Sol's Inner Vault

It doesn't say to love, like, or admire our parents. It doesn't say to celebrate them, or to please our parents. The Commandment doesn't direct us to be generous, appreciative, or even caring to our parents. These qualities are all worthy, ideal, and universally beneficial. Instead, God only commands us to honor our parents, just this, so we may know the distinction.

Since everything in the universe is in motion, all matter, every atom, every sub-atomic partical, then all observation is by necessity of the past. We're always seeing what was, just a nanosecond, year, or light year ago.  The background radiation glow from the Big Bang--13.8 billion years ago--the universe's most recent re-birth, is observable. The moon is really the moon a second ago. The sun, nine minutes ago, a faraway galaxy, we see how it looked before its light traveled for trillions of miles to our telescope lens. We can essentially see only the past, therefore we may never witness anything 'just as it is What else lingers in experience like this? What other observations that travel the deceptive distances of perception. Delayed, yet perfectly on time, defying the physical laws of memory and imagination? How does love travel thru the cosmos? Is it an undiscovered constant, like the precisely consistent and well-proven standard of light's finite speed? Do we feel

Unlike these floating rainbows, it's the unsolved mysteries that will endure beyond our tenure, that will challenge the next seekers into the future. However curious, we cannot know certain things and will likely never know, if knowable at all. If God is obsolete, or unnecessary, then what takes authority? Can a secular civilization thrive?

Andromeda and Milky Way galaxies merging, and humans pondering insurance plans, or warring over pieces of countries, or binging TicTok. Black holes vacuuming up stars around them, and humans enhance their lips and buttocks, or zip line into tourist jungles, or take selfies while getting carjacked. Massive structures a million light years across barge thru the cosmos as giant, drifting gravity monsters that menace magnetic domination, and humans crowd source a new drone pizza chain, or follow with devotion the fine and fickle minor gods of desire and vain consumption. No one can comprehend size and distance in the universe, or how sub-atomic humans factor on any celestial map, insignificant to quasars, supernovas, unknown clusters of undiscovered chaos very far from this oxygenated orb, yet all unaware, all irrelevant to human life.

Last sky I see will be a pastel collage of me, illuminated from behind as if a kind Artist had steadied my hand all along.  Calendars of wheeling days, colors blended into who I became beyond my name, old hues of incandescent splendor, fleeting shades of discovery, moments found, lost, then found again when least expected, skies of keen surprise and rapt wonder, last sky I see  will be the quiet dissolution of me, then endless merging, beyond the canvases of time, last sky I see, fading kaleidescopes of memory.

Certainly one glorious day, followers of Christ assure us, answers will then be revealed. Speculate, or simply choose to believe for now and eternity, but choose only one. What did the disciples witness after the Crusifiction, after three days had passed? Can we know what they saw, or, if their telling is literal? Sightings of Jesus are episodically mentioned in Scripture several times by both individuals and groups of people. The first to see Him was Mary Magdalene, in   Mark 16:9 , “Now after He had risen early on the first day of the week, He first appeared to Mary Magdalene, from whom He had cast out seven demons.” Then, in Luke 24:15-18 , the other disciples, in deep discussion about Him, see Jesus but do not recognize him.  But, what does this mean? Was Jesus disguised, and why? They couldn't possibly fear His second nortal death. Then, Mary, mother of Jesus, is mentioned in   John 20:14 , “When she had said this, she turned around, and beheld Jesus standing there, and di

After the small family took their photos and walked on, the thousand-year old debate between the two giants continued, not an inch closer.  "Fine.Then, tell me-- who made you? Who made me? Who made all these others? You think it's more like what made everything, not Who? Or, no one created all of existence, it was already so?" "Not exactly, but cleverly phrased, my believing friend. What is more tree than the idea of God? Most trees want and need a kind, loving parent. There is comfort and security in assuming we're not in charge. The idea of God is the answer to existential loneliness, and the mysterious experience of death. Once God was believed to exist, trees could relax a little bit. We're just the children, after all, under God's care and control, except we still have free will? More than confusing, it's clearly an irrational, contradictory deal. All-knowing God would also already know our free will, yes? No. But, no one is entirely sure, or can

This makes me wonder about unknown connections, unbelievable if we did know, hidden from normal awareness for good reason, master circuitry of pan-neural messaging, physics on the other side that would blow our mortal minds, how in this expanding universe everything affects everything, mostly unseen, we can measure differences and similarities, redraw the jigsaw to our sense of physical limitations, still we cannot know who talks to me or you, and by what fantastic venue. Can a sudden, unlikely bunch of blooms be a magical hello from another realm, maybe from someone who's simple company, a cherished blossom, is so dearly missed? Who knows? Not I, or where the mind may go, or return from, those pathways remain conundrums of veiled view, bouquets of mindfulness in bowls of day.

"Every jot and tittle." The famous bit of Scripture near the end refers to the sanctity and wholeness of the Bible. No one dare change, misinterpret, or misrepresent any single detail from Genesis to Revelations. The belief among Scripture literalists is that it's all-ordained, complete and errorless, God's Word sacrosanct for all eternity, no question of divine authority.  If only I could accept that direct caution, life would be simpler. But, I cannot because I've also read about the history of the Bible's organization and final collection. This apocryphal legacy- what gospels and works were included and excluded- is an intriguing and controversial chronicle of politics, power, and struggle for influence.  Included among the four well known Gospels are at least twenty other gospels authored by early Christians in the First, Second, and Third Centuries. The main ten that were ultimately excluded: Gospel of the Infancy, Gospel of Bartholomew, Gospel of Mary Ma

The man realized he no longer cared about the report card of his life, how successful he was, how many winning days tallied, or how much love he had known. Instead, a strange sense of uncaring washed over him like a flush of cool, calm acceptance- the race had been run, but the man didn't care at all who had won. The last portal was ahead, but who could say what's final? The man felt light years beyond fear, he fully knew his passing thru was near.

Memory is many things in the lifetime of human experience, always with us, who can say when it all begins? Is there memory pre-birth, maybe of sound or sensation? What could rekindle such an early imprint? Mostly, I think of memory as the lifelong friend who we know will not go away even for a day, if we're lucky. But, the friend is both welcome and unwelcome, enjoyed, tolerated, maybe sometimes dreaded. A friend considerate with kind recollection for a vulnerable moment, most useful. Or, an insensitive friend, intruding rudely into a perfectly pleasant afternoon with a scene from long ago, far better forgotten. That's how friends are, and how I am as friend to others, both aware and unaware, I'm certain. Memory hangs around, always near, what else can we do but be grateful it's still in our grasp?

What happens to the idea of God if extraterrestrial contact is ever made? Genesis says God created heavens and earth, but there is no mention of beyond our little rock.  The more I learn about the physical universe, the more impossible that we're alone. With trillions of trillions of stars, certainly innumerable solar systems will have equidistant planets that harbor life in some form. Types of living organisms may vary like limitless forms of energy. We cannot imagine what we cannot invent even with our imagination. The universe must be vastly teeming with biological possibilities. So, where is any trace of it, life? Why haven't we heard from these statistically innumerable cosmic neighbors? Why no proven contact in all humankind history, so far, at least? In a word: distance. Anything out there has the same dilemma everything else has: the unthinkable distances of space, unfathomable to the mind's sense or dimensional and proportional comprehension.  We cannot conceptuali

Here's a scary notion: defined or undefined, we are 24/7 vessels of God's energy. Here's a joyous notion: defined or undefined, we are 24/7 vessels of God's energy. What? Both cannot be true. Yet, the scary, joyous fact is that we cannot escape from this truth! Living in the world is both, with God's omnipresence like gravity, or Dark Energy--we see only its wondrous effect, yet little else.  Scary because of the arduous responsibility, joyous because of the privilege. Each moment another breath of wonder, each breath another gifted moment. As a divine vessel in human form, what do I bring to the day?

Both atheists and believers bank their faith in unknowns.  Both may loathe conceding key points of rational challenge. My last three essays examined the legitimacy of doubt, and wise counsel of ambient uncertainty. The integrity of not believing with no proof of evidence. So, it's only right that the inherent positives of believing are also reviewed. An atheist hates to admit the very obvious benefits of faith. Or, he or she will question that any benefit still results from magical thinking, or, "facts not in evidence". First and foremost, faith and praying are intrinsically selfless. Thru focus on God, we defuse from ourselves, and our selfies. This shift of consciousness away from the 'me-ego' naturally encourages wonder, awe, and appropriate gratitude in kind. Next, faith is sustainably healing, redemptive, and nurturing. We are simply and humbly comforted by faith, held fast in the secure heart of God's universal love for all Creation. That's a Big Clu

The case against faith has a long history, as long as believers have chosen their own path over skeptics and seekers. Six centuries before Jesus of Nazareth preached his Gospel of Good News in Jerusalem, teaching that the life of salvation and deliverance was imminent, Siddhartha Gautama stated that belief cannot come from a prophet's words or ancient religious books. Rather, the Buddha favored applying the test of reason to all matters of fact, belief, and knowledge. There is nothing more human than humans feeling so exalted in inspirational thought that they also assume their mortal revelations must come from a Higher Authority, a God who singularly speaks universal and eternal truths thru their personally channeled prophesy. No doubt, during our species' prehistoric time, well before any civilizations formed, the very first cave prophet declared that the Sun was in charge.  Everyone wants to be believed. Claiming "God said so.", lets the prophet off both hooks of c

How do we experience "time"? Put aside, for this stream, the space-physics and science dynamics of time. Rather, how does time feel? Certainly, time involves pace, and sense of past and future. We may feel time in a crazy rush of parenting years, our kids shooting up like instant sprouts, time in a great big hurry straight forward, no looking back or sideways. Fleeting time. At other stages, the chapters can read much slower, during both bliss or sorrow, both joy or deep anguish. Time may creep as a prison term, or as if on a paradise island, moment by moment, so slow it seems there are even more moments in between. Or, time may suspend to stillness, as in the last, breathless moment of existence.  So, we feel time fast-slow, stopped, or flown by, all of these paces and tempos of consciousness, as background and context, imaginary or real. As science would explain it, our very limited senses and sensory systems create an illusion of time passing as a continuam of experience.

Sometimes lately, like now, my brain feels almost fevered, as if my quarrelous thoughts simmer away to a quick boil. And, I just got up. 6am. Haven't even seen the headlines yet. These times we're living thru, everyone jokes like it's funny-- crazy, right? But, how crazy?  How insane has our culture become, and who really cares? Today, we see more men being publicly violent with no restraint, as others video the damage for TikTok hits; the masses always comply. Today, abject cruelty is ranked, scored, reviewed, discussed to death, and classified to social archives for future reference. Today, what a man and woman are can no longer be defined. Arbitrary identity towers over individual integrity. Fast and gratuitous wealth dominates over random charity; while power is the most sought after asset. Today, gutter profanity flows everywhere like running water. Tiny children curse and their parents laugh, how cute-- hey, mom, dad, isn't that the future? Remorseless media celeb

Wheeling galaxies suspended in fine motion pinned to a backlight of faint mystery far away glitter for fools or God's handiwork too many questions like stars that show then vanish  beneath horizons envisioned in dreams filaments of space repeat as neural pathways tributaries of experience measured by light years of distance no one can transverse not yet at least the vast dark expanse of universe that bars our knowledge of each other too far off doomed as strangers beyond mapping out fantasies of zodiacs heros and villains across the heavens battles of good and evil rage on as we sleep all forgotten when we rise as a final star blends into daylight the cosmos hidden behind a busy day's light  of chores and commerce but everpresent in every passing moment the galaxy calls out with gravity's insistent pull over all bending the doubtful persuading the stars to form their clusters as cerebral branches of networks with lights in chains of overlapping influence as if we cannot eve

Non-believers say it's a zero sum game. All or nothing. Glory, or folly. There's no middle status or compromise. This is the essential core of fundamental Christianity. With nothing less important than souls at stake, and salvation the timeless mission.  It is also an impressive quality of the literalist Bible followers of Jesus Christ--you have faith in the entire story, accepting every word inspired directly from God, from Genesis to Revelations. Bethlehem to the Cross.There is but one path. If there is no Sabbath, there are no Miracles. If there is no Garden of Eden, there is no Resurrection. The whole story of the  traditional Messianic narratives foretold by divinely driven prophets, and promised to lost, wandering humankind. Faith means you accept as true above and beyond any proof or evidence of fact. You choose to believe without justification, inquiry, or critical evaluation.  Faith is the fabric of knowing hopefulness, and the rock solid foundation for values. All is

For this essay we assume God's unqualified presence, and the moral judging requisite of a Creator. God both exists, and judges right, wrong, glory, sinfulness, and life from death.   Then, does God also judge entire nations? This is a tricky query, because the intrinsic notion may be that individual souls are divinely assessed, not whole countries. But, Scripture is clear: nations are strictly held to account all throughout the Bible.  In the Torah, i.e., the five beginning books of the Old Testament, the nation of Israel is frequently admonished for sustaining a culture of sinning, and turning away from God's values. Shockingly, God ultimately floods the entire world, all the nations, for ignoring the Commandments that pained, frustrated Moses was given. Another interesting pattern is described throughout Scripture. In chapters of Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Isaiah,  there are nine oracles of judgment against a group of nations—Egypt, Philistia, Moab, Ammon, Edom, Damascus, Kedar a

Beginning with an incongruous statement, a seemingly opposite set of terms, how can doubt be wise? Doubt isn't a pleasant experience, it often comes with worry, or confusion. No one is ever willingly doubtful. However, doubt implies a certain standard of proof, a verification of assessment.  Doubt equals "still inquiring, not convinced by facts presented." Still exploring, still questioning, unwilling or unable to accept what others claim as facts. Being skeptical is a state of mind that doesn't necessarily involve conflict or a negative denial-- it just means I'm not convinced regarding some well-established narratives that have been accepted as "reality". The wisdom of doubt includes the liberating quality of vigorous curiosity, the freedom to keep inquiring, learning, and thinking.

Problem isn't exactly the right word, more like dilemma. My dilemma. I'm only a flawed human, reading and trying to comprehend God's mind, but the Bible is so woefully inconsistent. Certainly, a huge ton of Scripture is remarkably inspiring and eminently sensible, therefore very useful. Then, there's occasional Scripture that's crazy, like declaring an adulterer must be put to death, and ditto for gays, death again. Also, less lethal bigotries like men cannot marry divorced woman, that's adultery, too. Huh? Sorry, no way that's God's word or will. So, not every "jot and tittle" of Scripture was Creator inspired. The dilemma becomes separating the "wheat from the chaff", gleaning that which is godly true from negative, man-conceived ideas.  More ungodly notions include: in Jeremiah, God allegedly commands cannibalism against Israel's enemy. But, wow. In Psalm 137.9 we read: "Happy is the one who seizes your infants and dashe

Don't like God. You read it right. There is no Commandment to like God. Love, fear, and remain in awe of God exclusively, yes, for all this existence we most affectionately call the Universe.  But, there's much about God that only frustrates me with shrouded unknowing. God won't reveal, confirm, or prove the idea of a Creator. Instead, we are told to believe. Faith. Believing that which isn't empirically proven or verified. So far, no trace of God's face, or much insight into God's nature. I don't like not knowing. Simply deciding to believe isn't at all satisfactory to me. That idea only leaves me unfulfilled, seeking as before what is true, what is false. I don't like God for being so inconsistent. Save the Jews with Moses, desert the Jews of Europe WWII, and everyone else lost in all the world's many wars. God allows suffering of innocents with no explanation.  There are countless more examples down thru history. Terrible evil wins every day a

Tyranny is an irrational monster.  A godless empire, empty of soul and faith, it cannot be won over with mere appeals for justice. Of course, Jesus of Nazareth never accepted that notion. Menacing Rome, with its powerful, systematic dominance over all of Judea, had no conscience to bend, no mercy to encourage. Yet still, the single mission of the Gospel was clear: bring the Good News of God's redemptive kingdom to all, including the non-believers. Jesus thought of old Moses, and of besieged Noah, and of their seemingly impossible tasks, their deep will of conviction against the one-eyed giants of human evil and fear. After his baptism experience in the desert with his prophet cousin John, Jesus retreated to his time of fasting and prayer, just as the prophet Elijah had done in his time of anguish. The Gospels most often quote the books of Psalms and Isaiah.  One may wonder and research which scriptures Jesus may have drawn strength from. Perhaps, Isaiah 41:10- "Fear not, fo

Many forms of life feel sadness. But, remorse is reserved for humans, and unknown to all other creatures. A thousand year old redwood giant by fate and destiny must topple over, and with no regret, none whatsoever. A tiny spider completes a final web, then casually dies in its corner, no prey of remorse entwined. One day, long from now, a very senior owl in its last frozen moment will bow down in deep silence, into the snow, as if the normal course all along, another departing winter, no remorse.

He knows. So, he can pretend. He knows how, and actually it's necessary nearly all the time. Because, almost everyone believes in it, time that is. Everyone thinks that it exists.  But, he knows it doesn't exist at all, anywhere. Time is the principal yardstick of relative perspective and distance, that's all; a finite tool. Space-time is the working fabric woven from historical scientific agreement, a measurable way to deduce our relative position in the constantly moving cosmos.   Observing, we see things aging in a most convincing manner of birth, decay, and demise. From the tiniest nano organisms to the most massive galactic structures, there are undeniable cycles of creation, destruction. But, he's not fooled, knowing it is illusory, time as the pragmatic invention of human thought, or, a Creator's shorthand math of comprehension for imagining vastly inconceivable distances, scales and magnitudes so great that they are constantly expanding even further out, all

Wind Haiku Remarkable how  a simple January  wind's thrashing hurry reminds us of what  else but everything that is uncontrollable beyond our own choice coming from all four corners gusts of chance and fate like the days blowing off one by one regardless of our mad clinging on to some daydream of immortality lost but then somehow found it's a myth guessing wind's inclination beyond what the trees tell us direction being a matter of perspective always relative like time-misted clouds unaffected by stray wind haunting sleep's damp cave remarkable how the moon gave permission to the wind to be wild beyond influence the convincing illusion we control our lives any more than wind decides its destination speed or duration which begs the question if not by our own design who is in control?

The resident voices in my head compete for attention. There is always a quarrel of perception going on, a constant figuring out that finds no final sum. True, it's a new year. But, there are no new secrets the wind carries, and no new wisdom from our sun or recycled rain. There is no answer that will satisfy every question, no keen solution to the angst of innocents, the hapless victims of change.  True, another new year, but that's simply our quant and arbitrary calendar tradition. The earth spins by its own schedules via powers unseen and many factors yet in mystery, how it's pinned so precisely in space by the fickle reign of gravity, the ultimate, unseen web cloaking every structure, every lofty daydream, every dared hope of humanity, tethered to the scourge of physical death, the giant risks taken despite the lightless abyss of failure and then extinction.  True, a new year, yet still the same onerous quagmire of countries fighting for more power, conflicts over greed

Since the earliest beginnings of human experience, the practice of chanting, known thru many traditions and histories, is there a common thread that ties all?  Thinking of the great mantras, Hare Rama, Hallelujah, Allahu Akbar, Baruch atah Adonai, Om Mani Padme Hum, Hail Mary, many more, each a meditation, all recited in rhythmic pulses of breath and depth of devoted emotion. Chanting that numbers respiration, paces introspection thru humble reflection, body and mind together imagine a sheer immenseness of cosmos, the constant praise of creation's expanding space, the measured meter and cadence of the dumbfounded spirit, the elusive realms, the new electricity of quantum promise and wonder. The mantras and chants of humanity- from Gregorian to Tibetan- all may invoke the various names and faces of God.  But, what doesn't change is the intrinsic, mortal need for a grounding to something greater, a centering and focusing that chanting brings in tones of harmonious reconnection. h

Agnostic prayer. Two words you don't expect to see side by side. Is it possible? No doubt, a subject for debate, but not here, not now. It's simply the phenomena of my reality. Why?  Difficult to describe.  There are only three things: facts, faith, and mystery. Said another way- what I know is true, what I believe is true, and what remains unknown to me. Is there a fourth? Whether God exists remains a mystery to me, and science, and humankind. Either true, or wishful thinking by fearful mortals facing death, nobody knows with certainty.  In fact, no certainty to existence. Only know what I hope to be true, a just God running the Universe. Good and evil in constant battle. Creation and destruction ongoing.  But, this speculation hardly helps the urge of prayer and reflection as a natural behavior of healing. Reluctantly agnostic, short of any tangible proof, I'm still inclined to pray, with only a humbling sense of smallness amidst the vast cosmos of common experience.  Unk

What is just beyond the next walkway? Or, just beyond the next falling sun? What is just beyond the next expectation, the next corner to turn, just beyond the next step, just beyond a preview, what is it all coming to, what will we see? What is there just beyond you and me?

There is truth deemed universal, and truth deemed only transitory. The intrinsic problem about "Truth": there must still be an interpreter of the sacred words, Scripture, and language meaning. We are all personal interpreters. Ascribing specific references to commonly read words- that's how truth becomes relative to the teller, and to the different minds comprehending, striving to know.

Allegory: if I am a boat's skipper, do I care what color my anchor might be? Do I care if it's forged from this iron or that steel? Do I care that it's a traditional hook shape, or something else entirely? What does a skipper need from an anchor? That it works. Securely tied off, heavy enough, and instantly available. If I am a mortal navigating life from day-to-day, from where do I draw my strength to continue thru the difficult and worse days? What do I need from my faith? That it works. That it's tied off by my intrinsic cords of personal values, the eternally tethered connection: 10 Commandments, Golden Rule, Four Noble Truths, all work to anchor my character, temper my passion, and tame my worst or most selfish tendencies. Differences or similarities, narrow or wide lanes of beliefs, stories, narratives, interpretations, translations, or claims to exclusively correct knowledge thru Scriptural defining- all of these less important distinctions are as the various

Many may challenge the notion, it's understood. It confounds all the established beliefs, the variously pointed paths of faith. But, for me, there is a glorious, nameless majesty, a royally unreligous crown of mystery which represents the limitless, universal experience, constantly whirling matrix of questions far beyond a horizon of knowledge. There is, to me, a beauty most viscerally felt in this mystery, unequaled by any human story of imaginative gods and devils and mortals with living souls. There is this drive within to know the real fabric or algorithm or equation or Scripture or vision or truth reveal without doubt, rendering faith obsolete or unnecessary- but then, where to go for our strength? Would knowing more be a new source? We cannot ever know enough to then leap out of our ego's mirror, so is the desire to know itself a trap? Consciousness at its core query,  the silent, enduring grandeur of our common existance, the way nothing is ever answered forever, all

The countless lives behind windows, every one so anonymous and precious, immersed in stories uniquely drawn, unknown by their window frames alone, the spectrum of mortal experience played out in rooms full of days and years, unscripted moments in-between, Venetian blind shadows of indoor souls going about their sundry routines, unspoken rituals of identity and relationship, or the windows that hide the horrors of private hells, or cursed prisons of gloom, nightmares the neighbors hear and ignore, or the sobbing child, crouched and trembling in the dark corner, or the wife's face burning with shame from a fresh and angry slap, or the massively silent, glacial pain of loneliness, windows of the heart forever nailed shut, or those empty windows that reveal nothing at all to passersby, to an outside world too Tick-Tocked to care anyway, or cracked windows of brutal negligence, quiet terrors, subtle tortures of circumstance, or the dusty windows on the sides of buildings of wasted dream

Spread evenly, roots to leaves. Pholem, xylem, and cambium. Hope, loyalty, and perseverance. Just as the dead heartwood  within the tree is protected by  only a few thin layers of living  fibers, and the tree is kept alive- So is the soul's earliest pain  protected  from mortal futility by  the irrepressible hopefulness of  purpose- memory dims the rest.  

Perhaps, it's understandably upsetting for some to consider: although far more cerebrally evolved, we are still just animals. More specifically, mammals, homo-sapien mammals. Simply stated, we are apes, human apes. So, does this answer all possible questions? Not at all, and only creates even more mystery, more questions to answer and connect to a remarkably greater picture of our partially discernable life and world. I hear my many friends of faith saying some version of "Hold on, science explains very little. What about God's plan thru the Word,  unsaved souls vs. eternity, the coming final victory over evil?" Well, this is one ape who wouldn't disagree, I'd welcome such a victory, thru any means or reality. Yet, have long suspected but with no persuasive evidence, just a natural hunch: loyal faith and dogmatic science may not ever intersect anywhere, but instead both represent opposite parallel universes of endless numerical varience and possibility. E

It's difficult to remember to take the extra moment to consider what may be possible, often something unlikely. But it can also be something typical. Simple example is the horn on your steering wheel, how you realize too late it's a senior you just startled. Awareness has a brief half-life. Remember phone booths? Of course not. One day, banged on the glass, in a hurry to make my call. Who else turns around but Milton Berle, holding up an index finger to my young impatience. No less the quick fool, the ego leads like a bumbling clown stumbled out of the tiny car, first of dozens to follow. Everyone included in that old stunt. Difficult to remember how moments define the mood, attitude lights the candle, patience sets the best table. Who pauses anymore to raise a glass?

If I were a ponderous purple onion, you could peel to my core, finding nothing new or more, nothing terrible, nor wondrous.  If I were a child's wooden train, I'd turn back around sixty years again, remembering it from the smoke and sounds it never made.  If I were a darkened alley past midnight, staying out of helicopter light, no shadows to trust beyond those that move too fast.  Somehow our sun keeps its secrets burning on, while trillions of black holes draw in the churning dust from every ancient universe. The background glow still seen, tracking each of us from within, no one may know their destiny's way, nor that fateful final day. When, out goes  the light in a rude bum's rush, a moment then gone, stars colluding in their solitude, nothing personal, all along.

Did God also make my impetuous curiosity, my persistantly earnest questioning? My mulling over all that I learn about or experience? Or, is my mystery over Creation and the cosmos just another fanciful distraction from simply sensing the answers to all my questions, rather than thinking my way to some perceived conclusion? Perhaps all matters of faith revolve in rarified realms well beyond mundane musings of the mind's aimless meanderings. So, is the human brain an utterly useless machine to calibrate the Mind of God? Should I suspect and temper my curious spirit, rather than trust it's also a God-made characteristic, an inherently positive blessing? Or, a burdened curse to lead me astray?

For all humankind's wondering, and wandering, and seeking, and questioning, and yearning, the Scriptures describe a Mind that is unapproachable by mortal efforts, but rather thru faith, acceptance, and a resolute choice to believe all that is beyond the rational  mathematics of reason and logic. But the mystery-bound paradox also remains illusive of clarity, as the Most High also made the human brain, our intrinsic instrument of comprehension.

(Five Haiku @ 65) Busy spouse, teen son Three strangers all summer long Each in our shadow. The days lounge but weeks Go faster, winter coming  soon, while months whiz by. Who wants to ponder Over distortions of time With so little left? One day in rehab Father asked: "how'd I get here?" He knew. Year by year. So, good to be here  Or anywhere these late days Storms not far away.

This, to me, is incomplete. As I define his statement, he meant other humans. I doubt the Buddha would disagree: seeking strength or comfort from a source of faith, from a Higher Power than myself, although a permanent mystery for this life, is worthy.

We're all seasonal items. Don't mean to be morbid or foreboding, just a thought that re-plays in some form probably daily, in the market, driving around, or at home, a certain awareness, or recalling. Just strikes me starkly some days, how we're here one moment, and then we're not here, ever again as far as we know, not much. Dandelions, blown into wind. At this season of life, the invisible follower just a silent step behind, ready when absolutely necessary but not before, irrelevent now, patient to wait. Remember to be right here, wherever that is, the moment I'm in, leave the future-past where they are, no conflating all three. A season begun in a sunrise inkling, a horizon breaking into a wink of day, as if it's all happened a trillion times before. Later is sooner now, wheels turning slower, more certain, seasons rushing for reasons both common and rare.

The specific understanding (as Jesus of Nazareth himself described it), narrow and unswerving- that every single letter, even "one jot or one tittle..", of the Scripture is divinely scribed, is a strict, inflexible view. Yet, unwavering doesn't at all mean inaccurate- every detail of this literal understanding may be precisely correct- no one knows. That's when choosing to believe becomes all-important, bound by faith, commitment, conviction. But this understanding is "all or nothing", by rational construct. Either God created the Heavens and Earth, and humankind is on a Messianic path, and Jesus born to the Christ and Trinity, who died on the Cross but beat death by the Resurrection, and who will return again to save the world from evil's destruction, all of it- unparsed, undivided by mere mortal reasoning or trivial intellectual debate, accepting and embracing ALL of it, the entire understanding- or then, nothing. You have nothing. No soul, no im

We're inclined to reason and common sense, by divine design. In the end, we believe what rings true for each of us.

"Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness."  James 3:18 Disciple J ames speaks boldly about the higher standard for teachers, and how none speak perfectly. So, all must be wary of the power of the tongue, the destructive sin of irresponsible speech, how it can easily harm. In the larger context, James also speaks of two truths: one verifies a person's character thru deeds, righteous actions that help and uplift those most in urgent need. But the actions must be with pure heart, free of humankind's evils. The other truth comes only from the wisdom of Heaven's grace, and God's purest love for us, always impartial and sincere. For me, it's as close as the daily interactions with others, the opportunities to be peaceful, lead more often with my better nature.

The Bible's books, Old and New, are rich with scriptural questions, avenues for thought, wonder, and the challenge of sacred mystery. Hebrews is an elegant and eloquently composed epistle establishing Jesus as Christ and King over Christianity, the Trinity realized, the Messianic promise fulfilled, for humankind's grace and redemption for all eternity. Most Christians don't question Hebrews author as being Paul, the Pharisee disciple. But, there's some intrigue. Was this letter written by Paul, after all? A few inconsistencies emerge that seem historically incongruent. First, there is no salutation at the start, as with every other Paul authorship to the earliest Church. The reference "To the Hebrews" appears in the earliest known copy, but it's not in the original manuscript. Odd. Even more puzzling, some read the letter's style as sounding very different from the other epistles, both in complexity of language and words used, tonal qualities, an