we is.

If You Could Read My Mind...

2010-12-12T19:10:00.000-08:00

Well...

It has been way too long since I've posted anything...

For those of you that have seen or heard of me in these past two years - tell me...

What do you think I have been thinking? What should I have written about?

What do you think drives me?

Thanks
Brad

First Christmas Memory

2008-12-23T18:56:00.001-08:00

My son poses for the brainchild of my daughter. "Hi."

So, I was talking with the wife about first Christmas memories the other day. I conjured up many memories - but not sure of the chronology (I know, no surprise for those of you that know me. I can't remember the what day it is from the freckle on my nose). It seems that my gray hair and my gray matter are getting less able to track the days...

Anyway - I thought of my favorite Christmas churchy memory. We used to go to a Vespers Service with candles and afterwards - we blew out our own candles. Then, on our way out - the elders handed out these funny looking stocking to kids - filled with oranges, chocolates, candy canes and other goodies. It was here that I found the joy of combining tastes of chocolate AND navel oranges. Much later, I came to the knowledge that the Italians had much earlier made this discovery. How is it that my memories are almost always associated with: geography, culinary and culture - in that order???

What is your first Christmas memory? And even more important - what does it say about you now?

White Water

2008-07-15T20:35:00.001-07:00

Times are a changin'
Rock and Roll!
Danger Zone ahead!
Don't look back!

It has been a whirlwind (and whirlpool) of a summer.

So, here I go...

I started my admin program at George Fox University four weeks ago.
I am taking 7 credits this summer and will have some days from noon 'til 9 at night, in class. I travel 21 miles, one way to Newberg every day. The gas prices are not conducive to my 12 mpg Dodge Ram.

We celebrated my parents 50 year anniversary in Sunriver. We actually got them into a raft. Mom chose to sit and not row. JT and Nat had a great time and our guide was lots of fun. The Big Eddy (class 3-4) rapids were faster than I had ever done.

JT is in classic soccer and has had three tournaments (about 5 games per weekend). Fortunately we haven't had to travel out of state. His team is progressing nicely and continue to make great plays and saves. JT is a strong defender.

Nat is off to Middle School camp next week and is constantly talking about it. She was a first time Day Camp Counselor this summer and enjoyed the second graders. Her name was SUNNY. This made her folks quite proud. She grew up hearing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." every morning.

The Gwoods are gathering for another Reunion in Albany in two weeks.

I have checked out of my cubicle and have gone in to work about four times to check on outstanding projects.

I have done a few home projects and repairs.

I have delivered 89 boxes of empty beer bottles (no, I don't remember drinking it...) for my son's soccer team fundraisers.

I saw Will Smith in Hancock with Nat and want to see Indiana Jones - but will have to wait until all my classes are done on Aug 1.

Kim is constantly working and finds her greatest joy in her books and meeting with her 'culture club.'

The garage work bench is finally clean again and I found three new items for the soccer team group garage sale.

The professors at GFU were talking about me and they sent one of the "Doctors of Future Leadership" to challenge me to work towards my DED (that's doctor of education) degree as soon as I finish my masters... What a great honor - but I have so much to learn in the trenches first. My dear wife was delighted and says I should go for it - I never have thought of myself as DR material. What a bore.

The best is yet to come.

Grounded

2008-03-25T08:39:00.000-07:00

Being grounded...

Sounds like punishment for disobedience?
No. Being grounded is finding your footing after being in a stormy desert. Being grounded is like coming home.

Being grounded is what happens when you step off the fast track and reflect on the many miracles that are so profoundly simple that most people consider them annoyances...

Grounded.

Oh, Good - February!

2008-01-27T08:44:00.000-08:00

It's in the newspaper, on the TV news, in the office conversations, and in the frozen fog. Winter Blues. The stats on depression, anxiety and suicide are impressive. I even heard that a psychologist in Finland has done studies an determined that January 19 through February 21st are the most depressing (suicidal) days on the planet. Just this weekend I have heard several Christian responses to this trend. Sunshine for your soul!

Here's the cure for Winter Blues:
1. Know and say out loud - God's promises each day.
2. Practice your Spiritual Gifts (notice I did not say 'talent').
3. Give credit to The Godhead (The Trinity), in unity for your gifting.
4. Remember that your gifting shows (manifests, incarnates, highlights, exposes), the Glory of God. It also show community in unity.
5. Remember, that the gift giving usually requires sacrifice. That's why the greatest gift is love.
6. Hope - Spring is on its way.
7. Faith - vision to perceive the world with God's eyes.

Until then, here's some of my favorite summer shots of Cental Oregon in the Newberry Crater National Park, 2007.
Your Word is like streams of living water to my soul.

I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and keep you from harm.

Behold, the Lord our God is one. His ways are Holy and merciful and mighty is He.

Everlasting to everlasting - His love endures forever.

Blackbird- Fly

2008-01-10T21:25:00.001-08:00

click to enlarge photo

We went up to the Seattle Museum of Flight last weekend. I was glad to see that the kids enjoyed it as much as I did. The special feature - The Blackbird - also know as the A-12.
The plane was a virtual failure. All the Blackbirds have crashed or now sit in museums today. However, The Blackbird helped to spawn a new era of leaders in the sky - the Stealth...

I have felt a bit like the Blackbird lately. A high flying accident waiting to happen. All of life's expectations, designs, goals, targets and energies... waiting for a culmination of success - then...? Crash or sit in a museum...

Having been a teacher for the last 18 years - I feel like I'm ready for a new design, a new flight plan. So, I made application to a TOSA (Teacher on Special Assignment) position this year. It has been an exceptional opportunity and I have learned lots about 'school-improvement.'

One question that I can't escape - "are you in training to be a principal?" I must have had a dozen different answers to that question. Ultimately, the answer always came back to the simple fact that I can't trust myself to do the job. Or maybe, I just have such lame faith. I lack the trust that my God has taken me this far and will not leave me. Is God big enough? Yes. Am I good enough? No. So, how do you bring those statements together? Leap! Fly the nest! So, I decided (not confidently), to enter a Masters Program for my Administrative license. Am I cut for that kind of job?

Paul sang "blackbird sings in the middle of the night. Take these broken wings and fly... all your life... You were only waiting for this moment to arrive."click to enlarge photo.
This is an enhanced photo of part of one of the two engines for the Blackbird. I look at the gold, aluminum and titanium tubing and all the ins and outs. Complicated mess. My lack of confidence in my ability to pull this admin thing off - reminds me of this tangled mess. Too many ins and outs.

My prayer - "take this broken wing - help me fly."

Round and Round

2007-12-30T15:34:00.001-08:00

The holidays have hit with such a whirl of activity. I had so many plans to get on top of my diet and exercise - NOT!

Sleeping in and partying late - no wonder the whirlwind has spun me into a funk.

I keep hearing about friends that are starting - "Biggest Loser" contests. I am certain I could take the Biggest Gainer Award. They keep talking about the $100 buy in. Who's got the cash available for that?

My head still spins...

Grading Practices

2007-11-28T22:57:00.000-08:00

I would like to thank the anonymous contributor of this piece of homework.

The students were asked to draw a picture of their favorite person and say something nice about them.

Art Imitates Life...

I hope not.

Message to the Teacher: Homework should be supplemental, and support/extend the learning from classwork. Timely, accurate and specific feedback should be provided...

Message to Mommy: Perhaps, mommy should have checked the homework before little Debbie turned it in. Maybe mommy was busy? Does mommy report all earned income?

The Kingdom of the Heart

2007-11-13T16:28:00.001-08:00

Thanks to Dean at http://www.deanchristensen.blogspot.com/ for inspiring this post.

What do you get when you surrender to accepting a gift bigger and better than yourself?
Why would God provide His most precious Son for your broken heart?
When is the exact moment that His gift and your acceptance converges?
Where do you reside, in your self-reliance, when your will has already been surrendered?
Who is God that He should desire your heart?
How can you escape His love?

Leap.
Take the jump.
Trust The One who would choose to make your heart, His home.

Lurking in the Shaddows - click to Round Robin

2007-10-11T21:03:00.000-07:00

Caution - the story you are about to read is true. The details are in no way exaggerated. Only the evidence can be examined for veracity. The photo you see, is in no way altered or edited.

The summer days were long and lonely. Nearly, 800 miles from home (four ferry boat rides and in Canadian Waters), and away from my family while on a short-term mission, I started to hear the voice of God. With my digital camera in hand, standing on a remote, first-nation island near Point Jameson- I heard the still voice. It was strong but not deafening. It was loud but not audible. It was comforting but what I was asked to do - odd. "See that group of trees? Take a picture - I will show you my Son."

I was tired and was asking God to show me a sign that He was taking care of my family- back home. How I missed them. I missed the familiar summer morning gatherings around coffee and tea, tv and magazines, newspaper and shopping lists. I missed the joy of seeing the most beautiful 'wife in the morning.' She wakes up- looking like a satin dress- the kind that makes you want to touch it because light and dark hues are in constant motion and swirl your perspective until you touch it and find the true depth of reflection. Mesmerizing.

I snapped the shot just as the next boats were arriving to unload their passengers and gear. I set the camera back in the bag and marched to the sloped beach at low tide. The next two days were filled with the freshest sea food (shrimp: like candy, seaweed, salmon, crab). When we all got back to the Klemtu, I recharged the battery on the camera and started to connect the camera to the TV- to edit through my shots. It was at this point that I remembered the trees. Quickly, I scrolled to the photo and saw nothing. I went into zoom mode and fell back in disbelief.

Can you see the face? I don't know exactly what to think of this- but I still recall the sound of the voice every time I see His face. Remember.

Through - a poem

2007-08-29T20:53:00.001-07:00

Sunset at Cape Kiwanda, Pacific City and Haystack Rock - click to enlarge.

Through

She asked if I made it through.
Never sure how to respond
Never sure when the process is completed
Never sure how it all starts
No, not through yet, but doing better.

I never liked the word 'funk.'
Not because it sounds like a four letter bomb
Not because it makes me look week or unpredictable
Not funky is like not spoiled or ruined
I feel ruined - but only for a little while.

We carefully search through the inventory of our lives
Only to discover that the entire stock of our character
Has been invested for this mortal epoch.
And the sadness sneaks in.
I hope to get through this time.

Sunriver and Food

2007-08-13T20:22:00.000-07:00

SUNRIVER
The Family Reunion...

A view from the marina looking north across the Deschutes River.

As promised...

HEARTY OAT NUT PANCAKES
3 cups Bizquick
2 eggs
1 Tbs canola oil
2 cups milk - or to desired thickness
1 tsp Vanilla
1 tsp cinnamon or half tsp cardamom (optional)
1/2 cup chopped pecans (optional)
1/2 cup whole oats - old fashioned - dry
2 heaping Tbs ground golden flax seed (optional)
1 tsp fresh grated orange peel (optional)

Mix and set for 5 minutes.
Heat teflon skillet to 350 degrees F.
Add milk to reach desired thickness.
Pan fry and serve with butter and syrup.
The kids like these with chocolate chips or blue berries sprinkled in them as they fry on side one. I know - spoiled brats. But I figure - if it helps them get all that protein and fiber down their gullet, why not?

July in Pictures

2007-07-18T22:47:00.000-07:00

Who is this Guy?

2007-06-25T21:12:00.002-07:00

Ron Paul.

Hmmm. President Paul. Sounds good...

He talks as one talks with respect to the constitution.
He digs the liberty thing and says "no" to pushing liberty on others'.

What would you say to a man that wants to end the federally controlled Department of Education, and let states do their thing.

I say yes.

Oh my gosh. Wait. I'm not a politically active person.
Never mind. Vote (or not) for your choice.

I've done my research early and have chosen my horse to win this race.

Do your studying and find out the facts at: http://www.ronpaul2008.com/

Classroom Quotes 1,2,3.

2007-06-08T19:28:00.000-07:00

1. In the middle of an intense moment of mathematic instruction, she blurts. "Mr. G. Guess what? My sister is going on a field trip today for science."
Oh, really?
"Yah. She gets to go and see a real, live, kabober!"
Silence.
"Uh, what's a kabober?"
"Well, I don't really know. Do you know, Mr. G?"
I wasn't sure how to respond. But suddenly, the teacher tools that allow any instructor to decode even the sloppiest hand-writing took over. "Ohhh. You mean cadaver."
She looked a little embarrassed and still didn't know what that meant.
"Well, Connie, a cadaver is the preserved body of a human being, usually for the purpose of science, health and study.
"Oh."
Silence. Then, whispering to her classmate, Connie stated, "I hope we don't go on any field trips like that."
Real, live, field trips...

2. The next day, students were learning about Cell Theory. One of the postulates states that all cells have a nucleus. We then studied the types of nuclei. For these 6th graders, I decided to focus on the way each type of cell has different way of organizing the nucleus. Only briefly did I mention the vocabulary - 'pro' and 'eu' karyotes as the names for these organizational structures.

Nick raised his hand. I called on him. He asked if the prokaryotes were hold-outs from evolutionary adaptations. We talked about the scientific method and the need to observe and repeat experiments to say with certainty. He pushed for more. I responded by mentioning that "each species of prokaryote (like some cyanobacteria) are simple celled organisms and have a specific DNA that make them unique species. There, the eukaryotes could not have evolved (from pro), because they are altogether unique with their own DNA (not found) in any other organism."
Nick was on overload - even for a great thinker and TAG kid.
I asked if I could move on. He nodded.
Before I could get the next example of an organized nuclei drawn on the board, Nick sighed deeply and gushed.
"So, all that crap on every Discovery Channel is wrong. Evolution is only theory, not fact."
I was very proud at that very moment.

3. Sometimes, even the most carefully planned lessons can take a dive. Today, I used a tested and proven interactive lesson. It's called "Mayan Marketplace." The purpose of the activity (simulation), is to demonstrate the skills, products and trading practices of the Pre-Columbian cultures. As students start to trade their wares (cards of: obsidian, corn, beans, feathers, dried fish etc.), the canned lesson calls for various 'fates' to befall. For example: "the Yucatan has just been hit by a hurricane, every peasant must now surrender one maize card, that was destroyed in the storm."
The students were loving it and most of them had it figured out in a matter of ten minutes. So, I decided to take their prior learning and insert more 'fate.' I stopped all trading and had all peasant count their 'cards' and the peasants that earned less by trading than the others had to surrender all their cards and become subservient to another peasant. Some of the students look so defeated. "That's not fair. Why do I have to give them to someone who already has more?"
It was at this point, that I knew I had to drive the point home. So, after about 3 minutes and another good 'fate' card, I dropped the gauntlet. I asked all the student 'traders' to listen the the words of the holy halach uinic on behalf of the great Huitzilopitchli.
"Today, there needed to be a sacrifice. One of the two slaves will be sacrificed. Only the slave that had not fulfilled their duty as a Mayan slave would be given." So I brought both slaves up to the front. I asked their masters if they had done a good job. They both shrugged. So, I gathered all their cards and counted them. The master with the least amount would be the one to lose their slave. The slave was Anna. She is the 'most popular' cutie pie at school. She's a mall brat and has all the little 6th grade boys on a leash.
I told her to go to the front of the class. The girl students started chanting - "SAC RI FICE....." The boys surprised me. They stood silent and looked on in horror.
I grabbed the yard stick and raised it above my head. I must have really picked the right kid, because she stood there bravely as though she knew what I was up to...
I paused just before plunging the imaginary obsidian knife through her imaginary heart... "Wait, slave girl, can you read and write?"
"Why, but of course, holy and divine halach uinic. Certainly I can."
"Prove yourself." She directed her eyes to the white board and read out loud, the words to the Pledge of Allegiance.
"You are literate. You have been saved." Cheers from the class.

The class discussion was alive and humid with the indignation of the bourgeoisie.
Lesson saved. Fate.
I love my job.

My Addictions

2007-05-18T06:21:00.001-07:00

I have a problem. I wake up thinking about coffee and scoring hit off a scone or a fritter. Sometimes I even leave the house early to grab an americano at Starbucks and justify it: "I can sip on this a while and read my morning devotional..."
My addictions caught me by surprise this morning - in the shower. With warm water jetting my face, I was in a pose (posture, if you will) of looking up. I was thinking (without awareness) of how to get my fix. Then, it dawned on me. How absolutely flawed I am; starting the day with a sugar/caffeine fix. Have you ever been embarrassed while you are alone? No, not 'cause you are butt naked... Embarrassed because at the core of you is a hunger for a thing and not for the real meal deal.

What I need is the kind of bread that never fades and a drink that never runs dry. Lord, satisfy me.

I hung my head in shame and asked my redeemer for forgiveness. I asked him to be my all, my portion and my strong hope. Then HE put a song in me -

There's a table in the Wilderness
Where the blind can see
And the poor possess
Where the weak are strong
And the first one's last
There's a table in the Wilderness

There's a table in the Wilderness
Where the blessed sing
of his tenderness
Ever thankful for
Being honored guests
At the table in the Wilderness

There's a table in the Wilderness
All is welcome
Living Water
Come find Life
Come find Peace
Come find Rest
Where the lame can walk
and the weary rest
At the table in the Wilderness

When you search so hard for the promised land
But the earth won't yield to your blistered hands
And you hang your head
And you wipe your brow
And you shout it out, shout it out
There's a table in the Wilderness
(Russ Taff)

May I always be found at this table.

How do we get there from here?

2007-05-01T22:45:00.000-07:00

An empty chair awaits you... Hungry?

Is this white enough?

So, have you ever seen something grow from the grass root level? Have you seen a ground swell? No, I'm not talking about grass or aquifers... I'm asking about a positive movement in culture. Have you experienced a revolution of such unobtainable proportions that it can't be measured by banker, scientist or a sociologist.

I'm guessing that this kind of paradigm-shift is found only once in a century. Maybe it skips a generation.

A grand awakening of biblical proportions, one that gets right to the heart of each of us - that's what I'm praying for: A renaissance of recreation in the righteous. A celebration of the death of tradition and stigma.

What's on my heart the last few days is a desire to see - oh wait- I feel an MLK speech coming on... I have a dream...

I woke up this morning and as my friend, Randy, says "Holy Cow, I'm white and all my friends are white."

So, I ask you: How do we do this? How do we get the melting pot to bring us together - heat? How do we get the fruit salad with variety and diversity - upset?

Bring on the heat. Bring on the upset. I'm ready to live the dream.

Tell me how...

Straining to See

2007-04-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days - a Monday - when I just could not get the ball rolling. I had little energy for the day and even less motivation. I tried to read my daily devotion to start off with some inspiration, but ended up reading about how the disciples fled in fear and abandonment, after the crucifixion of their leader and friend.

I feel like I've been doing the same. My leader and friend seems so distant and my challenges seem so blocked-up and pressed into a jumble of confusion and mire. I try to remain single minded and focussed. I try to keep a positive attitude. Today at lunch I sat away from my coworkers to avoid disappointing them with my melancholy. It felt good, safe and calm to pull away- until they all moved over to my table and started talking about "how was your Easter weekend?"

Bah.

This funk I'm in is deep. It reflects my feelings of disappointment in so many areas of my life. Professionally, I haven't been able to leave work for the last 2 years saying "I've done all I could today." In my ministry, the guys I serve with must think I'm a flake. In my home I have so much desire to be "there" for my family- but I get home and barely have enough energy to listen to the stories about their day. In my neighborhood, in my church, in my job, at play... I can't seem to see any hope.

I'm going to bed early tonight.

Maybe in the morning I'll be able to see more clearly- beyond the haze of myself and into the glory of the sun.

Nature - Round Robin Photo Challenge

2007-03-22T18:21:00.000-07:00

EMERALD FOREST - Round Robin Photo Challenge.

I should have had the tripod.

As green as the dense, early spring, Oregon forest was in March- the crystalline stream seemed a perfect pairing.

I wished I had remembered my tripod. After my hike down the ravine, I huffed and couldn't catch my breath in the dense forest air. The camera shook and my hands wouldn't relax.

Have you ever had a day like that? Have you ever felt like your humanity was fragile and you knew your finite time on earth was like a breath in the cold air at night. Have you ever felt alone and wanted to know that your life had some meaning other than just the 9-5 fight through to the weekend?

Maybe you need a tripod. Or maybe you are like me. You have a tripod, you just forget to pack it around with you...

Shooting My Hand

2007-03-13T19:56:00.002-07:00

The theme for the Round Robin Photo challenge was supposed to be:
"Welcome to our next challenge. For this outing, Brad, author of the blog, "We-Is," really came up with a unique and innovative theme for us, here is how he explains his idea for us...

"Take a photo of your hand. Post it untouched, without any digital enhancements. Then, tell us about your settings (and shooting conditions) and what you would do to enhance... post capture. For those of you that like to run enhancements - post that too, as a before and after."

The problem was... I shot my hand...

I'm not a gun person. Never seemed to have the need to hunt anything on four legs or two. But this weekend, at a nice father son retreat, we had the opportunity to go to the rifle range and practice target shooting. My son thought it was fun last year, so, why not.

After 20 minutes of shooting several clips, a small jam. I thought I would help. The gun went off and the GSR (that's gun shot residue) along with bits of molten copper, brass and lead flew out the seared into my palm. Ouch!!!

I shot my hand.

Be careful what you ask for...

Settings:
Kodak P880
jpeg at 8.0 mp
in closeup mode
shutter: 1/5 sec.
f 2.8
focal length 24 mm
ISO 100
tungsten light
2669 Kb
modified with fisheye

BABY RUTH

2007-02-23T17:08:00.000-08:00

I became a great uncle about two weeks ago. The whole gang showed up at the hospital just in time to catch her napping. What an angel.

With her eyes closed, she smiled when we arrived and got all cranky when it got quiet. Isn't that funny how we like our quiet time to be noisy and our productive times to be quiet. The comfort of the noise must help our psyche to adjust to our own thought noise. Sweet dreams, Baby Ruth.

It makes me think about how important it is to manage our quiet times and take charge of our waking moments. As a teacher, I find that I am so overloaded with input and noise that I have to be intentional in seeking quiet and then force myself to hear my own thoughts. Eventually, I am able to create a dialogue in prayer. Listening to the voice of GOD is so hard when I use my ears. I think GOD speaks the 'heart language.'

Have you heard the voice of GOD?

Round Robin - RED, almost...

2007-02-21T22:10:00.000-08:00

Early on a cold February morning, I was drawn to the camera and the idea of catching an electric sunrise. Just a few miles away from home, across from the Dawson Creek Business Park, I found my 'electric.' The sunrise was faster than I could act... Not much red in the photo- however, I must say, the colors were as transitory as the electricity on the hot wires.

Enjoy.

2007-02-13T20:44:00.000-08:00

Kitchen diaries

Beatbox Recipe

Round Robin - MACRO

2007-01-25T22:20:00.000-08:00

The latest Round Robin Photo Challenge is titled Macro. The challenge: to create a block of four pictures. The themes are texture (T), color (C), reflection (R), and newness (N). The pictures are to be taken using the macro setting on the camera. They are to be arranged in the grid as such:

T C
R N

Each of the pictures is to be 200 pixels by 200 pixels. Here’s what I came up with:

"YOU CAN BE THAT SERVANT"

2007-01-15T09:36:00.000-08:00

Please visit the King Center web page. As this link opens, have your speakers turned up and ready. The speech opens with the page opening.

Share the speech. Memorize the speech. Honor the legacy by speaking of Martin Luther as a servant of hope.

If you have heard the Dream Speech, great. However, in the speech (sometimes called Servant Heart), you will be able to hear what made The Reverend/Doctor Martin Luther King Jr., who lived and then died, a servant.

"No servant is greater than His Master."

Serve somebody.

Learning to Play

2007-01-11T19:17:00.000-08:00

Handy Dandy

Let's play a game called tag.

Thanks to my blogger friend Pat, I found this video and was forced to learn how to post a video to my blog.

I can't stop laughing...

Round Robin Photo Challenge - MAGIC

2007-01-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

The magic is in the riddle.

Is the photographer:
inside taking a picture of the chair?
OR
Outside taking a picture of something else?

What is your vote?

Thanks to my photographic geniuses at Round Robin:
Karen
Outpost Mâvarin
http://outmavarin.blogspot.com/

Carly
Ellipsis... Suddenly Carly
http://ellipsissuddenlycarly.blogspot.com

Janet
Fond of Photography
http://fondofphotography.blogspot.com

Julie
Julie's Web Journal
http://www.barrettmanor.com/julie/journal.aspx

Suzanne
New Suzanne R's Life
http://newsuzannerslife.blogspot.com

Steven
(sometimes)photoblog
http://sepintx.blogspot.com/

One in a Million

2007-01-06T14:34:00.000-08:00

Are you unique?

Do you fancy yourself a "Utopian/Bohemian/Humanitatian/Vegetarian/Unitarian/Creation?
What about your name? Are you a "Doe?" or an "Doerfendeichebacher?"
It appears that I am not alone. Others share my nomenclature.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are:
499
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

Thanks to Chris at http://reviewsbyswibirun.blogspot.com/ for sharing.

Morning Light - Click to Pittock Mansion

2006-12-28T19:53:00.000-08:00

A new friend and I took the morning and went out for a photo-jaunt. We started with good morning light and soon ended up in the fog. We shared some digi-talk and improved our skills. I am grateful for my new friend and the delete button.

West Union Road - Hillsboro Oregon at 7:40 AM

Pittock Mansion - Portland Oregon at 8:30 am

Her name is Shaddow. She said she was a special child of God and asked if I could spare a dollar. When I shook her hand, her fingers were icy cold. I could tell she was special. Her heart was warm and her smile filled with hope. Stay in the light Shaddow.

A cold look down and a foggy look up.

Red Robin Photo Challenge - Past VS. Present

2006-12-27T14:50:00.000-08:00

Round Robin Photo Challenge: Past VS. Present

Thanks to my friends at Round Robin (Karen and the gang...) for the most fun way to share photos. I messed up the last challenge by not following the directions (pretty embarrassing, seeing that I'm a teacher and should be able to follow some basic instructions). My problem might not be "reading" but rather my limited ability at the blogger thing.

My Before and After? The front yard. I decided to remove a diseased pine tree. It dropped its last needle on my lawn! The best thing though, the neighbors showed up and helped my cut it down and haul it away. I love my neighbors. True Community.

Well, here's the before.

And the during...

Here's the after.

Whew.

See below for my own little photo challenge.

Photo Challenge: PANTRY

2006-12-22T23:54:00.000-08:00

Stop. Go grab your camera. Quick. Using the most advanced features on your digital camera, capture a picture of your pantry or kitchen cabinet. Must be posted by January 8, 2007.

Rules:
1. Don't go in the pantry and start cleaning up first...
2. Post your pantry photo to your blog and then leave me a comment as to where I can find your post on your blog (URL).
3. On your post describe all the technical aspects of your photo. If you are not sure how to do this, sometimes you can right click on your photo and open up the properties and it will list the background specifics. Please include:
a. original file type, size and pixels
b. shutter speed
c. aperture setting
d. advanced camera settings
e. lighting
f. focal length
g. distance
h. ISO/ASA
I. Most importantly here - Camera brand and make (and which accesory you can't live without).
4. Also, tell a little bit about your pantry and the contents thereof.

I'll provide incentives (here's the categories):
The Messiest Pantry
Mega Sexy Pantry
Over the top Pantry
Ethnic Pantry
Earth friendly Pantry
Bulky Bulk Hulk Pantry
Spooky Pantry
....and more.

Click to enlage.

This is the pantry that started out as an entryway in our home. But during our remodel, we decided to change where our front door was located. This left a little nook by the kitchen. When my mind's eye saw this for the first time it said "pantry."

a. original file type: RAW. 3264 X 2448 pixels at 13223 KB
b. shutter speed: 1/2 second
c. aperture setting: f 2.8 (the lowest I can get - only in aperture mode thought)
d. advanced camera settings: APERTURE (it's the A in PASM)
e. lighting (some, incandescent 60 watt bulb)
f. focal length: wide at 24 mm
g. distance: about 8 feet
h. ISO/ASA: ISO 100 - in auto ISO
I. KODAK P880 (8.0 MP. Favorite accessory is now a UV haze filter.

After the pantry was shelved, I remember my very efficient and thoughtful wife filling it up in just two days with all the things you see here. My favorite shelf contains the breakfast cereal and my almond granola. I love the concept of "pantry." It makes me pause and reflect on the greatness of God. It was said by the ancient Hebrews that His storehouses are filled with love and peace.

Paradigm: Goodness

2006-12-08T19:39:00.000-08:00

Brilliant light makes joy
the glitter of Christmas-time...
You worship Jesus

Taken is small steps
the rodent has carved his home
but not in my house.

City is alive
crowded crowns of technology
lonliness and death

Wonder the moment
sun dips low and minutes
are seconds. Breathe out.

Sunday scribbling: I, Hero

2006-11-21T18:15:00.000-08:00

At first, the topic of hero was a drag. I read student papers every day. Promptings, such as this are predictable and hedonistic.

I read a few SS entries on Sunday night and was benignly inspired to write a treatise on how Jesus is not (and should not be called), "hero." He is 100% man and 100% Deity. Heroes are human. Heroes live in limited time/space and deal with nothing close to omnipotence.
Heroes take old cardboard boxes and help students turn them into mythical beasts.

I, am Hero. I live in a limited time and space and operate in limited capacity. As teacher, in the public school, I am reminded every day of my limited ability and yet, have the juxtaposed reality of 30 bright faces staring in my direction, expectantly. How strange, to know that you are the object of hope, peace and self-concept. I am Hero. Yes, I capitalize my alias. For that is the calling I am blessed with everyday.

Mom cried when I told her that her daughter was improving her scores in math. You see, K hated math. Actually, to be more open - she said she hated men. She told me that after she boldly announced to the entire class, "I am a vegetarian and my mom who has brain cancer and I hate men." I apologized for all men and told her that I know I was her first man teacher. After that, I began to tell everyone about her intellect, her insight, her ability to understand and bring joy to others'. She flourished and brought me an apple and homemade cookies. I gloated over her baking ability and her way of being creative with the pecans. K told me that her mom found out she was in "remention." and wanted to know what that was. I smiled and the next day we had a donut party for her and talked about remission. I, Hero, poured my life into her and gave her hope. She said that she still hates men - but only ones that hit her - and then leaves. I hate those kind of guys too. Mom cried when she told me, choking back the tears, "thank you Mr. G., K hasn't liked school for the past 4 years. I looked up, and in typical hero-fashion, pointed my finger to the rafters and said, "don't thank me, thank Him." She winked and from behind her head scarf I saw a tuft of hair fall. I commented that I didn't know she had blonde hair, and left.

This Hero also has a secret tool belt (that I use to assist all the other teachers that leave their tools back home).
This Hero makes the coffee every morning for all staff.
This Hero gets the calls to fix the computers.
This Hero uses his super powers of faith, to trust every free and reduced lunch student or migrant student to bring his $49 text book back to class.
This Hero calls home to brag about more of his students than to complain about their "lack of effort to meet their true potential."
This Hero dies a bit everyday when he realizes that he could have done more.

The Bridge: Limiting or De-Limiting Factor?

2006-11-13T22:33:00.000-08:00

As the bridge raises to allow for river passing, the traffic is stopped. Some foot passengers may even be thwarted and even in danger of overhead, impaired clearance.

So, do you ever feel that the hand of God has left you and that all the hope you have placed in the path you are on is gone. The steps you have taken to assure your success are trivial in light of new obstacles. You know that the bridge is good but there's no way to cross. Wait. Crap!

It is at this point, this very crux that I find myself too often. It's most embarrassing to start the whining and then to realize, that my little perspective is so limited. By my minor inconveniences, many other more important circumstances (often outside my perspective) are allowed to float about their own way.

For example: I recently spent two weeks of concentrated whining when a key employee in my local union was removed and quickly replaced. Man was I mad. All my plans, support systems and balances were interrupted. I thought I should quit, write a letter, or go over somebody's' head. My problem was, in my limited perspective. This may be the best way for me to grow and try new things.

I have always said, "don't get mad, get even." This time I'm just plain sad. I can't cross the bridge the same way that I used to. I feel alone and don't trust my union or their leaders. How can I work for people I don't trust?

Well, maybe it's me. How do I learn to trust myself? And when the bridge finally does lower back into position, how can I take it out of park and move forward when I don't know where I'm going any more?

Will I ever trust them? Me?

Watch you head...

The Passenger: What I Did Not See.

2006-11-11T20:35:00.000-08:00

Downtown, PDX, Saturday morning.

I did not see hope.

I did not see fear, but was it because there was nothing to fear or no respect for life?

I did not see a city.

I did not see the "haves"

So, I asked a guy (not standing in line for free food) if I could take a picture of him. He said nothing. I said I wanted to capture the steam coming up from his coffee. He liked that idea.
"Sure, I got it just a minute ago." I snapped the picture and commented on how cold it was. I asked him if he was warm enough.
"No problem. I'm an old pro at this game." He pointed at the soup line. "After the line goes down I'll grab some food for my buddies that can't walk up here."
"What do you mean" I asked?
"Oh. I got some Vets under the bridge and they can't make it."

I didn't see any holes in his hands, but he was the closest thing I saw to Jesus that morning.

Healthy New Me - CAKES

2006-11-11T20:01:00.000-08:00

I've managed to pick up an impolite little illness - no doubt left behind by my sixth graders. Hacking and coughing my way through the kitchen this morning I threw together (with my son, the nine year old monkey-chef) my healthy pancake speciality. Just two bites and I knew I was on the road to recovery. I even cooked this same recipe in Canada, while camping on remote, Marvin Island, with 12 hungry high schoolers.

Here's the recipe.

HEARTY OAT NUT PANCAKES

3 cups Bizquick
2 eggs
1 Tbs canola oil
2 cups milk - or to desired thickness
1 tsp Vanilla
1 tsp cinnamon (optional)
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup whole oats - old fashioned - dry
2 Tbs ground flax seed (optional)
1 Tbs fresh grated orange peel (optional)

Mix and set for 5 minutes.
Add milk to reach desired thickness.
Pan fry and serve with butter and syrup.
The kids like these with chocolate chips in them. I know - spoiled brats. But I figure - if it helps them get all that protein and fiber down their gullet, why not?

Did I say fiber? Sorry.

Enjoy.

Round Robin Photo Challenge

2006-11-01T21:01:00.000-08:00

The Creative Side of Who?

The Creator has made those that create in His image...

This is my reflective son. Fishing without success; melancholy. And impressed mostly by his dad when photographed; proudly.

View all other Round Robin creations here:
http://roundrobinphoto.blogspot.com/

CONFESSIONS OF A MEMBER OF A CHURCH WHO LISTENS TO A PREACHER

2006-10-25T21:14:00.000-07:00

This weekend I sat through a brilliant sermon. I know that I may have appeared to close my eyes. And I must honestly confess that I was tired, but I heard every word. I worked harder to hear and listen and understand this sermon than I ever have. I was listening for three people. It's hard work to listen (just ask my wife). Seriously, I think I broke a sweat on this one.

To those who have ears let him hear. Yes, I'm well aware that I have two ears and one mouth and ,therefore, should do more listening than talking. But at this time I think I have something to say. The passage is John 17:6-19 (the scene: upper room, the event: Jesus prays, Sermon theme: Going In To the World).

The first person I was listening for was myself.
Go into the world. Ambassador/Priest. Go and take Jesus with you and make a change.
I really get it. I am really doing it. I'm commited to my small group and going into my Judea/Samaria and making a difference in people's lives by meeting their physical needs first. I get it.

The second person I was listening for was the me that needs to be open to change.
Is there more I should be doing? At what point and to what lengths do I deny myself and my responsibility as a husband and father to serve Christ and "my mission." What is my mission? Am I actually doing anything in my ministry that creates a cultural change? You gotta know- I feel good about this. I'm doing good. The CULTURE of change I'm moving for is getting godly men to use their God given strength and tools to show love to others (needy or not). After all, isn't that the message of Jesus simplified? Love God, love your neighbor. This is not an esoteric, didactic, or otherwise, mental leap. Just do it. Shut up and do it.

The third person I was listening for was the Pastor.
His final punch...
"TO CREATE CULTURE MEANS:
-a culture of grace—in a culture of disgrace
-a culture of respect—in a culture of coarseness
-a culture of justice—in a culture of oppression
-a culture of trust—in a culture of cynicism."

It is at this very point that I finally realized why I struggle with "Church," so much. Why is it that I don't put great value in the words of preachers. Look at the bulleted list. Do you see the words: serve, sacrafice, give, share? Is it implied? Maybe. What about the Word of God. Is it meant to be preached or lived?

As for me and my house we will serve the Lord.

On the Home Front

2006-10-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

Why haven't I blogged recently? Honestly?
Well, I've been a bit busy lately.

I've been readjusting to life back in the states after my 2 week trip to Klemtu, Canada.
I've been at two soccer games a Saturday - Go Mud puppies and Grey Wolves!

I've been gardening: replanting 4 azaleas, 5 hostas, and a bed of grass. AND removing a 50 foot sugar pine - I wish it had a tap-root - but no, it had 45 saprophytic anchor roots. I added 3 dump trips, 2 loads of decorative rock and one load of bark dust and several trips to Home Depot.
I've been starting a school year by opening up my first portable classroom.
I've been starting to apply my grant funding to my school technology and publishing plan.
I've been getting 22 new staff people (some still technology resistant) in a building of 800 students initiated on the computer network.
I've been in church commitee meetings.
I've been to the church pic a nic and (arguable) won the pie eating contest - this was one of my llife goals...
I've been sick with a fever of 101 for 3 days only to find I had an unexplained foot infection. Been to Doctor, Emergency, PT and more.
I've been busy "Jesus Punking" my fellow man.
I've been so lonely that all I could do is cry out to God for His comfort.
I've been angry.
I've been hurt.
I've been - Damn. I'm really going to have to stop blogging and start taking care of myself...

The truth of the matter... My loving wife has been hogging computer and I just haven't had that much to say latley.

Transportation - Round Robin Challenge

2006-08-27T22:54:00.000-07:00

Coming back from my first short term mission- I was told to prepare for culture shock. Klemtu was a great time and I absolutely loved the people.

I have been asked what it was like.... I may be in error in stating this, however, I really felt that getting to Klemtu (a 13 hour ferry ride), was like traveling through the most remote and wild forests and waterways (now here's the catch) only to end up in the middle of a ghetto.

Then, in this coastal backwater, a large, privately owned vessel appeared. Look closely. Do you see a large boat and a small boat? The little boat is 31 feet long with twin diesel engines and can cruise at 58 knots. But look even closer. Do you see more floaties(under tarps)? Do you see the two outboards and two jet skis and two crane lifts to drop the "toys" in the water?

After 6 days of talking with the wonderful people of Klemtu, and then being interrupted by the conversations about this visiting yacht - disgust. Our talks needed to be about hope and making good choices, not about false gods and empty idols filled with rust and decay. I was embarrassed by the boat and the "American" wealth and glammour it represented. Could it be that I was already in culture shock?

Americana - Round Robin Challenge

2006-07-06T22:43:00.001-07:00

Bike Parade
Block Party USA

Several years in a row, our neighborhood blocks off the street and does the 4th of July proud. Parades, music, games, prizes, BBQ, firewords, and lots of smiles.

Thanks to Bob (on the bike) for holding us to our traditions.

Here's to the Red, White and Blue.

Break Time

2006-06-30T09:04:00.002-07:00

Up on the mountain, stuck on the job- painting houses.

No. This week has been a blast. I have spent the last 30 hours of work-a-day-light time painting a house on the hill for a friend. No calls. No interuptions. Just me and my thoughts. Then, invading my thoughts - the voice of God. Calling me back from the noise of the classroom and the bustle of the valley floor. Thoughts turned to prayer. Prayer turned to blessings. Next thing I knew it was 6PM and I had completed my job. Exhausted and blessed. I wasn't working alone. Covered in paint and sweat and by the blood.

I stepped back to admire my work - but it wasn't enough. I stepped back away from the house and admired the work of His hand - the earth below - and rested.

Good job God.

The Inter Intra Test

2006-06-16T22:28:00.000-07:00

What do you see? A or B?

A. There is an interaction between two unlike things that are apart from each other.
B. There is an interaction between two like things that are part of each other.

Too subltle for you?

Sunshine and Tree. A or B?

Enough about photosynthesis...

What about you?
A. Is there an interaction between you and God - distinctly unique?
B. Is there an interaction with your God in you and you in Him, as part of each other?

Too subltle for you?

What is your interaction like? Do you need Him? Do you think He needs you?

God is not a man that He should require an intercourse with man. However, we are "like" Him, in that He delights in the intercourse with man.

Not comfortable with the word "intercourse?" What about "intimate relationship?"

Oh, maybe you are not comfortable with "Him," the masculine pronoun. Then forget what you know about men and think about the SUN. More powerful than the tree, right? We could even go so far as to say "the SUN nurtures the tree." Sounds a bit less masculine maybe even femine? No, I'm not suggesting that God is a woman - but I'm just as sure that He is not a man. Try, "spirit." That's why we are only "like" Him.

Ok, so try this little experiment.

EXPERIMENT -
Hypothesis - If God is good/strong/merciful/gentle/kind/ (you get the point...) then - ask (pray) for His goodness to shine into you and nurture you - and He will delight in it.

You don't like to pray? Try this. Ask God to be like the SUN to you.

Tell me what you discover. This is the real test. How do you know that you passed? One word, "Fruit."

Sun Scrib'n

2006-06-05T16:31:00.000-07:00

Writing Prompt - First Memory

LION HUNTING
North Dakota, Bismark.
Early spring.
Tall snow, waiting.
Then, short green grasses.
Lots of little puddles in between.

Croaking, chirping, little green jumpers.
Not really lions, but that's what we said.
Brothers on tricyles.
Maybe two years old.

The lions could not survive the three wheeled chariots.
Little green spots turn red.
Cool.

Big brother picked some up and pocketed a few.
Not me.
Too yucky.
Wiggly, screaming, crying.

Later, big brother made mom scream, too.
Laundry room all stinky with lion guts.
Cool.

Tomorrow, more lions.
Sleep now.
Dream of lions.

Cedar Waxwings Social Group

2006-05-29T22:01:00.000-07:00

We've been visited by a group of 20-30 of these birds. Lovely colors. They sing only when they fly away with a high pitched whistle that sounds like "schpee-oo."

I've used online and paper versions to find more about these guys.

They really like to lite on the blooms of the "Red Hot Fire Pokers" or "Gods' Paint Brush." I thought they were just doing the hummingbird thing- just drinking the sweet nectar. But now, I would say that they are eating the blooms or fruit.

They rest in the big oak tree in the back yard and then visit the front yard 3 times before lunch.

I wonder if they will stick around?

SunScrib

2006-05-27T22:33:00.000-07:00

Me- First Love

What is that feeling? There is a welling up and a buzzing with excited flashes.
The sensation is: at once child-like, mindless, and somehow, strangly cerebral.

A glance was shared in sixth grade.
A hand was held in seventh grade.
A cheeck was kissed in eighth grade.
A mouth was kissed in ninth.

Each time, the brain went for a whoop!
Each time, a feeling that I knew I could not define.

The chemistry of LOVE; both ionic and electric.
The heat, the friction, the glow. The cool down.

There was a time when the sensation was an identity of its own.
I must have fallen for me. Sick huh? In love with love?

How depraved and so very sad.

We love ourselves. Self-centric.
Invest in, care for, protect, kling to, clothe, puff and primp just for the preservation of self.

What a beautiful wreck.

Sunday Scribbling

2006-05-20T07:44:00.002-07:00

Three Wishes
Light. Unity. Strength.

I pray for light, that I may not hide in the darkness.

I pray for unity that His gloriuos light might shine on us all.

I pray for strength because the night is long and the days grow cold.

Sunday Scrib

2006-05-14T09:56:00.000-07:00

What Makes Mom Cry?

Yes, I am a momma's-boy. Yes, I know it's Mother's Day.

Few events in my life have escaped their impact without tears. That is to say, the really big stuff- are teary. Yes, I cry. I learned this from my mom.

I can first remember moms' tears as she was listening (while ironning) to her brand new concert albums - collections of symphonic masterpieces. It must have been Mozart. The tears were not joy or sadness. The tears were just a welling up of emotive energy. I cry when I hear a song at just the right time, too.

Later, I recall a certain event on the black and white TV (13 inch screen). Everyone was dressed in black and a little boy was holding an folded up American flag. "Mom, why does that little boy get a flag?" No answer, just tears (from behind the ironning board).

Also, Robert and Martin. Funerals and tears. I learned to cry.

Now, I'm married to a crier. She cries when she is happy and when sad. She watches movies and cries. She wants to watch movies just so she can cry. She avoids other movies because "I know it will make me cry." Mystery.

What I do know, I need her tears. My stupid emotional disconnectness - needs to see her tears. As she cries, I see the path of her heart and hear the voice of the almighty.

There is peace when she cries. It is like a holy momment, sacred and beautiful. I wish she would let me closer to her tears. She likes to hide in the darkness of the theater or behind tissues when she cries.

Maybe a book about her tears is too personal. A more clinical approach (with excerpts from some chick named Judith), now that may work. What about a DIY approach - yes, Do It Yourself -the home crying manual for idiots - a book for men to get in touch with the tears of the women they love. Or , maybe a book that seeks the history of tears in literature.

It will never happen - or maybe it's already written... Either way, I'll never write it. I'll just keep it all to myself. Mums the word.

Sunday Scriblings - One Shoe

2006-05-07T23:03:00.000-07:00

One Shoe

He never thought to check for the size. The color and shape was the same. The pair he grabbed felt right. Leaving the mosque of Salaam Al Turk in a hurry, as he did every Wednesday, he picked up the worn, brown loafers. Slipping them on quickly and tripping out the door into intense sunlight, he strode on home, arriving just after sunset.

It wasn’t until after dinner that night and a losing round of backgammon that the knock on the door came. It was a knock, like any other. Polite taps. He opened the door and his brothers from the mosque stood, appearing nervous and looking down. The imam moved forward and forced his way inside, frowning at the dusty marble squares. There, in the vestibule, five pairs of shoes, neatly organized (by size), toes pointing to the wall, waited. The imam picked up his shoes and studied them carefully. One of the shoes, the left one, was obviously longer than the other. He spoke plainly. “You have my shoe, sir. I can tell because the pair I have on right now is a mismatched pair.”

Jarfur was humiliated. How could he have been so stupid to mismatch – and with the imam? He bowed severely and apologized deeply. “My teacher, you have been wronged. I do not deserve to wear your shoes. This was an unfortunate mistake,” Jarfur pleaded. The imam raised the one larger shoe above his head and with one sharp blow set Jarfur to the floor. The heel had cut his brow and the floor had collided with his chin in a loud whomp. The gathered men picked him up and threw him into the alley. No one in the houses nearby could hear a thing, as each home was set back from the alley by a deep entryway- well away from the rest of the living space. Jarfur’s family was not aware of the events and continued their nightly routines. The holy men from the mosque departed quickly and Jarfur awoke. The pain on his chin was wincing but fortunately the slice on his brow was already coagulating. He stood quickly and thanked Allah for his mercy.

Walking back to the open front door, he paused, looked down the alley both ways. No one saw him. Quietly closing the door he also looked down. There, at his feet, only one brown shoe.

SELF PORTRAIT TUESDAY

2006-05-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

Kodak P880
RAW file, 8.0 MP
After capture zoom and crop.
Digital Enhancement with Kodak Easy Share "Coloringbook" setting and MSPaint.
Background is my house - T-111 siding.

I erased my three other chins, and larger bags under eyes. I added highlight features and some lines to replace lost lips.

I think I like my nostrils - good thing I keep my nose hair trimmed.

Would I ever do this again? Hmmm... Well, maybe if I lost a bunch of weight and wanted to touch up before and after pictures - vanity- all is vanity...

Got a haircut the next day...

Life is so much better in color.

Sunday Scibblings

2006-04-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

Letting the Days Go By

Surrounding me: hi-tech, suburbs, farms, forest corridors, families of many nations and blends, snow capped mountains and lush valleys, just and hour away from the ocean.

Who could ask for more? So, how did I get here? (Yes, I know this is a David Byrne lyric of the Talking Heads – “Letting the Days Go By.”) So, before any more water goes underground…

Here’s the facts…

I am the son (6 generations later) of an 18^th century French immigrant. I can’t go back much further than 1710 AD- because the written records from the church of Boisvert in Alsatian France, don’t go back further than that.

In 1759, Colice Boisvert, of the region of Boisvert (meaning Glen or Green Woods), packed for an adventure across the Atlantic for French Canada. Upon arrival, the vast green forests lured him deep into Mohican lands. The unfamiliar forests of this lone traveler (from a family of carpenters and jacks) brought a sense of familiarity. Moving northward and pressing west into Algonquin lands he encountered a skirmish from white settlers upsetting the balance of trade between the French loyalists and natives. He was unwittingly captured by the Algonquin and made a slave. His name was a mouthful for natives- so, his new name became- Colixte (co – LEESH – tea).

As an Indian slave (with rights - much different than we think of “slave”), he married an Algonquin girl and was allowed to emigrate. His travels, with his new family lead him to the east coast and then later, by 1773, to the interior of the united states- or territories that we would refer to today as Kansas. With his intimate experience with the dark skinned peoples, he was able to establish a minor homestead in what is now Greenwood County, Kansas.

Gaps in the record at this point are profound and leave much to the imagination. So, skipping forward to 1833, we find ourselves with two adult brothers- sons of Colice. Hmmm..

This is getting a bit too laborious – or rather – boring…

How about the Lyrics…

LETTING THE DAYS GO BY

And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself in another part of the world
And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
And you may ask yourself-well...how did I get here?

Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money’s gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.

And you may ask yourself
How do I work this?
And you may ask yourself
Where is that large automobile?
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful house!
And you may tell yourself
This is not my beautiful wife!

Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money’s gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.

Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...

Water dissolving...and water removing
There is water at the bottom of the ocean
Carry the water at the bottom of the ocean
Remove the water at the bottom of the ocean!

Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/in the silent water
Under the rocks and stones/there is water underground.

Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money’s gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.

And you may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right? ...am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself
My god!...what have I done?

Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/in the silent water
Under the rocks and stones/there is water underground.

Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by/water flowing underground
Into the blue again/after the money’s gone
Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.

Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...same as it ever was...
Same as it ever was...same as it ever was...

Sunday Scriblings

2006-04-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

Xocolatl

…And when after the monkey had ciphered for the twins, the father presented the sacred pod. The twins had survived the bloody ordeal and their oldest sister remained in captivity no more. By the Olmec ways, she had been set free when she obtained the maize and rendered the sweet cane of its juice. The monkey took the juice and heated it with sacred water at the comal pot as the twins tore into the pod and peeled the seed sacks into the fire below.

The toasted pods, nearly charred black, were pulled from the flames and placed on the grinding stone with the corn kernels. Xocolatl, the spirit bird of the pod tree, presented his boiling mixture to the monkey and the twins opened their mouths to take the odor of the sacrificial elixir past their bloodied tongues and into their noses. The spirit bird was free to join his mate and nest in the Xoco tree.

Obedient to the codes of the monkey and in line with the Star Cave of Sacred Water, the twins knelt beside the comal pot and waited for sister to combine the brown meal with the elixir. She proceeded (with the nod of her father), as monkey busied himself with the task of final rite. Father added his own touch with the little red and green chiles. The heat from the fire was no match for the chiles. Bitter and heat now combined - the father and daughter left the twins behind in the cave mouth with monkey.

Not a sound from voice or strained muscle could be heard over the chanting and drums. She danced in a soft swaying rhythm behind her father, un-noticed. When monkey returned, alone, father and daughter entered the cave depths, noting the empty vessel. The Xocolatl had been consumed. Now it was her turn. She led her father by the hand into the darkness. Up ahead, little flames, paired with the twins, danced and flared in the caves’ wind. She recognized the silhouettes and drew between the twins, head bowed in silence.

Father removed the sacred obsidian from his waist pouch and handed it to the twin known as Pa’ Xal- first born. His movement was swift with direct intent- as though he had familiarity with the tool. Her last look was not in horror. Her brow drew tight and then relaxed in submission to the gravity of death. In crimson reflections, the twins embraced and sighed in relief that their ordeal had ended. The limp body of their sister would be carried off by the cave lice.

Father lingered behind a while but the boys ascended into the jungles’ light. The first words, spoken, were not intended to disrespect. Tok’ Xal simply remarked that he hoped that, someday, his daughter would not have to die in the annual Xocolatl rite. Brother added, “The bitterness of the elixir will always remind me of this day.” Father exited the cave and led the twins back to the canals by the Xoco tree. The birds danced for them as they walked by, un-noticed.

http://www.cocoapro.com/index.jsp

e Plurbis Unum

2006-04-22T20:22:00.000-07:00

Many colors
Many races
Many faces
Many ethnicities
Many nations
Many cultures
Many tribes
Many languages
Many...

One God.
God is not a man that HE should respect the boundaries, borders and abilities of man.
One God.
Behold, O' Isreal! The LORD your God is ONE!
One God. One vision.
See?
Not with your eyes. Do you see with the eyes of God?
One God.

By many, ONE.
We is.
Show me your we.

Spring

2006-04-21T06:37:00.000-07:00

I call this "Spring Training." Taken in early March on a rare Oregon day.

Chaos and String theorists... feast your eyes on the complexity of the creator.

And still, we claim, as the ancients did (Thales of Miletus and Aristoltle), every thing in nature can be explained by mathemetical expressions. I say, no.

Embrace the mystery. Fall in love with the designer of your heart. Beauty is not for you to possess. Beauty is seeing what the heart of God sees. Take time to find the joy that can be in each moment. Stop trying to explain everything. Breathe.

The Beholder of the Eye

2006-04-20T21:35:00.000-07:00

Inspiration.
Mystery.
Fascination.
Passion.

Do you have it? Really have it? Not by a little muse demanding your soul and providing only a cute little lymmerick....

Do you have The Beholder of The Eye? Do you see the world through the heart of GOD?

Don't just look though your camera or the view-screen. The heart of GOD is not some megapixelation or digital manipulation.

Capture the heart of GOD.

Show me what your God sees. I dare you. Is it in you?

Who can show the heart of God?

Post your reply with a photo; a picture of Gods' heart...

Spring Training

2006-04-17T23:36:00.000-07:00

Easter, 2006. Along the Kingfisher Trail at Jackson Bottom Wetlands and the Tualatin River.

Sunday Scribbling on Monday

2006-04-17T19:29:00.000-07:00

When We were Wee

Ten year old Tom had to run up to his baseball practice at the local elementary.
His chubby lil' brother (me), followed behind. "Tag-a-long!"
After minutes of warmups and jumpng jacks the stragglers had all arrived.
I sat and watched.
On occasion I fetched a stray ball or foul tip.
Later, as the the afternoon sun turned the field side-ways, I wandered into a farmers' lot.
The ground was hard with funny smelling salty spots where nothing would grow.

Big bro' yelled me down and I hid in the tan and flaxen grasses.
Slowly the team left the green grass and wandered over to the tall white-washed fence.
They were whispering and buzzing and making noises that left my ears confused.
I lookeed up to see all of them, but Tom, standing on the top rail, covering their mouths.

Tom chased me down and tackled me.
I didn't see him coming.

He grabbed my obtuse head with crew-cut spikes behind my ears and slowly spoke with certainty.
"B i g B u l l. F o l l o w m e. D o n ' t m a k e a n o i s e."
Looking at his face in terror I noticed behind him a small dead tree laden with small birds.
Were these the vultures that wait in broods for carrion, like me?

Crawling on bellies, scraping elbows on the hard pan of the bull-pen, fear.
After sneaking out the bottom fence rail, unnoticed by the monstrous horned beast
I noticed that my brother had pee'd his pants.
Then, I felt something warm and wet on me.

We had Wee-Wee'd.

My First Entry

2006-04-12T21:05:00.000-07:00

WE IS.

That's why I want your digital photos.

Behind the veil of a buning bush, Moses asked "and by what name shall I call you?"

His eyes saw the bush; burning but not consumed.

His ears heard the words- I AM. "I am" is decent english grammar. But in the context of a post-exodus Hebraic/Egyptian tongue - it can be best translated, "We is (that we were and will be)."

Yes, GOD announces Himself, WE IS. Even though it breaks the conventions of proper linguistics, GOD replies by describing HIS true state of being.

God, in the plural. Plurality in Unity (caps are mine- out of respect for the Creator not for the gods of grammar).

What do we do with this? Do we turn away in confusion and wonder? Do we shrug off the cute little story about Moses- as nothing more than legend/myth? Do we seek to fully embrace the mystery of the Trinity and walk in faith?

I choose the latter. I choose the mystery. I walk by faith and now seek to find how the the ME is able to embrace the WE. Yes, I include myself in the WE because, as the Israelites still say, "God is Holy, therefore, be Holy."

I attempt to do this by: making myself a servant, living like a slave to the love of GOD, practicing the search for the mystery of WE IS.

I look for the WE IS by simply seeing the world the way it is and the way GOD sees it. By the way I really think God needs Bucky and Ace kicked off American Idol. Elliot rocks!

I have also recently purchased a new monster-camera. I'm enjoying expressing my faith as a kind of visual Haiku. Faith and a novice approach to digital photography is what leads me here. I BLOG, therefore, WE IS.

Please. If you post a reply- INCLUDE A PHOTO- ONE THAT SPEAKS OF THE CREATOR.