One Sunday afternoons, I take time to call and catch with friends. They tell me they attended church that morning and asked if I did likewise.  I skirt the question by asking them what their preacher talked about.

 Almost unanimously, the response is, "I forget but it was good."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

 "Oh it's all in my notes and I can't find them, right now." 

"What is the point of going?"

"Oh cause it makes me feel good"

UMMMM well UMMMM guess we all have things or activities that give us comfort. However I am not convinced that is the goal. I was under the impression it was to change.  Too be continued.. off to work….

When I ran across the video of "The Chinese Backstreet Boys", I burst forth with so much laughter my house mates came running in. The Chinese expressions are pricelessly funny.  Tonight, I gave the words closer inspection and though they were not intended in a spiritual context putting in such light spins, naturally twist the video in a new direction.  When I think of the creator singing that song to mankind, I am awed. He risked it all, when He came to earth, which created an avenue of restoration between mankind and the Father.

Althrough loneliness has always been a friend of mine,
I'm leaving my life in your hands
People say I'm crazy and that I am blind
Risking it all in a glance
And how you got me blind is still a mystery
I can't get you out of my head
Don't care what is written in your history

As long as you're here with me

The raging bull inside desperately seeks a portal to breath fresh air. If I can only tame it, then, we can coexist in peace. I try decaffeinating my diet, refrain from refined sugars, exercise, take the right proportion of magnesium, niacin, Fish Oil, antioxidants, A, B, C, D, E and every other supplement that wars against age and the encroaching deteriorating environment. Yet, the raging bull (rb) refuses to be serene, satisfied, and still. I keep myself from extraordinary amounts of aggravation; by putting distance between those who create it and me. That people group, I call Job's friends. I listen to soothing music, take lingering hot baths with Chopin, get an occasional massage and still rb maintains a life of his own. The only key to rb's restraint is when I engage in visual, creative activities. Hence, I discipline myself to have my morning creative sessions in the studio.  Though I am not satisfied with the marks of with my paint and brush, it exceedingly soothes the rb beast. Even when I just take a gob of paint and smear it onto a canvas, something tranquillizes inside. I lose myself in the process; at last, rb has found the portal. Mega endorphins are released, the creativity becomes therapeutic, and shadowing my 12 years with a psychiatrist. Then…..Then, I see the artwork of younger, talented people who squander their talent and rb is swirled to life again. I feel so intensely foolish and like a pretender. I scamper to conceal my inadequacies and the nanogram of talent and the cycle recycles.

How fun it is to reconnect with lost acquaintances, to see how much they have aged while such few years have passed by me.  Of course, it helps to have one's birthday surgerically removed.  I lived in Baltimore for awhile and not so far from Johns Hopkins Medical University. It is there I discovered an experimental research study, where by the means of modern technology I can stop seeing birthdays pass by me. And the proof is seen when I look in the mirror without my glasses on, my skin is so tender and dewy, my eyes are bright and clear.

 Monday at lunch with an old friend, I felt as though I had put on my favorite kid-leather gloves, my Sunday hat, and my dancing shoes. Though, our chilens had grown, while our lives had witnessed various and different scenery, it was as though no time had passed between us. The laughter was still in abundant supply while warm embracing moments comforted my often-old soul.

We spoke of our lost loves, how to fool others with hair color, our personal fashion styles and how we still like to play dress-up. We laughed at the goofy things that others snub their nose and call foolishness or childishness. We revealed the work of our creative natures by describing the fruit of our hands. We failed to share the mishaps and the massive bruises that live heaped upon our faces and hearts. We danced around the hurts we caused one another in favor of just enjoying the moment-as they last as long as a water droplet on a hot stove. At the end of describing our colorful journeys we made promises to meet, again ,bringing our childlike wonder with no understanding of disappointment, heartache or suffering even if it's only for midday lunch.