::SPIRITUALITY::

Sep 02 2010

Deep Thought #11

I I I I I’m trying to get back into the swing. I I I I I’ve fallen off and knocked my seat against the gravel. For a long time I’ve been sitting on the gravel not wanting to investigate the damage. I I I I I know there’s blood involved. I I I I I’m positive there’s irregularly shaped pieces of gray matter splintered underneath my cheeks. It’s in my nature to be afraid of damage to myself. The damage itself isn’t what hurts, it’s the aftermath, the bleeding, the wound. I I I I I’m probably a hemophiliac. No, that’s a lie. Blood doesn’t make me faint or sigh heavily. Blood doesn’t make me lose balance or breath. I I I I I simply don’t like assessing damage. I I I I I’d rather let it go unnoticed, leave it ignored, forget. Stephen Hawking doesn’t need God to believe in the creation of the universe. Stephen Hawking has found his answer. What existed before the Big Bang? What/who was the First Mover? I I I I I’ll try to pretend I’m not curious about this question. Impossible! I’m human! Not being curious about what existed before the Big Bang is the same thing as turning into a hamster. I I I I I’m not a hamster. I I I I I don’t look like a hamster and my legs are much longer. Stephen Hawking says laws like gravity enable the universe to create itself from nothing. Gravity is ‘God’. Stephen Hawking understands his own mind. Stephen Hawking sees straight through the illusion, straight into freedom. Big Bang!  Precisely! The universe exists for Stephen Hawking spontaneously. God didn’t need to be there. Nothing needed to be there. The law of gravity makes this true in Stephen Hawking’s brain. But can’t God be spontaneously created with the universe? Can’t the 2 come to be simultaenously spontaneously into being? I I I I I’m taking off my shorts now and I I I I I’m looking behind me now and I I I I I see my gravel-stabbed cheeks and I I I I I’m alright, Ma (I’m only bleeding).

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Aug 06 2010

Mount Bonnell at Dusk, Set to DJ Shadow

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We walked up the eight million stony steps to Mount Bonnell for respite.

It was a shaky walk for my feet.

I nearly stumbled.

But, in the end, I somehow caught myself.

This was our first time there at dusk.

All we wanted was to feel the air move and cool our skin.

You know, in some places, the air moves.

It’s called wind.

But Austin, in the summertime, is stagnant and sweltering.

Austin, in the summertime, knows no forgiveness.

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Mar 14 2010

Sunday Humor :: Tree Hugging Tree Farts

Published by herocious under ::SPIRITUALITY::,::WEIRD::

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Mar 10 2010

…I’ll meet you there.

OUT BEYOND IDEAS

OF WRONGDOING & RIGHTDOING,

THERE IS A FIELD.

I’LL MEET YOU THERE.

WHEN THE SOUL LIES DOWN

IN THAT GRASS,

THE WORLD IS TOO FULL

TO EVEN TALK ABOUT.

IDEAS,

LANGUAGE,

EVEN THE PHRASE

‘EACH OTHER’

DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE.

- Rumi [13th century] جلال الدین محمد بلخى

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Mar 09 2010

Guideposts :: What Prayer Can Do

A MYSTERIOUS FIND

I’m not sure how the March 2010 issue of Guideposts ended up on my coffee table, but here it is, staring at me in the face. If something is fortuitous enough to make it into my home, especially reading material, I usually peruse it from front to back cover,

once.

Rarely do magazines live beyond the first perusal, and this Guideposts is definitely going out with the recyclables.

That said, as a sixth grader, I remember going through great effort to preserve the mint condition of a particular issue of Guideposts,

the one in which Orel Hershiser graced the cover, back when he played for the LA Dodgers and helped his team clench the World Series.

God, faith, prayer, and love comprised a large part of Orel’s success. He gave the Christian readers of Guideposts a glimpse into the spirituality that, so he believed, was responsible for everything he had gotten out of life.

I didn’t preserve the issue because of the article, but because of the picture of him on the front cover – better than any baseball card. He stood in his MLB uniform, looking like king of the mound.

The March 2010 issue of Guideposts, on the other hand, has a picture of some talking head on the front cover I’ve never heard speak, not a talented baseball player, i.e. Orel Hershiser.

He was one of two pitchers [Nolan Ryan being the other] who taught me, not with their words, but with their pitching form. I could learn so much just by watching them throw sinkers on TV. That’s all it took.

Then I’d go outside with my glove and tennis ball and make nuanced adjustments to my own form as I pitched into an imaginary batter’s box on the side of the house.

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