"Some say with age that our purpose comes clear."

“I see the opposite happening here.”

What a stressful past couple of weeks. I guess that comes with change. And work. And life. I have recently moved into a room that shares a bathroom with another coworker. Her house is being renovated, so she and another coworker had to relocate during the process. That’s where the stress begins. For starters, change is hard for a lot of people with developmental disorders (one the most recent buzz words for what used to be mentally retarted*). They get into a routine, and they like to know what’s going on. This is also very true with people with a lot of people with autism, which this coworker has. It’s just different, and I think once the adjustments have been made for that, things will settle back down again. My excitement and enjoyment of here and doing good work has not faltered yet.

I think one reason that I am attracted to becoming a priest is because so many of the ones I know are great people. They’re people that I look up to. And, for the most part, they seem to be really enjoying themselves and their work. It seems like something I could buy into. David and Jennifer, the two priests at the church I've been going to, fit into this category. Church of our Savior is where I’ve been going for the last six weeks or so. And while I’m still slowly melting into the congregation, David and Jennifer both know me by name, and we exchange weekly hugs every Sunday. It’s been a great place to be. I feel confidant that I will be transferring my church membership there sometime soon. It feels like a grown-up thing to do. I am glad that I have found a church home, although I’m not quite sure I want to get used to doing “grown-up” things just yet. I’ll try slowly easing into it.

“Are we losing the fight? Are we growing backwards with time?”

I'm just a little bit caught in the middle Life is a maze, and love is a riddle."

I don't know where to go, can't do it alone I've tried. And I don't know why"

It was the summer of 2009. I was on summer staff at Camp McDowell. Not the best summer on record in my life, but one made bearable by where I was and the people around me. Most of that story is one for another time. The specific memory I have now from that time period is that there were several of us that played hacky sack through most of the summer. One or two of the staff had a few we could play with, so we did. We weren't that great, but we were having fun. On occasion, when we were going through a particularly bad string of drops - like only one or two kicks for 4 or 5 minutes, or however long, someone would say, "O.K. guys, change scenery." What this would mean was that everybody would go to a new spot in our circle. While the circle itself was in the same spot, the people in it were standing in different spots. You had different scenery - a different point of view. Although the actions, the goal, the game were still the same, there was something still different about it. And it most of the time it worked. We started doing better.

I think this is what moving to Virginia and working at Innisfree has done for me. It has offered a change of scenery. I'm still looking at life's challenges and my goals and everything else I have in my head, just a little differently because I'm literally and figuratively in a new place. I've done this with small things before - math problems, small repairs that I couldn't figure out, and things of the like. I would leave them and come back. I don't know why I haven't applied it on a larger life scale before. I am certainly not trying to leave or run away from my problems or goals or anything like that. I have simply changed the scenery. And after two months, I started slowly looking at them again, from a new point of view.

And I think that Lent and Easter offer us the opportunity to do just that - take a good long look at where we are in life, then change the scenery. Tear it down, maybe leave for a while, and then come look at it again, with a refreshed set of eyes.

I think persistence is a good ingredient to mix in with this, I'm just not sure how to mix it in without rambling.

Hoppy (almost)Easter.

I am just a little boy lost in the moment. I'm so scared but I don't show it. I can't figure it out. It's bringing me down I know. I've got to let it go. And just enjoy the show."

"He loved constantly, instantly, spontaneously, without thought or words."

"That's what he taught me."

Reminiscent. That's how I've been feeling the last couple days. At first I thought I was getting lonely, but I don't think that's what it really was. First off, by meaning of the word, loneliness would imply that I'm alone. Secondly, I think it would mean I don't want to be here and that things most likely aren't going well. Neither is true. I am not alone. I have plenty of friends and family physically close enough that I could get to them if I felt the need, and even more that I could call literally whenever I needed to talk. And things are going well.
I think reminiscent fits because while I am happy here and very much enjoying everything and everyone, I do miss my friends and family back home. I miss being apart of things that I know are great, and being there to celebrate with and for them. Change. I do not regret, nor would I change, the way it is happening to me right now.

I am reading Lamb by Christopher Moore. Mostly for Lent, and partly because it is one of my favorite books and I haven't read it in a while. I hope your Lenten journey is all it needs to be. And if you don't do lent, then I hope you're having a great week.

p.s. If you're having trouble thinking of a birthday/Christmas gift for me. I would love to have some kind of print of my last post, the poem Shake the Dust. Handmade or store-bought will be accepted with equal enthusiasm.

“Love is not something you think about, it is a state in which you dwell.”

Shake the Dust

This is for the fat girls.

This is for the little brothers.

This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.

This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.

This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters.

Shake the dust.

This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,

for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,

for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,

for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. 

Shake the dust.

This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god.

Shake the dust.

For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,

for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,

for the kid who's always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,

for the girl who loves somebody else.

Shake the dust.

This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that is won't come.

For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.

For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.

Do not let a moment go by that doesn't remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.

Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.

This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,

for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.

For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers' singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner's shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.

This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who'll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.

This is for the biggots,

this is for the sexists,

this is for the killers.

This is for the big house, pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.

This? This is for you.

Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.

Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.

So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.

All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.

So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.

Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.

Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.

So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be.

-Anis Mojgani

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent."

"It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction."

One week in Virginia. It's gone so quickly, as I had expected it would. And I expect it will keep going this quickly, maybe for a few more weeks. I find myself more comfortable here than I expected. At least more comfortable more quickly that I expected. I think the feeling can be best described as going to a physical place that you know like the back of your hand. Somewhere you can see in your mind no matter where you are. Somewhere you are comfortable being at, no matter what you're doing there. For me, that place is Camp McDowell. It's a comfortable place, and no matter why I'm going there, I know I'm going to have a good time because I am so familiar with the place. I know the people who work there. I know how stuff is "supposed" to go. I hope you have somewhere like that. And somehow Innisfree feels like this comfortable to me. I don't know how or why it is this way, or what the next year holds. But being here is a good thing for me where I'm at.

Also, I went to church this morning, and it was good. I really enjoyed being there, I usually do in almost any church. The people were really friendly, and the priest gave a really good sermon. I'm pretty sure I'll go back next week, and most Sundays that I can. I knew I wanted to go to church if I could while I was here. I've always found life goes better If I have a good church community to go to. Episcopalian is the spice I like best right now. Whatever works for you on Sundays is ok by me.

Irrelevant side note: In almost 25 years of living, most times I still don't know what to do with my hands.

"In order to form an immaculate member of a flock of sheep one must, above all, be a sheep."

If I die now before I'm old, my story will be less than told.

There's so much more to suffer through before I meet again with you.

Man, what a not fun weekend. I had worse some ways, but it's been a while since I've had something weighing heavy on my heart. I guess the best way to describe what I've felt is to say tell you that my heart is beeping. Innocence was taken from the world too soon. Taken from our country. Taken from that city. Taken from that school. From our hearts. Someone crossed a line we are not comfortable crossing - killing defenseless children. Honestly, someone crossed a line when they killed someone, but they were totally out of bounds by killing children. I hope those children are playing and screaming and shouting and eating as much sugar as they possibly can, and just having a grand old time. I hope those teachers are basking in whatever kind of glory and sunshine they want and deserve. I hope that shooter has some kind of peace of mind, wherever he is. If there is a hell, I would assume he's there. If I'm honest, I don't know that I want him to go to heaven right now. I want to want him to be with God in paradise. Maybe that counts for something. My heart is beeping.

And now the arguments start. Some will argue out grief, others to try and actually accomplish something. What should we do about guns? What was wrong with the guy who did this? Why? What if's and What about's? For me, I'll leave the experts to figure out what's best, the smart and sensible ones to discuss and suggest ideas, and the lesser minded (having nothing to with IQ) to argue about it. Prayers should be involved too.

To save me from rambling, feel free to contact me about issues regarding recent events, or just in general, you would like my opinion. As a heads up, I consider myself an issues person who leans more-so to the left. And, again, if I'm honest with you and myself, I haven't figured out how exactly I feel about everything. But feel free to share your thought with me anyways.

Advent is in full swing. And I love it.

I've tried so hard and I've been so blind. I thought we could all grieve one at a time.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep,..."

"...and miles to go before I sleep,..."

I am back after a long hiatus. Maybe it was needed. Maybe not. I've done a lot of wondering since I last share my thoughts. Sometimes I was lost, others not. But I am back here and feel comfortable sharing thoughts with you and the rest of the world. Well, although it is available to the rest of the world, I'm sure very few people will actually read the thoughts that I am sending out. I guess I consider this my message in a bottle, thrown out to the sea in hopes that many may read and share, but knowing that the odds of that happening are slim. But I digress...

This past weekend was one to remember. I had the chance to spend it with people I love. I got to make a bad decision while surrounded by people who wouldn't let me do anything I would regret. A good friend was ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church. And it was good.

I have now been to all three ordination services in the Episcopal church: a deacon, priest, and bishop. What I notice about all three is how much of a celebration each is by the people of the church. It is seen as a major life accomplishment to be honored with an ordination. And rightfully so, I believe. It is a big accomplishment. And I am glad for my friend Brandt, who is just beginning his ministries in the church.

My call is still taking shape, and ordination is still a possibility. I will trust in God and the people around me, as well as in myself, to get me where I can use my gifts to best suit those around me.

"...and miles to go before I sleep."