That inner wakeup call comes early on preaching Sunday mornings. Came a bit late today, well after the three o’clock goal, compressing a bit the schedule of reviewing sermon notes and writing a blog post, breakfast &c. Reviewing the nonsense takes an hour but &c takes only twenty minutes, ten on Monday and Friday walking days if &c excludes cutting myself shaving. But I haven’t done that in years. Life Is Good says that company’s motto or slogan, in fact I think that’s even the name of the company, and it’s copyrighted or even patented, imagine having sole rights to a string of words, what a crock. But I like their hats and shirts and stuff anyway. Life IS good just for the breathing and food and wine, beer, bit of scotch now and then, love, loving & being loved, and especially at this age still having companionship in the Time, and up here in this castle looking out all directions at my life. I started in St. Andrews, we lived in the Cove from when I was two years...

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday: Sunday of the Passion. Two services, both times being tantalized and seduced by Luke’s report of Jesus’ victorious entry, riding into Jerusalem on a donkey to welcoming shouts of “hosanna” as we lot sing “All glory, laud and honor.” Lifted up joyfully, only suddenly to be brought down mentally, emotionally and dumped, left in the existential crisis of our human brutalization of God the Son. Going through this twice tomorrow morning, at noon I will come home too beat down even to think. I will have a large glass of red, then fall into nap, a long sleep that I pray will not torment me with dreams.  Every spring at this time, we beat ourselves up with the gospel stories of Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, sadistic abuse and horrifying death at human hands. We do not face, or we overlook, or we are too naive even to see, that paradoxically, according our own theology, the sacrifice of Calvary was God’s own doing, the will and work of our God’s own self, lex orandi...

Six-oh-two and just arose, it's too late to write my blog this morning, not wanting to anyway, when I looked at the clock last night it said Fri 12:01 AM. I thought it was nine o'clock but the evening had been talked away and was gone. Now it's time to sip the black Kona as the chocolate finishes melting on the tongue, and get ready to walk. Outside immediately upon waking, cool out, pleasantly cool, the porch rail is wet from last night's rain, sky heavily overcast, but flashing rubies and emeralds are clear looking out across the black velvet of my beloved Bay. Where would I be if I could this morning. Already there, here, right here, already where I would be if I could. There's that flashing green light I used to watch from 2308 predawns when I'd walk down the steps and the concrete path to get Linda's paper, ever mindful for bears having swum across from Tyndall Field. And somewhere out there in the darkness, rowing softly on the velvet I guess,  Χάρ...

This doesn’t seem to be a good time of life for learning new things. Perceiving, okay not too bad, realizing, discerning, seeing something - ἴδωσιν is the word I’ve always liked from Mark 9:1, root ὁράω I see with my mind, discern, experience, realize, where, perhaps for years having been otherwise orientated, I hadn’t noticed it before, and now feeling like I’d been blind, jiminy why didn’t I ever notice that, it’s right there if you look for it; for example, hints of high christology in Mark’s gospel, okay, I feel like an idiot. But new things, no. Arabic: recently I thought to teach myself something about arabic with help available online, what a beautiful written language, ach du lieber, nothing guttural about arabic, maybe I could learn the squiggles and reading them backwards (backwards: there's a political fox paw). But then starting, I find out arabic is unimaginably complex deep and beyond just what one sees on a page, it’d have to be native to me ever to grasp the nuances...

Join The Party And so we continue with what must be the bizarrest leapest-year of short American history. Pray it’s not all this short. This time next year POTUS will have an American flag on his German-owned, British-built Bentley and America will have been made so great again that even PrinceW will wear a shaggy comb-over DCut with split-ends. An online CNN piece has it right, “this is all your fault, John Boehner and Mitch McConnell.” Republican voter outrage turning to rage is entirely voter response to outrageous GOP leadership who should resign enmass and if they don’t resign they should be as booted from office as Republican rank and file are trashing their advice on establishment presidential candidates. Sudden they panic and adopt TexTed as one of their own ? I don’t think so. Again I call for my constitutional amendment that says politicians may hold national elective office for two terms only; if you go home at the end of the first term, you get a certifi...

Ides of March & stories read or told Neither that imaginative nor that artistic to put it to use, I didn’t need “calligram” from Anu Garg this morning, but his “thought” is even more intriguing than usual A THOUGHT FOR TODAY: Beware of the stories you read or tell; subtly, at night, beneath the waters of consciousness, they are altering your world. -Ben Okri, poet and novelist (b. 15 Mar 1959)  because I read or tell lots of stories. Generally not fiction, though I enjoy some, including short stories such as recently David Constantine’s “In Another Country”. Mostly both fanciful religious and true personal reminiscences of real people. Besides my biblical trove that gets better and better as I read and re-read, three storybooks especially come to mind. A book of autobiographical sketches, essays, by an author who grew up in Wyoming and whose life has been even bigger a joy and a mess than mine. Another book is the same format of essays, memoirs, also autobiographical,...

pensieve MacBook opened in 1973 just now, Jim Croce singing “Time In A Bottle” where I was when I closed it last night. Turned off the wi-fi but not the moment. Clear vision across the Bay but heavy overcast this morning, rain? IDK, but the living room sliding door to the porch was wide open all night. Why did I do that, where was I last evening? Somewhere between 1951 and 1976, Showboat's  “We Could Make Believe” and Crystal Gayle singing “When I Dream.” Were you there? I was. Just last evening. “If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I’d like to do Is to save every day ‘Till eternity passes away Just to spend them with you” It’s the problem with aging: we can't save time in a bottle. “If I could make days last forever If words could make wishes come true I’d save every day like a treasure and then, Again, I would spend them with you” Evidently the overcast was that heavy it sank, because outside is total fog now.  Promises to be a dam...