If You Sift Through And Break Yourself Down To It's Smallest Parts. What Would They Actually Look Like

It was already dark, but with clouds like that I'd say it made it even darker. It had stopped raining earlier in the day, so I figured that they were just passing through to whatever destination clouds go when they leave you. But at 12:53, a streak of lightening flashed across the sky, and in that moment it seemed the clouds had remembered that they were saturated, heavy with water, and it started pouring. The temperature was so low it became ice on the ground in an instant, and it brought the whole outside company to a halt. I smiled knowing you were at your house in bed, warmer than I was in that moment. "Frozen Lightening" I thought, what a sensation. Something similar, Id say to what it felt like to touch your hand.

Who knew feelings were this hard to understand, sort and satisfy.

So a while back I heard someone say that we appropriated our ability to speak from God. And whether or not this is true, humor me.

I guess let's start from the beginning. In Genesis, it talks about how there was a formlessness , and God spoke "Let there be..." and suddenly there was things that there were never before. Formlessness Defined by Words Divine. Light, Dark, Land, Sea, Skies, and every living thing from just God's "Let there ..." . And then later in the Gospel John it reads "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." That's how John starts his Gospel, that's how he opens his message that's how important it is. That God is Word. From the very beginning.

So now picture this God creates us, Humans. And we are created in God's Image. So we desperately try to communicate with God, and how do we do that? Feebly, I guess. Because what do we do? Speak. God had just created everything with words.

Now that's Blasphemy. Because would it not be? Blasphemy, is using Words Sacrilegiously. And Sacrilegious is the misuse of anything Sacred. Words are the Tools of Creation. So Words are Sacred. Our Words or Use of Any Speech is Blasphemy!

Now, most of that is me, way over thinking and stretching that to the extremes. But do you see what I mean? Words are powerful. With tact they can sway minds and hearts, and some words are carried across time. They build relationships, people, promises, companies, and nations and according to the bible all of Creation. Words are powerful things, and once dispensed they can't be returned or given back. Just as much they can build and create, they can destroy and take. And that was everything I was trying to convey.

Double puff, just to be safe.

On days like this I can see Autumn is nearing. I think about that Robert Frost poem, "So Dawn goes down to Day, Nothing Gold can Stay". The house will soon be warmer, the trees a little more brown, the leaves changing shades and colors, the sky always a bit more overcast, a sun more orange than yellow. Personally I think about Apple Slices, Cinnamon, Allspice and Plum Cake. And recently in this house, I have had the pleasure of hearing Owls. "Her early leaf's a flower; but only so an hour." He describes an entire season of our lives as Only so an Hour. A breath on a breeze compared to a lifetime's run. I think about Shelby Eatenton, and what she says to her Mother in Steel Magnolias. "I would rather have 30 minutes of "wonderful" than a lifetime of nothing special." Nothing Gold can stay, But I am so thankful I get to live in a world where I get to experience something as wonderful and special as an Autumn Day.

I wonder how many per mutations I am from my daydreams? Michael Faudet once wrote "I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place." I would modify this to "I am hopelessly in love with a memory I dont yet have". How many decisions, or indecisions, a moments wembling, a pause, a misplaced stutter, getting caught in traffic red when it should have been green. A vain attempt at times to scry into futures yet unseen. Has my own ambition tripped me up from my own success? Some other version of me is also on this couch right now, somewhere. and there is laughter his rooms. McAlpine would sing "Somewhere I lost all my senses, I wish I knew what the end is. Over and Over, I am watching it all Pass... I wish I knew what the end is" Dostoevsky would say, "I am not angry at him. I know his thoughts. His heart is better than his head." I am not angry at him; I knew what the end is

Death does not invalidate Life. Death does not seek to destroy you. It is not partial or bias to you.

Our Atoms are not our own. They did not belong to us before our birth. They do not belong to us after our death. They return to the Earth and become apart of everything.

Our Mannerisms are carried on by the people who loved us in life. And our spirits I believe live on forever in love.

Death is no more the enemy of Life. Than a period is the end of a sentence. And that's the nice thing about it. Is even after a sentence ends. Another one can keep going. We keep going.

If a single grain of rice can tip the scale then a single act of kindness can change the spirit.

I woke up with the strangest feeling of loss, grief and regret this afternoon and it's lingered still. I thought of this exchange once when visiting with my parents. I sat at the dinner table in the kitchen while my Mother was making dinner. I was complaining about some problem I had, "I really wish I had listened to my Father." My Mother asked "Why? What did he say?", and I admitted back to her "I don't know I wasn't listening." I thought about Daedalus his son Icarus in the Fields of Asphodel colliding into one another in their grief, both now just souls on the other's side of River Styx, their version of the hereafter. Daedalus holding his son's face in his hands, with streams of tears running from his eyes. "My son I am so sorry" he would say over and over again. "No Father, do not be sorry, it was me I should have listened". Daedalus in his grief and regret "I only wanted you to be free.", Icarus would try to reassure his father despite them both already being dead "I was, I was free, even if only for a moment, from the sun to the sea."

"Yet then again," This was a phrase commonly muttered by my now deceased Grandmother Pat. She used it often as either contradiction or conjecture. It was her verbal crutch that tethered her thoughts together. "Still even in addition to what has already been mentioned" I guess is much more a mouthful than the previous statement. But I keep on thinking about that Yet. How it could also mean "by now or then". Then "Afterward" and Again "Once More". I wonder if she knew all the while she was also saying a secret comfort to us, something that was analogous to Love and how it is omnipresent in our Lives. Love is "Here and There, Now and Then. Afterwards, Once Again."