Sitting here, staring down the sea, I feel freedom the most.
After a few minutes, I will fasten my jacket, pull on my hat, face down the wind, and walk towards the train. Towards home. Where beautiful babies wait for their mother.
Whatever it is that understands the physics of this thing that is happening to us would have to be quite remarkable, with giant oaks for feet, perhaps, and a voice like wind through a forest and a mind that creates creations of which it might ponder in a way of learning what it already knows.
In my opinion, there are two essential problems with believing God is something He isn't. The first problem is that it wrecks your life, and the second is that it makes God look like an idiot.
The way John writes about Jesus makes you feel like the sum of our faith is a kind of constant dialog with Jesus about whether or not we love Him... John seemed to embrace the relational dynamic of our faith... He revealed how none of the disciples truly understood Jesus and how they were all screwups, and he didn't make himself look good, either... That's guts, if you ask me.
I wondered why it was that when people talked about the fall of man, about the Garden of Eden, they never talked about how people went around naked. If you ask me, the most obvious thing that happened after the Fall was that people started wearing all kinds of clothes... I mean, evolution may explain how we came from apes, but it does nothing to explain why we wear clothes.
Sitting in Malahide, waiting.Feeling sick and unsteady, and not the least bit weak,physically and spiritually.The brain works overtimewhile the body hibernates.I see evidence of boats and mossy landfancy cars and cigarettesmen in nice shoes.The sky hints that it could be blue- eventually -today.Until then, we wait.
I must be a fool to ever think of trading this: writing in Malahide, for staying in Kansas. I know there are coffee shops anywhere, and surely some lovely ones back "home", but there is no sea, no moss, no ships, no newness, no fear.