This began as a project aimed to achieve the exact opposite effect of a blog. The intention was to create something tangible, concrete. Instead I have ended the beginnings. The journal has transformed. A blog is born. I’m not too sure where this will go, or what my goal is in creating a lasting digital time suck that links me further into the social hive mind that is my generation. I can promise thought, consideration, ramblings, and views stated that will change when my friends challenge me on them. I cannot promise originality, or anything that anyone hasn’t seen before. I am just another being, with another experience, another perspective, another agenda in the same running plot line that is our lives. I am just another take on a much larger story. The same story that everyone shares, though everyone recounts differently. Mine is not yet finished. Here is where I will begin, though it started twenty two years ago. Consider this:
in medias res.
The beginning is always the most difficult. First impressions, introductions. The little nuances that your close friends mention that you attempt to mask. Nothing some
dog food Timbits won’t smooth over. In all sincerity, Timbits are terrible. They are the fruiting result of an experimental cross pollination between wheat and sugar cane. Tim Hortons is terrible. I will probably go to Canadian hell for that. For the purpose of understanding and timeline, I am waiting for a plane to take me to Israel for a travel study.
It is hard to comprehend the obstacles that early travelers had to overcome. Months on tortured seas, sickness and disease, the very likely possibility that the last time you hugged your mother could indeed be the last. It is hard to comprehend this when your flying through in a cushioned seat that recline and unlimited alcoholic beverages to ease your concerns about falling out of the sky at a million miles per second – per second. The amazing thing about modern travel – truly amazing – is that people, rational human beings that can comprehend death, birth, and love, put their faith in an overweight flying tuna can careening across the worlds largest body of water for twelve hours at one time. Amazing.
Have you ever witnessed somebodies first swim in an ocean, in a sea? It is beyond words. Becky went swimming, and everyone around her flew.
Growing up hearing the story of Adam and Eve, I couldn’t help but lie in disbelief on behalf of original sin. Who would disobey, furthermore who would disobey God’s command? And for what? Knowledge. Then it seemed asinine. Now I see that the sacrifice was worth it. I would rather know then live a life of naivety. It appears that every generation has their Adams and Eves, attempting to get back to the garden where they don’t have to know anything. Knowledge is knowing suffering, pain and heartbreak. Knowledge is death and sickness. Knowledge is terrifying. No one wants to know that there is famine. That thousands of people die on the whim of war hawks. No one wants to know that God might not even be watching. Listening. Caring. That there may not even be a God. So we burry our heads in the sands of entertainment. We choose not to know. We gorge ourselves and ignore the hunger pains of those in need. The “american dream” is akin to Eden. The lawn is always perfect, the animals don’t shit on it, sickness is overcome [death close to follow], and the fridge is always stocked full. We have our own private gardens and we are our own gods. I can’t imagine living this way. The only reason I live is to know. I need to know. Why?
“… what are these and who put them here?”
“…We don’t know.”
There aren’t enough words say about Cameron, yet I’m at a loss. There is far more to a man then one will ever understand. Strangers in a bed.
These photo’s were taken at the Sea of Galilea. As somebody who hasn’t identified themselves as Christian for quite some time, I can honestly say that I have never felt that in tune with the figure of Jesus Christ than I did when walking down to the water from the Church of the Beatitudes. An interesting perspective about Jesus’ sermon on the mount is that it was given in the hills for good reason. Rebels congregated in the hills. Jesus was a criminal. He spoke to criminals. I felt something speak to me.