset, alone.
The prince was only the first of many young men who came to seek the princesses' hand in marriage, and the first of many to leave the castle perplexed and not understanding. Having failed to produce the answer the King desired to hear after their observations, still having sought only a view of her face, many of them took a stab at guessing what the King wanted to hear - some guessed that the beauty of the princess must be the work she did willingly, or the happiness she showed at helping whoever needed her; some wondered if perhaps it was her modest dress or quiet understanding manner, but none could guess correctly, and the King would send them on their way.
Then one day another prince called Jallin, rode from the neighboring country of Arkuntisch, requesting audience with the King. Making the familiar request for the princesses' hand in marriage, he too was asked if he could describe the beauty of the princess, and if not, to stay and observe her beauty. And as with Kalhied, while at the castle he was to reside in the Estla Tower. So he took up his post, and began his observations.
It occurred to Jallin immediately that there were only 4 people living at the castle, and wondered how the beautiful grounds were kept up. He had only to step outside, however, to realize the answer. From his vantage point on Estla Tower, he could clearly see the outline of the great King himself lovingly tending the gardens, mowing the lawns, cleaning the patios, and watering the large flower and vegetable gardens surrounding the castle. He could also see princess Mriata assisting him, as well as making sure her great grandmother always had a stroll through the grounds each day, for she could not walk it alone. Jallin observed Mriata performing the same duties Kalhied had observed, inside the castle and out, and enjoyed her song as she worked. Mriata's mother could also be seen often in the castle and out, making sure the pantries were stocked, the vegetable gardens harvested, the halls and rooms and living spaces clean and tidy, and prince Jallin began to have a great respect for this family.
Jallin noted, too, that, while they worked hard, this family also had their rest and celebration times. They were private, and held as a family, so Jallin was to observe only from a distance. But he knew that their enjoyment was simple, and the center of the memories they made together was spending time together, not caring what they did as long as they were together. Prince Jallin was touched and decided in his heart that his family, one day, would take many examples from what he now witnessed.
On the morning of April the 17th, two fortnights after his arrival, Jallin requested another audience with the King. When they were seated at the table, the King asked what Jallin would say to him. Jallin replied, "Great King, while I have still not gazed directly onto the face of princess Mriata, I have enjoyed a keen observation of her character. I do not have an answer for you, for I still do not understand what you seek, but I have decided that what I have observed is unique and unusual, and not to be disregarded. For while her face is hidden, it is clear to see that she plays out her day as if it was not hers, performing tasks as if they were not work, seeing every moment as an opportunity to learn and enjoy whatever is set before her to do. In this, she has become utterly selfless and desiring nothing but to serve others, while from these things taking such pleasures as make her appear as the happiest person one may ever meet. While unrelated to beauty, this, sir, I believe is to be more greatly valued than any fair face or shapely body - for what she demonstrates transcends such petty observances making them irrelevant in the scheme of things. I thank you for the opportunity to have learned a great deal, and I am sorry I do not understand how to address your request. I will take leave of you the morning of the morrow."
To this, the King bid him wait a moment as he stepped out of the room, and returned to with Mriata at his side. "Prince Jallin," said the King. "I would like to introduce you to my daughter, princess Mriata. With her character and beauty, you are already familiar. You have answered well, and now you may have her hand with my blessing if you both so desire." Jallin was now able to see the face of the famed princess of Dantata Castle, and saw that indeed she was very beautiful, but he was struck that his appreciation for her was not for her beauty, though indeed he found her very desirable, as much as it was for her character.
King Jallin and Queen Mriata still rule the land of Arkuntisch, and bestow the wisdom passed on from the Great King to their country folk. The days pass like golden dreams and sunsets are like wildfire lighting up the sky of Noshtia as with fireworks and light shows. And while still the beauty of the princess Mriata is famous and world renowned, all who have met her understand that the true beauty of the Queen of Arkuntisch lies in her character and desire to love all others before herself.
As Seen in Real Life
The waves crashed gently on the shore, curling over each other in breathtaking translucent blues and whites. Reflected by the mineral rich water, the sun blazed down through the hot dry atmosphere, causing the distinct feeling to the most sane-feeling person that the very air sparkled with life and light.
The sky was crystal clear and blue for miles. Stretching like a canopy over the earth, it wrapped downward and disappeared at the end of the ocean.
Woods, just in from the shore, too, gave the impression of extra life from within them. Several thousand shades of green, white, red and brown shone from the midst of the trees as rays of the same sunlight flowed down and filtered onto the forest floor. Aside from the gentle lapping of the waves, the sway of the trees and the quiet breeze through the sand there was a peaceful silence.
A lone leaf, vibrant with color, large with sweeping lobes and sharply defined veins floated down through the light and onto the ground. It had no mind, and did as it was designed to do — fall was in the air.
* * *
Stunned by the beauty, he stepped back to admire it - wondering how it had all flowed out of his imagination. But it was missing a piece - the final touch - and this would be the most difficult. It would need a separate style - one that would define independence from nature's strict laws of instinct and uniformity; the flagship design.
Therefore the beach was given to stand on it a man. It was a marvelous sight and rendered with such thick detail that it blurred all else in comparison. For as the ocean exhibited a strange reality of combinations of beauty and uniformity, and as the light seemed to live briefly in the air, and the trees seemed so quietly alive, so also the man exuded a sense of life. But it was more than this, for the man was given a unique power: the power of choice.
But the man refused to choose. He could see that all around him was magnificent, but felt only the way he imagined the tree should feel, and felt compelled to execute the instinct of the environment about him. Following to be sure all was well, everything tended, and nothing out of line, the man began a life to show his adherence to nature and her laws.
The painter now wondered when the man would realize he could communicate with his designer - directly. But the man did not understand. So the painter called out to the man, his painting, and said, "Man! Doest thou not wish to speak with thy designer? Is there but little in you to make you wonder of your own existence and drive your curiosity to consider what differences you are to enjoy from the rest of the painting?" And the man was scared and did not respond, but instead sought hiding in the woods, hoping the painter would cease to speak. For whoever heard of one design of this painting being given such ideas as curiosity and contemplation? Was he not also like the tree and intended only to perform a role in the painting? Should he not simply fulfill his duty and continue as it had been?
But the painter did not give up - there was much the man needed to know; there was so much on which the man would miss out if he did not choose to see all that had been prepared for him. But the man continued to live his role-based life. He did find many times that it was difficult to complete his role, and often he did not have the understanding he needed to complete a particular task; in this he failed and it hurt him a great deal. But still he continued on, never understanding that the answers to all of his yearnings, questions and shortcomings were but a glance away. And still the painter called and desired for the man to answer him - to take hold of what he had to offer from his own understanding. Many years he waited, but to no avail.
Years later found the painter looking into his painting to watch the man as he entered his late years, still yearning to share with the man his life and the intention of the man's design, but through his dying day, the man refused to believe there was more to life than instinct and instruction; he died in ignorance of his own true purpose, and never experienced personal fulfillment through conversation with and understanding of the one who painted him into existance. The painter was grieved, and left the painting to be shown in prominence in his house, for it was his greatest achievement; though the subject and sole purpose of the painting, which was the man, had disappeared into dust and could not be seen any longer.
The sky was crystal clear and blue for miles. Stretching like a canopy over the earth, it wrapped downward and disappeared at the end of the ocean.
Woods, just in from the shore, too, gave the impression of extra life from within them. Several thousand shades of green, white, red and brown shone from the midst of the trees as rays of the same sunlight flowed down and filtered onto the forest floor. Aside from the gentle lapping of the waves, the sway of the trees and the quiet breeze through the sand there was a peaceful silence.
A lone leaf, vibrant with color, large with sweeping lobes and sharply defined veins floated down through the light and onto the ground. It had no mind, and did as it was designed to do — fall was in the air.
* * *
Stunned by the beauty, he stepped back to admire it - wondering how it had all flowed out of his imagination. But it was missing a piece - the final touch - and this would be the most difficult. It would need a separate style - one that would define independence from nature's strict laws of instinct and uniformity; the flagship design.
Therefore the beach was given to stand on it a man. It was a marvelous sight and rendered with such thick detail that it blurred all else in comparison. For as the ocean exhibited a strange reality of combinations of beauty and uniformity, and as the light seemed to live briefly in the air, and the trees seemed so quietly alive, so also the man exuded a sense of life. But it was more than this, for the man was given a unique power: the power of choice.
But the man refused to choose. He could see that all around him was magnificent, but felt only the way he imagined the tree should feel, and felt compelled to execute the instinct of the environment about him. Following to be sure all was well, everything tended, and nothing out of line, the man began a life to show his adherence to nature and her laws.
The painter now wondered when the man would realize he could communicate with his designer - directly. But the man did not understand. So the painter called out to the man, his painting, and said, "Man! Doest thou not wish to speak with thy designer? Is there but little in you to make you wonder of your own existence and drive your curiosity to consider what differences you are to enjoy from the rest of the painting?" And the man was scared and did not respond, but instead sought hiding in the woods, hoping the painter would cease to speak. For whoever heard of one design of this painting being given such ideas as curiosity and contemplation? Was he not also like the tree and intended only to perform a role in the painting? Should he not simply fulfill his duty and continue as it had been?
But the painter did not give up - there was much the man needed to know; there was so much on which the man would miss out if he did not choose to see all that had been prepared for him. But the man continued to live his role-based life. He did find many times that it was difficult to complete his role, and often he did not have the understanding he needed to complete a particular task; in this he failed and it hurt him a great deal. But still he continued on, never understanding that the answers to all of his yearnings, questions and shortcomings were but a glance away. And still the painter called and desired for the man to answer him - to take hold of what he had to offer from his own understanding. Many years he waited, but to no avail.
Years later found the painter looking into his painting to watch the man as he entered his late years, still yearning to share with the man his life and the intention of the man's design, but through his dying day, the man refused to believe there was more to life than instinct and instruction; he died in ignorance of his own true purpose, and never experienced personal fulfillment through conversation with and understanding of the one who painted him into existance. The painter was grieved, and left the painting to be shown in prominence in his house, for it was his greatest achievement; though the subject and sole purpose of the painting, which was the man, had disappeared into dust and could not be seen any longer.
Kerry Taylor
The maple leaves are beginning to fall on the Hill of Jeary, sillhouetted against the setting evening sun and bright with color upon the dawn of the glorious Fall days. Though no rake is in sight, the leaves are neatly piled in a circle around the tree which releases them.
Once ripe with green apples, bright red pie cherries, and deep purple plums, the orchard trees now stand on fire with their own respective colors down in the field below the maple tree. Tallest poplar and whitest birch trees line either side of the driveway leading up to the small log cabin at the top of the hill. Shaded by the maple tree, an old white-haired man sits on his porch pondering the life he has lived.
The falling leaves have special memories for Kerry Taylor, and as his mind drifts backward to the past, a slow tear of joy runs down his cheek. He is lost in memories.
It was August, and Kerry had just been surprised for his 23rd birthday. On a plane bound for the West Coast, he sat observing the other passengers on the flight. His eyes came to rest on a seat 6 rows up from which he could only glimpse an edge of a magnificent Maple leaf, wrapped carefully in a light cellophane and held gingerly by a very small hand. He was curious who would carry such a thing on a plane and for what purpose, and decided to think of every possible reason this would be done.
Grabbing the nearest free Sky Magazine, he tore the whitest page he could find out and began writing. The other two people in his row casually peeked at his note every so often, wondering what he could be doing, but not daring enough to ask.
Then, realizing he'd written ideas for an hour and that the flight would end soon, he decided to stop dodging and rose from his seat.
"Hello." he said to the girl in row 47. "Wow," he thought, "she has such bright eyes!"
"Hello." she returned. "Who are you?"
"Kerry. And I was admiring your leaf. May I ask its significance?"
"My leaf? Well its a long story, and we will be landing soon."
"Where are you headed at the end of the flight?"
"I have a 4 hour lay-over in Salt Lake City, going on to Seattle."
"Really? Me too - will you meet me at C2 when we arrive? I would love to hear the story."
"Sure. See you there."
Heart thumping for no apparent reason, Kerry moved quickly back to his seat as the captain announced their descent to the runway. Buckling himself in, Kerry readied himself to cancel his connecting flight to LA and book himself into flight 494 to Seattle.
As soon as he exited terminal B16 he went straight up to C2 and fixed his flight info - he would be a standby passenger, and hoped desperately that he would get a seat. He called his business partner in Southern California and postponed his meeting until the next day.
As she walked up to C2 he realized how small she was, like a child holding a leaf nearly as big as she was. But in her face, he could see she was no child.
"Hello again!" he said nervously, trying to hide his shaking hand.
"Hello." she said.
"So what's the story?" he asked.
"Well," she began, "it goes back to 4 years ago when my dad told me I was living life in the fast lane, and should slow down. He seemed to think I would miss too much of life - the small things, you know - if I continued on as I was.
Well, I didn't know how to slow down. It was normality - you know how life is these days, not much time anymore. I am goal-oriented, and I like to move right on to the next one after completing one. So daddy came up with an idea for me slow down a bit. He suggested that I journal my work. All of my goals are lined up in an order to get me to a final goal, and each one is something I have particularly picked out, practical but enjoyable. Some were quick and simple, others were long and study-intensive. He suggested that after I complete a goal, whatever size, that I take a day to go back and remember the time I spent, read the journal, and consider all of my activity - even non-goal related - during the period of time I spent. And then, he said, I should pick out something - like a landmark or symbol - to identify the success, and to make it memorable. I have always been a fan of the largest maple leaves I can find, so I knew immediately that that would be what I would choose."
Fascinated, Kerry listened to her tale, wondering why it would be that she would so quickly open up to him - a man she'd never met. But he continued listening.
"So I journalled along the timeline of each of my adventures, and as he suggested, went back at the end and remembered my journey. At first, all I could think was how silly I felt reading back on something I could clearly remember without reading it. But then I noticed that as I read I could see something missing. It wasn't what I had done that daddy wanted me to see, it was what I had not done. I am always so focused on my projects that I forget everything else around me and become very isolated.
Learning from the first journal, I was careful not to 'fall off the face of the earth' in the following projects. Each time I finished a journal, I put it into my bookshelf and hung the largest maple leaf I could find, wrapped in cellophane, from its binding.
I now have a library of over 77 completed journals and signature leaves hanging from them. Each one marks something I have learned, completely separate of the project itself, and, I have found out, more life-changing. The adventure became not what I would find in reaching my goal, but the things I would learn along the way, stopping to observe and be quiet to listen.
Last month, daddy gave me another idea. He asked how many goals I had left to accomplish - I admitted that I wasn't now sure; I had originally only had 51, and I was now long past that. He wondered if I'd run an experiment with the idea and play it backwards.
Always excited to try something new, I decided to run with it. So I packaged up a signature leaf I found on a small hill just North-East from Seattle and set out for a journey. The idea was to see how carrying this leaf would change my destination - and not just my physical destination. 'Let it build you a new destination' he said.
Honestly, I was getting a little disappointed. I travelled all the way from Seattle to Boulder, to Atlanta, to Chicago to New York on small business ventures. But nothing extraordinary happened, and in fact no one has even commented on my leaf. Now, on a homeward flight, when I had given up on the idea, you show up asking about it - so here we are."
Kerry sat back for a few minutes to take in the story, laughing to himself at how strange things can happen when you least suspect them.
"So you are saying that I have become your next adventure?" he asked.
"Yes." she said quietly, observing him.
"Wonderful. Where shall we begin?" he asked.
"We've already begun."
As the sun fell below the horizon and the hot day cooled into a warm refreshing night, Kerry continued to look out from his porch, now looking out at the stars. His porch swing swayed slightly in the cool breeze coming in off the water in the distance.
How strange, he thought, what the media, movies, and even culture feel are the ideal ways to meet and build a friendship with another. But it can be as simple as Arie's leaf.
On June 12, three years after meeting over Arie's leaf, Kerry Taylor and Arie Kaya were married in front of a small site where Kerry had just built Arie a cabin on a hill. The ceremony took place under the maple tree which had yielded the leaf from which they had first met, and he carried his bright-eyed young bride over the new threshold and closed the door.
As time went on, Arie suddenly noticed that she had begun to forget the adventures she had had before meeting Kerry. But reading through her journals, she also discovered that the life lessons learned along the way she had not forgotten. Her research, studies, knowledge and understanding of the information she had collected served her in its own place as the years went by, but never did it impact her life as she had originally expected it to. Instead she found that the wisdom she had least expected to receive was the most important to her every day life.
In the last few ventures before she had met Kerry, Arie had learned perhaps one of the most important pieces of wisdom for which she could have hoped, though it did not become apparent until sometime after they had met. Though it can be said that Arie was dedicated to everything into which she put herself, willing herself to complete the task even if it became unexpectedly difficult or frustrating, there were a few times when she did not want to continue, but chose to anyway. Looking back at this, she discovered that everything she had encountered thus far, and everything following in later years, was based on a choice.
Not long after meeting, Kerry and Arie had discovered that they were nothing alike. From basic every-day preferences, such as adding salt to the chips at mexican restaurants, to their views on politics, movies, music and culture, they were very different. Only in their faith were they alike, and this was the core of the bond between them. But Arie realized that she had a choice, no matter the differences, to love Kerry; and she realized from the beginning that Kerry had already made the choice to love her. Baffled, watching everything she had heard in her past about marriage and compatibility proving to be false, she made the choice to love Kerry.
Later, at their 37 year wedding anniversary, Aria would reflect that she had made the correct choice, and realize that she hadn't made that choice just once, but every moment of every day until then.
In December, a year and a half after their wedding, Jeary Taylor was born, and a new chapter began for Kerry and Arie. Never had either found such joy in Creation, nor had either found themselves so exhausted. Jeary grew into a tall strong young man, admired by all in the community for his honesty, loyalty and loving nature. Everyone wondered how this young man could be so strong in faith and powerful in spirit and purpose. Though Jeary had moments, just as everyone does, where he found himself in fear, worry, hurt or sadness, he knew that the the wisdom his parents had passed down to him all of his 14 years was the key. Complete faith in a being who is Lord and friend to all of His beloved mankind, and the understanding that all things in life are decided by a choice shaped him into the man he was becoming.
But tragedy struck, and Jeary's life was taken just before his 15th birthday. Kerry and Arie, though blessed to know exactly where Jeary had gone, were devastated at his death.
Spring came again. The trees began to bloom, and the rain again began to feed the legendary green landscape around the hill. Kerry and Arie gave thanks to God for the 14 years they had of Jeary's life, and named their hill "Jeary Hill" in memory of their son. Together, they sat on the new swing bench Kerry had built on the front porch of the small cabin, watching the countryside explode again into color and warmth as Fall began to take its place again.
Remembering, again, her old journals, Arie was struck by an idea and led Kerry into the now leave-strewn yard around the cabin. She began pushing the leaves into small piles surrounding the tree from which they fell. There were 14 piles, and she explained that each pile represented a year of the life of their boy. Then he understood, and wept, for she had explained what he had known but could not express. For just as each leaf on each journal Arie kept represented a completion of a goal, becoming the blessing of wisdom, so did each pile of leaves reflect how much blessing and learning each of them had experienced for the years of Jeary's life. Thus was born a tradition, and in the following years, the Taylors invited neighbors and friends to share in the experience of remembering their blessings, represented by the maple leaves around the tree on Jeary Hill.
Kerry and Arie had been married 38 years when Arie was hit with a sickness the doctors could not diagnose. And, though she survived, finally casting off the sickness, her eyes were never again the same and reflected her health. The brightness had dimmed just enough for Kerry to notice. He knew he would not have her much longer.
Three years later, Arie died while sleeping in Kerry's arms. He held her, knowing he must give her up. Loneliness flooded his heart, and he looked to Jesus for support - he suddenly did not want to go on; he didn't want to live without Arie.
But, once again, he was presented with a choice. And though it was difficult, Kerry knew for certain that he was alive for a purpose. He allowed his heart to be mended and the hole Arie had left filled by the Creator. Though often sad, and still lonely, Kerry enjoyed allowing himself to become lost in memory in his spare moments.
To this day, Kerry continues the tradition of making piles from the maple leaves around the tree on the hill, inviting friends and neighbors to join him in celebration of all God has done for them and given them in their lifetimes.
Now, back from his journeys through time, the tears stream quickly and quietly down his wrinkled cheeks. He leans his head back, sleep overtaking him, and he quietly slips away - sleeping now for the last time, sweet memories of Arie and Jeary the last things to pass through his thoughts. He smiles, and is gone.
------------
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."
-Ecc. 3:1-8
Once ripe with green apples, bright red pie cherries, and deep purple plums, the orchard trees now stand on fire with their own respective colors down in the field below the maple tree. Tallest poplar and whitest birch trees line either side of the driveway leading up to the small log cabin at the top of the hill. Shaded by the maple tree, an old white-haired man sits on his porch pondering the life he has lived.
The falling leaves have special memories for Kerry Taylor, and as his mind drifts backward to the past, a slow tear of joy runs down his cheek. He is lost in memories.
It was August, and Kerry had just been surprised for his 23rd birthday. On a plane bound for the West Coast, he sat observing the other passengers on the flight. His eyes came to rest on a seat 6 rows up from which he could only glimpse an edge of a magnificent Maple leaf, wrapped carefully in a light cellophane and held gingerly by a very small hand. He was curious who would carry such a thing on a plane and for what purpose, and decided to think of every possible reason this would be done.
Grabbing the nearest free Sky Magazine, he tore the whitest page he could find out and began writing. The other two people in his row casually peeked at his note every so often, wondering what he could be doing, but not daring enough to ask.
Then, realizing he'd written ideas for an hour and that the flight would end soon, he decided to stop dodging and rose from his seat.
"Hello." he said to the girl in row 47. "Wow," he thought, "she has such bright eyes!"
"Hello." she returned. "Who are you?"
"Kerry. And I was admiring your leaf. May I ask its significance?"
"My leaf? Well its a long story, and we will be landing soon."
"Where are you headed at the end of the flight?"
"I have a 4 hour lay-over in Salt Lake City, going on to Seattle."
"Really? Me too - will you meet me at C2 when we arrive? I would love to hear the story."
"Sure. See you there."
Heart thumping for no apparent reason, Kerry moved quickly back to his seat as the captain announced their descent to the runway. Buckling himself in, Kerry readied himself to cancel his connecting flight to LA and book himself into flight 494 to Seattle.
As soon as he exited terminal B16 he went straight up to C2 and fixed his flight info - he would be a standby passenger, and hoped desperately that he would get a seat. He called his business partner in Southern California and postponed his meeting until the next day.
As she walked up to C2 he realized how small she was, like a child holding a leaf nearly as big as she was. But in her face, he could see she was no child.
"Hello again!" he said nervously, trying to hide his shaking hand.
"Hello." she said.
"So what's the story?" he asked.
"Well," she began, "it goes back to 4 years ago when my dad told me I was living life in the fast lane, and should slow down. He seemed to think I would miss too much of life - the small things, you know - if I continued on as I was.
Well, I didn't know how to slow down. It was normality - you know how life is these days, not much time anymore. I am goal-oriented, and I like to move right on to the next one after completing one. So daddy came up with an idea for me slow down a bit. He suggested that I journal my work. All of my goals are lined up in an order to get me to a final goal, and each one is something I have particularly picked out, practical but enjoyable. Some were quick and simple, others were long and study-intensive. He suggested that after I complete a goal, whatever size, that I take a day to go back and remember the time I spent, read the journal, and consider all of my activity - even non-goal related - during the period of time I spent. And then, he said, I should pick out something - like a landmark or symbol - to identify the success, and to make it memorable. I have always been a fan of the largest maple leaves I can find, so I knew immediately that that would be what I would choose."
Fascinated, Kerry listened to her tale, wondering why it would be that she would so quickly open up to him - a man she'd never met. But he continued listening.
"So I journalled along the timeline of each of my adventures, and as he suggested, went back at the end and remembered my journey. At first, all I could think was how silly I felt reading back on something I could clearly remember without reading it. But then I noticed that as I read I could see something missing. It wasn't what I had done that daddy wanted me to see, it was what I had not done. I am always so focused on my projects that I forget everything else around me and become very isolated.
Learning from the first journal, I was careful not to 'fall off the face of the earth' in the following projects. Each time I finished a journal, I put it into my bookshelf and hung the largest maple leaf I could find, wrapped in cellophane, from its binding.
I now have a library of over 77 completed journals and signature leaves hanging from them. Each one marks something I have learned, completely separate of the project itself, and, I have found out, more life-changing. The adventure became not what I would find in reaching my goal, but the things I would learn along the way, stopping to observe and be quiet to listen.
Last month, daddy gave me another idea. He asked how many goals I had left to accomplish - I admitted that I wasn't now sure; I had originally only had 51, and I was now long past that. He wondered if I'd run an experiment with the idea and play it backwards.
Always excited to try something new, I decided to run with it. So I packaged up a signature leaf I found on a small hill just North-East from Seattle and set out for a journey. The idea was to see how carrying this leaf would change my destination - and not just my physical destination. 'Let it build you a new destination' he said.
Honestly, I was getting a little disappointed. I travelled all the way from Seattle to Boulder, to Atlanta, to Chicago to New York on small business ventures. But nothing extraordinary happened, and in fact no one has even commented on my leaf. Now, on a homeward flight, when I had given up on the idea, you show up asking about it - so here we are."
Kerry sat back for a few minutes to take in the story, laughing to himself at how strange things can happen when you least suspect them.
"So you are saying that I have become your next adventure?" he asked.
"Yes." she said quietly, observing him.
"Wonderful. Where shall we begin?" he asked.
"We've already begun."
As the sun fell below the horizon and the hot day cooled into a warm refreshing night, Kerry continued to look out from his porch, now looking out at the stars. His porch swing swayed slightly in the cool breeze coming in off the water in the distance.
How strange, he thought, what the media, movies, and even culture feel are the ideal ways to meet and build a friendship with another. But it can be as simple as Arie's leaf.
On June 12, three years after meeting over Arie's leaf, Kerry Taylor and Arie Kaya were married in front of a small site where Kerry had just built Arie a cabin on a hill. The ceremony took place under the maple tree which had yielded the leaf from which they had first met, and he carried his bright-eyed young bride over the new threshold and closed the door.
As time went on, Arie suddenly noticed that she had begun to forget the adventures she had had before meeting Kerry. But reading through her journals, she also discovered that the life lessons learned along the way she had not forgotten. Her research, studies, knowledge and understanding of the information she had collected served her in its own place as the years went by, but never did it impact her life as she had originally expected it to. Instead she found that the wisdom she had least expected to receive was the most important to her every day life.
In the last few ventures before she had met Kerry, Arie had learned perhaps one of the most important pieces of wisdom for which she could have hoped, though it did not become apparent until sometime after they had met. Though it can be said that Arie was dedicated to everything into which she put herself, willing herself to complete the task even if it became unexpectedly difficult or frustrating, there were a few times when she did not want to continue, but chose to anyway. Looking back at this, she discovered that everything she had encountered thus far, and everything following in later years, was based on a choice.
Not long after meeting, Kerry and Arie had discovered that they were nothing alike. From basic every-day preferences, such as adding salt to the chips at mexican restaurants, to their views on politics, movies, music and culture, they were very different. Only in their faith were they alike, and this was the core of the bond between them. But Arie realized that she had a choice, no matter the differences, to love Kerry; and she realized from the beginning that Kerry had already made the choice to love her. Baffled, watching everything she had heard in her past about marriage and compatibility proving to be false, she made the choice to love Kerry.
Later, at their 37 year wedding anniversary, Aria would reflect that she had made the correct choice, and realize that she hadn't made that choice just once, but every moment of every day until then.
In December, a year and a half after their wedding, Jeary Taylor was born, and a new chapter began for Kerry and Arie. Never had either found such joy in Creation, nor had either found themselves so exhausted. Jeary grew into a tall strong young man, admired by all in the community for his honesty, loyalty and loving nature. Everyone wondered how this young man could be so strong in faith and powerful in spirit and purpose. Though Jeary had moments, just as everyone does, where he found himself in fear, worry, hurt or sadness, he knew that the the wisdom his parents had passed down to him all of his 14 years was the key. Complete faith in a being who is Lord and friend to all of His beloved mankind, and the understanding that all things in life are decided by a choice shaped him into the man he was becoming.
But tragedy struck, and Jeary's life was taken just before his 15th birthday. Kerry and Arie, though blessed to know exactly where Jeary had gone, were devastated at his death.
Spring came again. The trees began to bloom, and the rain again began to feed the legendary green landscape around the hill. Kerry and Arie gave thanks to God for the 14 years they had of Jeary's life, and named their hill "Jeary Hill" in memory of their son. Together, they sat on the new swing bench Kerry had built on the front porch of the small cabin, watching the countryside explode again into color and warmth as Fall began to take its place again.
Remembering, again, her old journals, Arie was struck by an idea and led Kerry into the now leave-strewn yard around the cabin. She began pushing the leaves into small piles surrounding the tree from which they fell. There were 14 piles, and she explained that each pile represented a year of the life of their boy. Then he understood, and wept, for she had explained what he had known but could not express. For just as each leaf on each journal Arie kept represented a completion of a goal, becoming the blessing of wisdom, so did each pile of leaves reflect how much blessing and learning each of them had experienced for the years of Jeary's life. Thus was born a tradition, and in the following years, the Taylors invited neighbors and friends to share in the experience of remembering their blessings, represented by the maple leaves around the tree on Jeary Hill.
Kerry and Arie had been married 38 years when Arie was hit with a sickness the doctors could not diagnose. And, though she survived, finally casting off the sickness, her eyes were never again the same and reflected her health. The brightness had dimmed just enough for Kerry to notice. He knew he would not have her much longer.
Three years later, Arie died while sleeping in Kerry's arms. He held her, knowing he must give her up. Loneliness flooded his heart, and he looked to Jesus for support - he suddenly did not want to go on; he didn't want to live without Arie.
But, once again, he was presented with a choice. And though it was difficult, Kerry knew for certain that he was alive for a purpose. He allowed his heart to be mended and the hole Arie had left filled by the Creator. Though often sad, and still lonely, Kerry enjoyed allowing himself to become lost in memory in his spare moments.
To this day, Kerry continues the tradition of making piles from the maple leaves around the tree on the hill, inviting friends and neighbors to join him in celebration of all God has done for them and given them in their lifetimes.
Now, back from his journeys through time, the tears stream quickly and quietly down his wrinkled cheeks. He leans his head back, sleep overtaking him, and he quietly slips away - sleeping now for the last time, sweet memories of Arie and Jeary the last things to pass through his thoughts. He smiles, and is gone.
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"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."
-Ecc. 3:1-8
Summer Flowers
I got an urge to shoot some flowers on my balcony the other day, and decided I should post them here. Hope you enjoy!
Staring at the stars
I got a funny kinda chill down my back tonight, as I leaned on the balcony wall and stared up into the sky. There was nothing there unusual or special, but I forget in my rushing around in life to observe the simple things.
Ha, simple, perhaps that is a bad descriptor. The sky is anything but simple. Fascinating, though, to think about all the written works, songs, poems, commentaries and written thoughts from people over the ages regarding the sky. The stars are still as of yet untouched by man, even through his greatest efforts. And though the ocean remains our most unknown place, space for sure holds a close second.
So looking out there tonight, I made a conscious effort to just stop and observe. It was peaceful and calm, and though I do not understand much of what is out there, I still enjoyed just looking. Just a mere 100 miles off the surface of the Earth changes so many things, from gravity to atmosphere. And one small change in the system of planets, and we could either burn up, freeze, explode, or any number of other possibilities!
If there is a God willing to create this place so perfectly and plan it out so carefully, He must care about the rest of life too. He must feel our pain, enjoy our happiness, be with us in times of need and reign the blessing down on us in forms of both things we have come to take for granted and the things which we recognize as special.
I'll continue to stare into space, and wonder what is next. The fact of the matter is, anything is possible; anything can happen - its just a little hard sometimes letting God be God. It sounds silly, I know, but I'd say we all struggle with that concept; I'm willing to be one to admit it, I do every day.
Ha, simple, perhaps that is a bad descriptor. The sky is anything but simple. Fascinating, though, to think about all the written works, songs, poems, commentaries and written thoughts from people over the ages regarding the sky. The stars are still as of yet untouched by man, even through his greatest efforts. And though the ocean remains our most unknown place, space for sure holds a close second.
So looking out there tonight, I made a conscious effort to just stop and observe. It was peaceful and calm, and though I do not understand much of what is out there, I still enjoyed just looking. Just a mere 100 miles off the surface of the Earth changes so many things, from gravity to atmosphere. And one small change in the system of planets, and we could either burn up, freeze, explode, or any number of other possibilities!
If there is a God willing to create this place so perfectly and plan it out so carefully, He must care about the rest of life too. He must feel our pain, enjoy our happiness, be with us in times of need and reign the blessing down on us in forms of both things we have come to take for granted and the things which we recognize as special.
I'll continue to stare into space, and wonder what is next. The fact of the matter is, anything is possible; anything can happen - its just a little hard sometimes letting God be God. It sounds silly, I know, but I'd say we all struggle with that concept; I'm willing to be one to admit it, I do every day.
Monday, July 7, 2008
A Poem for Life
Where did the days go, where we were innocent and free?
Time didn't matter, our minds weren't clouded with stress and worry.
Our only jobs were weeding the gardens and feeding the cat,
and when mama would vacuum we'd say, "I wanna do that!"
There were no fears of finances, strife over friends,
badgering of politicians, doing anything for their ends.
The food was provided, and support always there;
and who really cared who would cut our hair?
The entire world was so big, and the future so so bright,
opportunity besieged from everywhere, front left and right.
It invited adventure, experiment, new things and new places,
we couldn't wait to get out, explore, it shone in our faces.
Oh to remember what life is all for,
not business or pleasure or money or more.
But simple detachment for God and for Man,
displaying God's character despite life's demands.
Success can't be measured in riches and wealth,
nor can life be fulfilling by money or health;
but by only two things can we succeed in this wild -
The Wisdom of Solomon and the Faith of a Child.
Greetings
Hello,
My name is Pete and this is my public blog - I am excited to start this little project, as it will be my first public blog. I enjoy playing around with my writing, as well as just making observations as life passes - you will find all of that in the coming entries, and I hope that they will bring a smile to your face or perspective to your contemplation.
To begin, I will be re-posting a few items I have posted on FaceBook and other places lately - please always feel free to comment on what you find, whether it be good or bad. I shall always love to hear your opinions.
With that, let me wish you a good evening, and I pray you, your loved ones and friends are safe after this somewhat dangerous holiday weekend!
Good night,
Pete
My name is Pete and this is my public blog - I am excited to start this little project, as it will be my first public blog. I enjoy playing around with my writing, as well as just making observations as life passes - you will find all of that in the coming entries, and I hope that they will bring a smile to your face or perspective to your contemplation.
To begin, I will be re-posting a few items I have posted on FaceBook and other places lately - please always feel free to comment on what you find, whether it be good or bad. I shall always love to hear your opinions.
With that, let me wish you a good evening, and I pray you, your loved ones and friends are safe after this somewhat dangerous holiday weekend!
Good night,
Pete
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