First Snow

Pandorum

He stands on the shore as the waves crash over the lighthouse. Ships lost from port may be in better favor than the lost thoughts crashing about in his mind.  The storm on the lake is nothing next to the storm where is heart should be.  He braces against the gale.  Sand, water and wind whip at his back, as his own introspective judgments chew at his thoughts, eroding the great stone pillar of his conviction.  The evil that darkens the sky threatens to sink boats and thrash homes.  It is something from Pandora’s box, something that must run its course, something that cannot be put back.  Maybe it is not something entirely ruinous though.  Maybe it is akin to the maelstrom in his mind.  The knowledge he cannot put back in the box, that which he cannot un-know.  With this knowledge came power, and with the power came burden.  The burden he now struggles with laying down or carrying is one he cannot share.  The wind whips at the back of his jacket and roars in his ears through the hood.  The inferno in his brain roars louder as he finds no answers in the crash of the tempestuous lake.  All he has is a plan, dark machinations with his pillar as their foundation, a bit of dark complexity to be ignited before everything is scrubbed away by the sand and wind and hard little bits of truth and lies.

The Shop Of Net

Requiem For A Storm

Into The Maelstrom!

Blow Day

The wind is starting to blow here a little... It is supposed to be the biggest storm in over a decade.  I only managed to get a couple of pictures, and none of the truly giant waves crashing against the lighthouse, because I didn't want to expose my lens to the gale force winds, sand, and spray for very long.  I have a couple of writings marinating in my brain, so expect me to post more soon!

Free Wallpaper :)

I stole these photos for all of my friends who are stuck behind desks and unable to appreciate the beauty of nature every day.  My adventures have begun, and starting most days with a view like this has done wonders in the way of making me feel alive once more.  

Teddy Roosevelt once said something to the effect of: The greatest reward life has to offer is the opportunity to work hard at tasks worth accomplishing. 

When I say that I "stole" these pictures, I mean that I was the photographer... but any attempt to capture the magic of a morning on the lake must be counted as thievery.

Changing Lures

I had a short bit that I started on my face book page and concluded in the right-hand column here, to hopefully entice readers.  I have decided that it is time for something new though, so I pasted the old lure below, and put the new in its place... enjoy.


You will never know all the little things I want to tell you, because you only listen when I whisper in your ear. You will never know the secrets I hide in the open because you think I'm crazy when I yell. You will never understand me because...


... you love to look at me but never take the time to see what I see, to appreciate my view... to see how and why I love the things I love, or even why I love you. So I whisper and I shout. I look my best for you and I hold you close. I hope one day you'll tire of me and glance away and see the words I've glued together, the world I've torn apart, the scars I've sewn together to mend this heavy heart. Look just once at what I've done, and then you can walk away. I just don't want you to carry on, not knowing who I am.

Then They Fell

It seems so many in my life have recently passed on to whatever life comes next.  I write of this, not to illustrate any burden or hardship in my life, but possibly to explain the way I have become.  I feel that death has touched me and marked my heart with a bit of callus, a bit of bitterness, and a bit of numb indifference.  I don’t know that this is altogether a great way to be, but it is the way I am.  Some time ago I came to the point where I just couldn’t stand to hurt anymore and yet I also could not ignore what was always at the corner of my mind, and so I began to accept death.  While I wouldn’t say that I consider the man in the long black coat a friend, he has shown me the way through, the way to solace.  Solace is where, in my heart, I can begin to understand, and still remember and appreciate those who have passed. 

Recently, another relative of mine fell ill with cancer.  My uncle Joe.  When I first heard of this, the callused part of my heart refused to accept it.  I said to myself that he would be fine, and I just pushed it as far from the forefront of my mind as I could.  Then after more talks with my mother, and after visiting him last spring, it began to sink in a bit more.  Then I was mostly bitter.  I knew it was happening but I still held on to some hope.  Mostly though, I just didn’t want to think about it, because the emotions confused me, and none of them were pleasant.  I tried to rationalize, and compartmentalize everything.  I tried to put the whole concept into a part of my mind where I could dismiss it as a bad dream, because it really didn’t make sense.  I suppose, in doing this, I tried to trick myself into being numb.  Whether that trick worked or not, I am not sure. 

In our most recent conversations, my mother told me of her visit with him, and of his failing condition.  At this point I felt sorry, for Joe, for his wonderful family who loved him as only a family can, and for my mother who cared for him as only a sister could.  I was sorry for having been so afraid to let the emotional gravity of this impact me.  I was sorry for being small, when I could have been big.  I could have done more to comfort, more to sympathize.  I could have borne a larger portion of this burden, if it would have helped.  I felt the sorrow, the sadness, the bitterness, and the darkness creep in now.  In my last conversation with my mother, I knew the end was nigh.  I felt the pressure on my heart, and yet there were no tears.  Whether by my attempts at numbing myself, or by some other malfunction, I couldn’t find release for my thoughts and emotions about Joe. 

I knew I loved him.  I knew I cared.  I couldn’t understand why the news of his condition hadn’t broken me down yet.  Was the levy not filled to the point of bursting?  In all of my introspection, I have found only one possible answer to this that makes any sort of sense.  Death has taught me acceptance.  Death has also taught me to believe in my heart that when good people pass on, they go to a better place.  The other lesson that took time for me to learn from Death, is that when he visits those who are suffering, he does not strike them down with malice, but rather takes their hand with mercy and leads them kindly to whatever comes next.  I must believe that the reason I was able to contain my emotions was because of these lessons, and the fact that I am no longer confused or afraid of what comes after.  Every memory I have of Joe is a good memory, simple, funny, and loving.  Every story I have heard told about Joe illustrated his good nature.  So, in the most basic part of my mind, the part that has accepted Death’s lessons, there is no room for doubt about where Joe was going when he finally left us. 

All of my rationalizations, all of my theories on the lessons of life and death, and all of the emotional sandbags in the world could not hold back the flood that crashed through when I received word of Joe’s final breath.  Perhaps it was fitting.  After Joe peacefully slipped into the next realm, having been bathed in the love of his son, daughter, wife, and sister, I quietly sat on my bed and allowed myself to feel the emotions of what has come to pass.  Then they fell. The tears came in waves, amidst both quiet sobs and quiet laughter, as I remembered the times spent with my uncle Joe and the happiness he shared with those he loved.  The tears fell, washing away the callus, the bitter, and the denial, and reminding me of what may be most important.  Joe must be remembered.  Everyone we love who passes on must be remembered, and when they go we must do our part to make up for the love and kindness that they are no longer here to give.  With this in mind, when the flow of sadness subsided, I began to write this.  Now that I am done, all that is left that I can do is to remember Joe, and to give tribute by acting with kindness with him in mind.

For Joe Bromley (1954 – 2010)

Though we often measure ourselves by the number or quality of people who love us, God measures us by the people we give love to.  By either of these standards, Joe was a great man.  In the grand scheme of life, we are all but tiny flashes, brief and insignificant.  Yet, it’s when those tiny flashes come together and share compassion that something greater may be achieved.  Tiny flashes like Joe make that possible.  People such as Joe make it possible for us to be more than tiny flashes, to come together and burn a little brighter, and this sense of family is something we should all aspire to.  Wherever those flashes go once they are dark, we’ll all find out soon enough.  Joe, and others like him, wait for us there now.  We’ll all be along shortly, but not before we do what needs to be done here, to leave this world a better place than it was before, as Joe did.