The Blog has Moved!

My blog has moved to a new site.  It is:

http://awanderingtraveler.wordpress.com/

I will leave this site up so you can read through the past blog postings from the last 2 years.  I hope you continue to read and comment on my new site.

Blessings to you.
Traveler (Jeffery)

It lived up to the hype!

"Understandably happy to be specific
When I'm snorkeled and finned
In the blue Pacific.
I admire the damsel fish
Feel terrific
As I float on the face
Of the blue Pacific."

Lyrics by from the song Blue Pacific by Michael Franks.

http://www.metrolyrics.com/blue-pacific-video-michael-franks.html

Alone and free, I felt completely at peace and at home, one with my liquid environs. Floating motionless, bathed in turquoise tranquility, not quite an intruder, uninvited yet included, I was nonetheless, for a moment or two, an aquatic participant in an choreographed display of color and movement and unity.  I saw true community, each fish, differing in size, hue and species moving in unison with the pulse and rhythm of the waves and current. Never did they seem worried by the change in direction or bubbles or jostling.  They belonged.  And I wish I did.

I love snorkeling!

There is something unearthly about it yet the sense of effortless weightlessness is very appealing to me.  I can't explain it. I feel completely at home in the surge of the ocean. All I could hear in my inner iPod was the song Blue Pacific by Michael Franks. Round and round it went.

Years ago, I had a lump under my ear.  My mother took me to the Cleveland Clinic and was told by the doctor that I should have been a fish and in my evolutionary process that lump was a malfunctioned gill.  My mother was fit to be tied! (It turned out to be a benign tumor.)  But maybe the doctor was onto something. Maybe he was not as crazy as we thought at the time.

Did I say that I love snorkeling?

Our just completed eastern Caribbean cruise which helped Deborah and myself celebrate our 20th year of marriage was an unqualified success. The ship was great, the food was plentiful and delicious, the cabin stewards friendly and welcoming, the islands beautiful and called to us. We went to the Dominican Republic, St. Thomas and Tortola in the Virgin Islands and Great Stirrup Cay in the Bahamas.  I was so amazed that many of the pictures I took looked liked shots in a travel magazine!  It was truly beautiful and lived up to what I had heard and seen on the Travel Channel.  One thing I truly believe is that I could live there year-round.  All I need is a chance to prove that I am up to the task!

While I would love to draw some pithy spiritual insight, and I could, I won't.  I'll just leave you with one picture...and they say it speaks a thousand words.

Wishing I was still Snorkeled and Finned!

Traveler

What's That In The Air?

                                          (Picture taken by my friend Larry Nielsen. )

Stepping outside morning as I was taking my daughter to an early morning babysitting job, I felt my senses assaulted.

But not in the usual way.

The usual way is a visceral blow to the entire body, a frontal attack of surrounding, sweating proportions. Humidity and heat are not my friend! The sudden sauna effect of Florida airspace. I am wilting again just at the memory!

Today was different.

Instantly, as I opened the front door, deliciously, my skin and senses were surrounded and caressed by cool, need I say, frigid (at least compared to the week's other mornings) bliss! Arrested for the moment, I stopped and breathed deeply. I think it has finally arrived, my friend, Autumn. Now before you think I have become delusional and unstable in thought (Yes, I know you already think that i am only stating the obvious), Autumn has arrived in Florida for the moment. I know, I know it will once again turn blisteringly hot and oppressive and sticky and sweaty and..... But just for the moment, the coolness wrapped like a garment around me and that little voice inside my head said:

"Why, Oh Why don't I live in Colorado?"

I was born for the mountains, lush pine trees, verdant fields and thinness of air. The flutter of hummingbirds wings in the dewy freshness of dawn's first light. The comforting aroma of hot, sweet coffee, my lone companion on the porch swing. The rosy hue, the tint of pure light welcomes me for another day above ground.

I think that Autumn holds such a place in my heart not because it conjures up memories past of school and football and hayrides and campfires but because it holds such promise for the months leading up to spring. Dark quiet cold mornings, wrapped in my blanket as I make my way to my prayer corner. Intimate times of communion and ancient prayers between my Creator and me. This season is the time to hunker down and recharge, refilling my soul with that which I will need for the journey. There seems to be more family time inside, deepening relationships around the dinner table and the game table. My time for catching up on the pile of books next to my bed, in my office, in the bathroom and on my iPod. Time for self reflection and dedication anew to the preparation for the coming season of Nativity and onward to the Resurrectional Hope in Pascha (Orthodox Easter).

As the seasons change around you, embrace them as a friend, dare I say, a lover. Hold tight for they will soon be past and only a memory. Daily Bread. That is what we are told to pray for. Each day holds promise and direction, grace and glory. Don't miss what you hold in your hand in anticipation of what your might be grasping at tomorrow.

Thinking about getting a sweater out!

Traveler

The Music of Memories

In a recent blog posting by a fellow traveler, she put forth thoughts of what she “liked”. I liked the following bit very much. It’s a bit funny to me, ‘cause I was just thinking about that very thing a few days earlier, although in prose not quite as elegant.

“I like music that rifles through memories, unwrapping them from tissue and time, shaking them out, holding them at arms length, turning them slowly so you can see them in this time's light.”

Music is such a funny thing. That it can elicit such strong emotions and deep feelings is even more amazing. I mean you can’t even put handles on what you hear, can’t grasp it, wrestle with it or converse with it.

Yet….

It remains one of the most powerful forces on this earth.

It does the following:

…it stirs the depths of soul and creates yearning for the past and future, all at the same time.
…it creates palettes of tangible mind-color, allowing me to create masterpieces of cobbled-together memories, both brilliant and luxuriant in the good and ever darker pieces of remembered trial and travail in the less good.
…it grants access to visceral responses, long forgotten, yet stopping my heart and breath, just like the first time. Cold chills, lingered kisses, embarrassed responses.

I, being a lover of most things music (Rap and country excluded), have such a library of remembered thoughts attached to music in general and songs in particular that I find it almost impossible to listen to anything and not connect the dots to a very pervasive memory. Here are a few of the dots of what I mean:

When listening to either “The Vendor” by Ricardo Silveria or “Dragonfly Summer” by Michael Franks, I always think of my wife, sitting next to me at Gray’s Hotel in Manitou Springs, Colorado. The windows are open, breeze gently blowing the sheer curtains, the scent of rain, heavy. I can see the Rockies out the window and am slightly chilled by the whisper on the air. I am content and at peace, my heart full of love for my wife, the moment and the music. Indelibility etched on the fabric of my mind, the first sounds of the guitar take me there instantly.

I return to High School on the paths of Journey, especially the Escape album. I remember the feeling of promise for the future, the unknown vast and daunting. It feels familiar and safe. I know every riff of the guitar, clang of cymbal, thump of bass, wail of the vocals. I remember skipping school and standing in line for 8 hours to get Journey tickets. I remember selling them because the girl I was with didn’t want to go. Feelings of regret and loss, misspent youth. Time and event never to be repeated or regained.

I savor the music of Keith Green and Bob Bennett, Christian artists both. The wave of First Love for my Saviour rises and falls to the rhythms, rhymes and harmonies. “How Can They Live Without Jesus” by Keith Green has never, ever failed to move heart, even in my darkest moments. I can still sense the loss I felt when I first heard of Keith’s death. I never met him but felt like I knew him and I deeply grieved. He has so touched and shaped my life. I will see him one day. If I had a dime for everytime I played one of Bob’s songs I would be a rich man. Freshness and beauty, majesty and mystery always rise during a playing of “Mountain Cathedrals” or “Altar in the Field.” What an amazing songwriter and talented musician!

Tears of joy almost always spring forth when “Lifesong” by MercyMe is heard. I recall the hotel room I was in when my life began anew, after years of being A Wandering Traveler on the wide road that leads to destruction. Faithful prayers and family members, we never travel the path of Salvation alone. Guides, seen and unseen, line the path and light the way.

There are some people I will never, ever, tire of listening to: Pat Matheny, The Rippingtons, Bob Bennett, Michael Franks, Acoustic Alchemy, Duncan Sheik. The list goes on and on. I could listen to my ever-present iPod to infinity and still have memories to nourish my heart and soul with.

As my heart becomes more in-tune with the Master Musician, the strings of my heart, soul and body become more intertwined and easier to play. I believe that I am changing from being an electric with durable, steel strings to a classical with supple, nylon strings. Structured prayers, ancient hymns and lilting voices in unison draw me closer to the Maker. I become one with those around me, offering my all and my voice in supplication and thanksgiving, worshiping at the feet of Three in One who sings the life-giving hymn.

Hoping my “Lifesong” sings to Him.

Traveler

DeHungerize!

I find that as I get older (which is every minute of the day) I discover that my attention span is getting shorter and shorter. I’m not sure if this has to do with age, loss of grey matter or greater attention to the details of life. I find myself taking longer and more circuitous mental routes when I read a book, article or blog. It seems to take FOREVER to finish a page, let alone a chapter. I find myself being inextricably being drawn to the minute and parsed, the “turn of phrase”, the “Oh, that was a marvelous/interesting/brilliant way to get your point across” phraseology. Yet I don’t really feel robbed of time. I feel like I have been given a gift, the opportunity to really chew up that piece of mental steak, the ability to wring the last precious drop of mental fluidity from someone else’s vast storehouse of useful and useless information.

Bits such as:

“They caught my eyes...the trees bedecked in white blossoms. They were lovely, lacey like a cotillion frock.”
Or
“I love that the trees cling to their frocks of cranberry, plum, fire, and tangerine days and weeks and months on end.”

I wonder why that is?

I feel like the guy sitting on the couch in the Snickers commercial wondering where all his hunger goes after he takes a bite of a Snickers bar. (It ends up somewhere in Germany.)

“DeHungerize!”

Maybe I have just needed to take smaller bites of the intellectual/ spiritual/ mature perspectives of others. I mean, isn’t that what we told our children to do when their cheeks were puffed out, distended to the utmost in an attempt to cram in every last morsel of delectable goodness?

Here are a couple of bits of what I mean:

“There is only one thing worse than blindness . . . having sight and no vision.”
Or
“I often feel I'm waiting on God to do something; answered prayer, doors of opportunity, spiritual breakthrough. Am I waiting on Him or is He waiting on me?”

I have so much to learn and digest and so little time! My mind seems like a sponge, sucking up every drop of life giving moisture, yet it doesn’t seem to make it into the instant recall bin. “Why can’t I remember what the guy or gal said? That was perfect!” I so long to be able to string all the amazing phrases together and sound absolutely brilliant and intelligent and look like the wizened traveler on the road of pilgrimage.

Pride? Maybe that why I can’t always remember them because I have enough problems with pride without others piling it on. I already have a too-inflated opinion of me.

Maybe it’s because it’s not necessarily for others? Maybe it is just for me, a gift from the Almighty Trinity, just for me, just for journey towards Salvation.

I really loved the Sci/Fi book series, “Dune.” Rich, textured and deep, this tome deals with so many levels of society: religion, politics, relationships, morality, ethics, ect. In the dry and arid desert world, the most precious commodity is water. One or two mouthfuls would sell for a great amount. It was traded above and below the marketplace, as legal and illegal tender. It was precious, not a thing to be wasted or squandered. The indigenous people even wore “stillsuits”, a portable moisture reclamation system they had on continually.

Precious and life giving was that moisture. They squandered not a drop, not one scintilla of it. It could be the difference between life and death.

I am finding my journey into Orthodoxy life giving and sustaining, vital and necessary, un-looked for and the end of my search. And it is coming to me in bits and pieces. Chunks to be chewed up, and every vital nutrient extracted.

All for my good and for my journey towards Salvation.

I feel more prepared for this journey. Thanks to my fellow writers and podcasters, my pilgrimage will be the richer and I will be a little better equipped. Step by step, line upon line, precept upon precept.

Taking increasingly smaller bites and chewing longer!
Traveler

Blogging 2.0

As this is the start of a new year, a new start is in order for my blogging situation. No, this is not going to be a sappy posting about a New Year’s Resolution to fufill. Nevertheless, I have not posted to my blog since August of 2009, an almost 6-month dearth of postings. Dearth means an inadequate supply; scarcity; lack: as in “There is a dearth of good writing and consistent postings, numbskull.”

Believe it or not, I really, really love to write! In the way an artist catches his breath in the stroke of brush to canvas or when a musician massages the instrument and finds that perfect chord sequence, I gather exquisite joy from putting quill to parchment (or rather fingers to the keys of my Mac) and parsing word and phrase and nuance to create an expression of myself. Me in Blog form!

If this is so, you may ask yourself, why oh why the almost 6-month dearth (there is that word again) of a blog posting?

The answer is really very simple: Guilt.

Let me explain.

A long time back, I mean back a really long time early last year, I made a commitment to an excellent friend to help rewrite a study guide for a college church history class. Not a daunting project by any stretch of the imagination, just time consuming. And time has consumed much and I have only finished half of the project, despite numerous protestations of completion. My excellent friend is gracious and long-suffering and truly believes that I will finish the project. Which I will!

But 12-hour days and lots of hard work and less sleep conspire against me. I am sure many of you are familiar with the phrase, “The Spirit is willing but the Flesh is weak.” I embody that phrase. This is not whining, just the truth. “Just the facts, ma’am, Just the facts.”

This leads me to the guilt thingy. Since I cannot seem to keep to a consistent schedule of question writing, I put it off and keep putting it off and keep putting it off. This naturally leads to me not doing the thing I really love: writing. I, in good conscience, cannot blog about anything in my leisure time because this giant church history book sits there looking at me, begging to be read and questioned and dissected. Kinda like that semi-creepy Geico stack of money with giant eyeballs.

IT SEES ME!

Enter my good friend, Barbara from California. She, of recently starting her own blog, Facebooked to me,

“So I check and check and Jeff is not posting on his blog...no musing, no meandering mind gems...sigh........sigh.......

I responded with the guilt thingy and she said…

“OK! Sit down and LISTEN TO ME. (well -- read this, anyway) Writing begets writing...guilt dries up the creative stream....I KNOW you know this. Blog about the course you are rewriting! Surely there must be SOMETHING that made you ponder as you read it to rewrite it. Thinking and writing GIVE you energy. Guilt and procrastination drain you! I KNOW you know this!!!!!

I responded, “Yes I do know this. Thank you for the verbal swift kick in the pants. I will do my best to turn the tap on and try to post something by the weekend! Good start to your blogging career!

What friendship had wrought in me! As I looked back to my productive stretch of question writing, I saw that I had indeed done a number of postings at the same time. Maybe Barbara was on to something!

So this is the first posting of the year and will not be the last. I have had something ruminating around in my grey matter for some time and will work to put it into a series of postings. For the past couple of years I have been on an extraordinary journey of faith that I will relate in great detail and prosaic style.

I hope to see you (and read your comments) along the way!


Glad for Butt-Kicking Friends!

Traveler

Consuming Beauty

While traveling home from a job in the panhandle of Florida, I was listening to my ever-present and trusty companion, my iPod. As my thumb was a blur on the click wheel, I happened to stop on and listen to a song by Stevie Nick called Trouble in Shangrai-La. Now before you condemn me for my choice of music, at least have the good grace to read my post, leave a comment then condemn me for my taste in music. Deal?

One line of the song said this:
"You can consume all the beauty in the room, baby. I know you can. I've seen you do it."

No matter how many times I listen to this song, that phrase always strikes me and always sets me to thinking down the same well-traveled path.

Am I like that?

Do I come waltzing into a room and, like a black hole in space, suck all the life and beauty from it?
Does the chatter quiet down, gazes avert and subjects change?
Do smiles seem genuine or contrived?
Does my personality overwhelm others and change the chemistry and makeup in the room?
Do the lights of others dim upon my arrival? (And by that I don't mean that my light is brighter or better).

We all know people like that. An old room-mate, a high-school acquaintance, a relative or fellow church member. It seems like they have that unique ability to blanket a room with pessimism, uncharitable comments and despair.

Or am I like a supernova or exploding star, expanding the universe of that particular room, filling it with life, conversation, brightness, laughter, hopefulness and the light of Christ.

I am, after all, called a "light of the world." Are others blinded by the light in me or burned by the flame in my life and want to snuff it out? Or are they drawn to it like a "moth to the flame."

Are others consumed by the resident love of God in my heart or are they consumed by my pettiness, gossip and prejudice?

I don't know that I have the answers.

Sometimes I feel like I am a beacon of truth and righteousness, the image of the Most High stamped on my visage. Sometimes I believe that the flawed and tarnished fallen me is on display, like a side show freak. People are simultaneously drawn and repelled. What will it take for them to see past the exterior to the place of peace that resides in my heart?

We all love the consuming power of a masterpiece of art or an enveloping cocoon of a brilliant musical score. We are moved to recognize the hand of the Almighty, whether or not that is intent of the artist.

All I can do is pray that my nature will be changed so that I will not be one who is consuming beauty but rather a purveyor of the beauty that consumes. That beauty is the love of Christ.

"Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:16 NKJV

More Beast than Beauty.
Traveler