Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Trees and the Bramble - Judges 9

When it was told to Jotham, he went and stood on top of Mount Gerizim and cried aloud and said to them, “Listen to me, you leaders of Shechem, that God may listen to you. The trees once went out to anoint a king over them, and they said to the olive tree, ‘Reign over us.’ But the olive tree said to them, ‘Shall I leave my abundance, by which gods and men are honored, and go hold sway over the trees?’ And the trees said to the fig tree, ‘You come and reign over us.’ But the fig tree said to them, ‘Shall I leave my sweetness and my good fruit and go hold sway over the trees?’ And the trees said to the vine, ‘You come and reign over us.’ But the vine said to them, ‘Shall I leave my wine that cheers God and men and go hold sway over the trees?’ Then all the trees said to the bramble, ‘You come and reign over us.’ And the bramble said to the trees, ‘If in good faith you are anointing me king over you, then come and take refuge in my shade, but if not, let fire come out of the bramble and devour the cedars of Lebanon.’

Brother Lawrence - 'The Practice of the Presence of God'


TWELFTH LETTER

IF we were well accustomed to the exercise of the presence of GOD, all bodily diseases would be much alleviated thereby. GOD often permits that we should suffer a little, to purify our souls, and oblige us to continue with Him.

Take courage, offer Him your pains incessantly, pray to Him for strength to endure them. Above all, get a habit of entertaining yourself often with GOD, and forget Him the least you can. Adore Him in your infirmities, offer yourself to Him from time to time; and, in the height of your sufferings, beseech Him humbly and affectionately (as a child his father) to make you conformable to His holy will. I shall endeavor to assist you with my poor prayers.

GOD has many ways of drawing us to Himself. He sometimes hides Himself from us: but faith alone, which will not fail us in time of need, ought to be our support, and the foundation of our confidence, which must be all in GOD.

I know not how GOD will dispose of me: I am always happy: all the world suffer; and I, who deserve the severest discipline, feel joys so continual, and so great, that I can scarce contain them.

I would willingly ask of GOD a part of your sufferings, but that I know my weakness, which is so great, that if He left me one moment to myself, I should be the most wretched man alive. And yet I know not how He can leave me alone, because faith gives me as strong a conviction as sense can do, that He never forsakes us, till we have first forsaken Him. Let us fear to leave Him. Let us be always with Him. Let us live and die in His presence. Do you pray for me, as I for you. I am,

Yours, etc.

FOURTEENTH LETTER

I RENDER thanks to our LORD, for having relieved you a little, according to your desire. I have been often near expiring, though I was never so much satisfied as then. Accordingly I did not pray for any relief, but I prayed for strength to suffer with courage, humility, and love. Ah, how sweet is it to suffer with GOD! however great the sufferings may be, receive them with love. “Tis paradise to suffer and be with Him; so that if in this life we would enjoy the peace of paradise, we must accustom ourselves to a familiar, humble, affectionate conversation with Him: we must hinder our spirits wandering from Him upon any occasion: we must make our heart a spiritual temple, wherein to adore Him incessantly: we must watch continually over ourselves, that we may not do, nor say, nor think anything that may displease Him. When our minds are thus employed about GOD, suffering will become full of unction and consolation.


I know that to arrive at this state, the beginning is very difficult; for we must act purely in faith. But though it is difficult, we know also that we can do all things with the grace of GOD, which He never refuses to them who ask it earnestly. Knock, persevere in knocking, and I answer for it that He will open to you in His due time, and grant you all at once what He has deferred during many years. Adieu. Pray to Him for me, as I pray to Him for you. I hope to see Him quickly. I am,


Yours, etc.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

She was the flower in a world of vines


She was the flower in a world of vines.

As we, blinded
with upturned eyes,
missed her for the gold dipped sky.

She was the distinct on a trellis of green.

As you,
the workaholic machine
thought more of Fortune Magazine.
"That's the beauty of this dream,"
and tucked your soul back in to sleep.
"That's the beauty of this dream;
I can make myself anything."

She was the flower in a world of vines.

As I,
the day break parasite,
lost myself when I lost the light,
and couldn't find her when it set to night.

She was the flower in a world of vines.

Contentment's constancy her spine.
"For Christ's sake, I just need some time.
Can't you see?
I'm blooming."

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Tristan Alexander VanDyke









Came home to the news that my sister and brother Joy and Jesse, had given birth to my newest nephew, Tristan Alexander 4 pounds - 6 ounces, pictured above with Papa J.

I don't know however, whether to be more excited about the fact that he was born on the same day Carl Lewis ran 100 meters in 9.86 seconds, Amelia Earhart made her transcontinental flight, or the US National Park Service was created. The US Park Service is epic, but Amelia Earhart is just downright classy.

Hard to be away, long live the spirit of the progressives.

Congratulations Joy and Jesse.

Dear Lisa Hannigan,

The truth is, I've had a crush on you since the eleventh grade.

That was 2003; I had purchased 'O' for a girl I liked, which she returned a month later, saying she wasn't crazy about the music, nor the woman painted on the inside jacket sleeve; however, after listening straight through eleven or so times, including your version of Silent Night, I remember knowing things would never work out for her and I, at least not, as Dean Moriarty would say, 'in the deepest depths of our souls' kind of way.

(If I had a choice in the matter, this would be read in blue ink, from lined notebook paper, and on a Saturday morning, several days after it was written, to give the words time to settle; but as it goes, it'll be delivered via social network, immediately, late Wednesday).

You are likely one of the most organic and intrinsically beautiful women I have ever come across. I might have said most, but would not have been honest, considering a dear friend of mine that is now married to my best friend; and the girl I still love, but shouldn't say so because it hurts more than helps. I must admit I was a little disappointed in myself when I penned the word organic, considering the implications and the overused, almost, marketable nature of the phrase; but I swore before writing this that I wouldn't erase a single word, knowing each one would be absolutely sincere. I feel the need therefore, to clarify, at least in my mind, what is meant when I said you were beautiful. I'm sure you hear that a lot and want to be intentional. Besides, if I make an entire fool of myself, have the occasion to compliment two friends, whom I hold in still higher regard, and know will always think I'm nice.

I meant the type of whole-being beautiful that is truly generous; for in your face, eyes and voice, composure and laugh, I am gifted with breath, clarity and reverence, joy and light. And I meant the type of beautiful that at descriptions end can only be likened to something within the natural world, and even then most things fall short. I sense Shakespeare caught my drift, or perhaps I stole his, in simply reiterating, "Shall I compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

I recently listened to your session on BBC with Dermot O'Leary, and no one was there to enjoy it with me, but for the rest of the night, I swear I wore an indelible smile. Sincerely, my entire disposition was sheer fire-light, that could not have been extinguished by the rainy season. I was reminded that you sing with your eyes closed. I remember watching videos of you performing on 'Volcano' and 'Rootless Tree' at Abby Road with your eyes closed and hands in your pockets, but to know you still preferred that with no cameras rolling was positively enchanting. I am presently living in El Salvador, but truth be told, invested an entire restless night in the thought of purchasing tickets to see you in Brooklyn this coming October; however, considering my older sister is going to have my fourth nephew in Florida this September, didn't think my family would forgive a visit to the states, solely to chase a musical interest. I'll be the first to admit I'm not a musical critic, but thought an entire letter without references to anything but your nature and personality, would even then sell you short. Beyond the creativity, I find the character and soul within your music and performances to make one feel sincerely welcome within your songs. All that to say, I feel invited into your music.

I think you're a unique and charming lady, I enjoy watching you perform, hearing you talk about baking bread, and 'don't know if you speak any other languages other than your own, but I'd like to meet you.'

Michael Kaiser

My constant goal in all of this was to never necessitate a disclaimer or preface of, "sincerely, I'm not crazy." Not certain if I accomplished that, but hopefully you can look past the uneasiness and self-doubt to find something worth your early Thursday morning.

Most sincerely,
Michael

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Charter MUN - General Assembly

I had the chance this afternoon to Skype into a Model UN meeting at Charter High School, and as my eyes scanned the students and u-shaped desks of Mr. Z's classroom, debating the superiority of Ocean vs Land Animals, I couldn't help but reminisce upon all the faces that just three months ago I said goodbye to. The meeting ran far better than any I can recollect being in charge of, and, I wrote this somewhere before, but am confident my face will wear an indelible glow for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I don't know if it's the water, or if Charter feeds its students infinite supplies of supernatural sugar in their orientation powder cookies, but there is something spellbinding in their hello and smiles that make me ecstatic to live life.

I don't know if you knew it Patrick Haas, sometimes I suspected you did, but my biggest fear while teaching was that you'd realize in your front row seat that you were much smarter than myself. I may have had more stuff in my brain, but yours is capable of handling and organizing so, so much more....you should know that....same with you Zachary Hilberer, Candace Lawrence, Mr. Dangler, Mrs. Jacobs, Julian Grudens, and the rest of my first, second, third, fourth, Homebase, sixth, seventh, and eighth hour classes.

Thank you Charter for giving me a podium from which to appear competent. It wasn't any ability of mine, but your esteem, that made teaching such a covetable post in my mind. I am sincerely grateful. Now go find a tree to do your homework under.

Homebase....I'm glad I got that note out before school started. My school address is temporary out of service, so for the time being, feel free to write to MichaelJustin5@gmail.com. Toodles.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I look to my eskimo friend



New album 'Passenger' release September 20.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Did you feel Gettysburg?

Transpiring surprise,
neither anticipated a fight.
Awakened July,
ought,
like Eden's blue-sky calm,
breathe sunshine.
But,

more bitter than war,
are bullets between brothers.
Insufferable sword;
the grudge against neighbor.

Church steeple's lookout,
barrel for barrel,
round for round.
Morning lapsed,
midday's exchange
broke through the town.

Our mothers bore witness,
victims to the the sound.
I took the offense;
you claimed the high ground.

More bitter than war,
are bullets between brothers.
Insufferable sword;
the grudge against neighbor.

Did you feel July Third?
We were Cemetery Ridge.

Did you feel Gettysburg?
We are Cemetery Ridge.

The settled smoke's remorse; unveils
the riderless horse.
The field's scattered dead;
oh the livings' regret.

Did you feel July Third?
We were Cemetery Ridge.

Did you feel Gettysburg?
We are Cemetery Ridge.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

There's a Damien Rice song for every scene, at least every one of mine



I couldn't help but notice the light of so many recent happenings, Ali and Joshem getting engaged, Brian and Erin having a baby, Neal getting a tattoo, Rebekah, Rachel, and Greg going back to school, Jesse celebrating a birthday one month early, Alan moving into a new place and having two bicycles, my nephews starting school, Dad building a Dunkin Donuts (his life goal I might add), and from the shadows wanted to respond in the only way I really know well, in penning my joy for what's occurring and the angst for not having been there.

The world spins madly on, we know that, the weepies told us so six years ago. And yet, I can't help but wonder why God brings people so far away only to pull them through the internal dregs of wanting only to be where they just ventured from.

(I suppose by people, I should clarify I mean me, and by God, must give the disclaimer that he probably, in this scenario, is wearing black jeans and a faded Zapzilla t-shirt. Holy smokes...did I just claim to be God, or realize that in my world it's far too easy to claim and credit him for what in all reality was my own aims, my own fancy, my own resolve, to be anywhere and everywhere but where I now am; to be doing anything and everything that I am not presently doing? For when even now, in the clear and present wake of being so close, literally weeks, to the very thing I've sworn to want and to have been called to, to anyone and everyone, for the last I don't know how long....want nothing more, than to be home).

I want nothing more,
than to be home.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Jack London

My babe has got a spine
thicker than my thumb.
With words, and soul,
that answer to no one.

Took me on a plane
passed the ruined ancient Rome.
Took me on a boat,
on a bus,
on a train and home.

Oh my god,
oh my god,
what have i done?

I mistook you
for old and worn;
set you on a shelf
to read elsewhere.

Read the words,
in bold above,
Classics, Please
Handle with Care.

Oh my god,
oh my god,
what have i done?

I have searched
the aisles
for the place i remember;
with yet to find
the shelf that contains
what i left there

But this i know.
Contentment
is a myth, when without
the one you treasure.

Contentment
is a myth, when without
the one you treasure.