Treasure Hunt

Poetry is both a telescope and a treasure map. Gaze through either end of the poetry telescope; you will see things in ways you could never have dreamed. Follow closely, decipher the directions, and the treasure map of poetry will lead you through valuable experiences to treasure chest of thought.

Swiss Cheese

...vowing that this one would be different. This blog wouldn't fizzle out like so many others. I would stick to it and continue posting. Only I didn't, as you can see. Hark! The sound of crunching as I eat my hollow words.

It hasn't been from lack on ideas. No, they have perpetually bubbled from the great artesian aquifer of Thought. Perhaps the abundance of ideas has churned into a marsh I dare not trust. Other things fill my days. Books to read, routes to ride, obligations to fill, and, of course, work. What would we do without work?

Not work, perhaps?

Ho, ho, so silly. Thank you, smarty pants.

Please excuse us for a moment.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to write full time? Devote every day to the craft, instead of only the spare moments. Forget about work. Hide away from annoying interruptions. Find a houseboat home. Enjoy writer's high - and writer's perspective - every day.

Writing is shockingly similar to painting. I prefer realism when it comes to painting, although I admire all styles (excepting cubism, of course). My limited experience has taught me that everything is never as it seems. Let's pretend we are painting a picture that contains a door. Everyone knows that doors have square corners. Okay, so let's ensure the door we are painting has square corners.

Except not so fast. Depending on the perspective, the door we are painting might have very un-square corners. Therefore, to create a realistic reproduction, we must paint exactly what we see - not what we think we see.

In writing, the picture becomes an idea and the paints become the words. The difficulty lies in "painting" the idea how it actually is, not how one thinks it is. The difficulty lies in choosing concise words that portray no more, no less, than the original. How often do figurative doors contain square corners, simply because I have
mis-chosen words.

Differences of perceptions always form; misperceptions always form. This is simply a product of perspective. Ironically - there is always a flip side - these differences and errors produce refreshing individual style, both in painting and writing. The artist's signature appears through the very inconsistencies of which they are unconscious. Yet the term "inconsistencies" is purely subjective. Who can rightly judge one perception as more nearly correct than another? However, when striving for excellence and all realism flees, humour covers a multitude of sins.

Back to the writing dream, I'm afraid it is an illusion. After all, a dream is purely a vacation from reality. To spend time in recluse is to cut oneself off from reality. And how could one portray - and discover - reality when they are isolated in an artificial world?

Dreams are fantastic, but I'm afraid this one is Swiss cheese - full of holes. Yet very well aged.

Your and My Romances

Are you enjoying your romance with God? Read it again: Your. Ro. Mance. With. God.

Romance stories aren't unfamiliar to any of us. Most likely, we've all imagined ourselves as one of the lovers in a book. Or perhaps you like someone particularly much. (Be honest with yourself ;) Your thoughts drift towards them. You worry about them, can't wait to talk to them, and wish to know them better. You desire to share their glowing laughter and sorrowing pain. They fascinate you, and if you could, you'd spend all day with them. Or perhaps the rest of your life.

Is this your perspective of God?

The Bible supplies us with plenty of analogies to our relationship with God and Jesus: Father, Brother, the Good Shepherd, Friend. It uses the analogy of a bride and bridegroom to the church and Jesus. But for God and you to be lovers?

You were honest before, so I'll be honest now. Like all relationships, my relationship with God has all manners of ups and downs. As much as I wish I could say there aren't any downs, I can't. One thing I can say, however: He has never been the one to drift away. A few other points. God doesn't need me to worry about Him. And while I haven't carried much of His sadness, He certainly has carried mine. I want to share His laughter and know Him better. I'm fascinated by His majesty, love, mercy, and wisdom. I- I think I'd like to spend the rest of my life with Him. I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be a boring romance.

Working in the Light

I did something new yesterday. I wandered around telling people about the One who "came to touch the hardness of our hearts." I didn't approach it without apprehension, but as I'm finding more and more, the little fears never materialized. As the bundle in my hand shrank, the bundle in my head expanded. Have I ever said that my mind is bursting with thoughts? Nah, I didn't think so.

It could hardly have been a more beautiful day. I used to think nothing was prettier than a sunny summer day. That was before I tasted the vibrancy of dusty clear day of Indian summer. And when you mix in some twilight too... Which is why I went walking with a friend a couple evenings ago. The sights and sounds we discovered! A pumpkin cat sitting silently on a fence. Geese honking, wings whirring, floating blackly on a pale sky. Trees blushing at their reflection on still water. Lights glowing and beckoning through the dim. However, I have a question. Why do beautiful things hurt?

If Indian summer was a beverage, what colour would it be? Perhaps light blue with wisps of white and swirled with orange. Or maybe layered yellow, orange, and red. The only problem being if the colours mixed completely, you'd end up with a lovely brown hue. Appetizing! Or what would it taste like? Dying leaves? Dirt? Apple cider? Apple cider! I think it would be sweet and tangy and bitter. But no matter what, a shot of twilight would top it off perfectly. I wish I could fill of bottle with this delight and savour it year-round. Except I'm afraid the secret to its sweetness is its scarcity.

Too Much Green

If only this radar could detect aircraft. A certain POTUS and First Lord of the Admiralty wouldn't have believed it for a moment. In fact, they might have dropped dead. Even a contemporary air traffic controller would be shocked at the volume of information this thing displays. Alas, that is the essence of the problem. So perceptible and sensitive, it picks up everything. Unfortunately, "everything" is too much. If only there was a way to dismantle it, or leave it behind, or something. Good grief, even an off button would be rather handy.

The targets never suspect its presence. In most cases, they don't realize it exists. But woe to the carrier in an environment crowded with targets. The green blips will multiply. They will invade the screen. Every minute detail will appear. Only there are too many of them. The information will come faster and faster. No time to sort, process, or absorb it. This torrent will build up into a creeping pool of green. Don't underestimate its power to overwhelm. Perhaps it will drown you. The only way to reduce the flow is to reduce the number of targets. Flee! Except after you have vacated the zone, the echos will come. And then you will remember that you forgot to forget the instrument. Hurray. Perhaps there is a flip side.

If you identify, my condolences. If you don't, my congratulations.

-radar kid