Current Status: High...

An expression of my emotions and feelings... foreshadowed by creation.
On the journey home... to news proclaiming His provision.

Signs of Intelligence

I walk briskly down the trail. To my left the dense undergrowth and trees separate me from the railroad tracks that run parallel. To my right I catch glimpses of the setting sun reflecting from the ocean's surface through the trees scattered about the steep embankment that leads down to the the shore. High tide has forced the calm water of the inlet as far as it can, right up to the bottom of this natural wall. The overgrown underbrush passively scratches my bare legs as I duck under the giant trunk of an arbutus tree as it reaches horizontally across the path towards the sunlight. Then, to my right, down at the water's edge below I hear it.

It's a gentle and steady striking noise, almost like a drum being hit in time. It's deliberate, the sound of something or someone working purposefully towards some goal or end. I crane my neck, looking down the slope to find the source. There is a path down through the trees to the beach. I imagine a gull or a crow below, repeatedly striking a clam against a rock or piece of driftwood, trying to get at the meat within. Maybe it's geese, I've seen them here before, a whole family in fact, though I think the little ones would be almost fully gown by now. I imagine it might be a person, doing God knows what.

I make my way carefully down toward the water, careful not to frighten off the mysterious percussionist. I stop partway down, and try to see if I can see from there what I seek to see. I hesitate; should I turn back and continue on my way down the path? I'm nervous it might be a person. Nervous that I might stumble out of the trees onto the little remaining beach only to be face to face with him, staring stupidly, possibly disrupting him in his bout for peace and sanctuary. I like to avoid such human contact, it's awkward. But the rhythmic call of the sound beckons me onward.

I make my way onto the small patch of grass that lines very edge of the beach. I look over to my right. I see nothing. Yet the sound continues. I look around desperately. Maybe it's farther down the beach than I thought?

Then I see it. The water gently laps against a small log, no more than three or four feet long and about five inches in diameter. Repeatedly, consistently, the water forces the log up against the sand and rocks.

Thump... Thump... Thump...

The waves beat the log in time with my sinking heart as disappointment settles in. All this time seeking the truth, hoping to find something, someone, and I have come up short. There is nothing there. No creative drummer, no persistent intelligent labourer, nothing, only the mindless, repetitive surge of the ocean. I'd read to much into what I heard. I'd taken what little information had been ascertained by my senses and extrapolated it into things, creatures, or people that were never there. I'd clambered down the narrow path through the trees, stepping out into the open, only to find I'll never discover what I've been searching, waiting, hoping for, because it never existed, save for in my mind.


Then again... maybe not... Do things cease to exist simply because I can not see them? Surely this creature never existed, but does that mean there is nothing there in the methodical movement of the ocean as it beats its drum along with the rest of the Creation Symphony? I heard the song, and while I sought to find a musician on the sands below, instead I found an instrument, diligently playing its part. I came looking for the workings of something of this world, but now come away reminded of the work of something out of this world.

Sombrio Beach and Juan de Fuca Trail

Instruments of Creation

I sit silently behind the old log. Washed up on the shores of the beach by waves of unimaginable might years ago. I sit listening. Listening to the water gently lapping the shore. Listening to the robin flitting through the salal and salmon berry bushes. Listening to the flies chasing one another about my head. Listening for God. I wait attentively, meditating, praying for His fellowship.

But I'm distracted. I scratch a mosquito bite (one of many) on my arm. What's the point of such things? They are a nuisance we should have done away with years ago, purged from this earth. Insignificant little vermin they are. Useless and pointless, their high pitched whine torments us. Why do such things exist?

I remember taking band in high school. When first learning a piece of music we'd gloss over the finer details-- the changes in dynamics, a Glissando or a Sforzando or a Trill, Legato or Staccato. We merely played each note. All other things seemed insignificant. To our developing musical skills, they were an unimportant annoyance.

But as we got better at playing the notes, we began to add in all these little "annoyances." Slowly the song would grow in richness and beauty. What we once thought no one would miss, now added a whole new depth to the piece.

In the same way, the mosquito is like this. It may seem pointless and useless. But when played in the Grand Orchestra of God's creation, they add to the beauty and depth of God's Symphony. We may feel like no one would miss them if they aren't there, but abolish them from the earth and, like that note sans Sforzando, everything becomes a little bit dull and boring.

And what about those nasty bites? Surely God could have done away with that nasty trait long ago in the evolutionary time line? But then, the female mosquito must consume blood to reproduce.

I look down at my arm again, the ghastly bites covering it. I no longer view myself as a victim. I am in communion with God's creation. I am not apart from the rest of Creation, but a part of it. It's not me versus the elements, but me with them. From each bite God will lovingly mold hundreds of new mosquito larvae, each one significant in His eyes.

To think that God would use us in such a way. That our bodies could be so instrumental in bringing forth a wonderful part of his Grand Creation Symphony. We are all part of God's Orchestra, and by playing together, not as individual instruments or parts or even notes, but as one, our lives and roles on this planet, no matter how insignificant they may seem, weaving about one another under the direction of the Great Conductor, we can make truly beautiful music. Kind of makes the itching seem a little insignificant doesn't it?

Swan Sea

Light the way to thee,
I'm lost upon the sea,
light the way to thee.

Bring me to your shore,
where I will hurt no more,
light the way to thee.

I wanna sail on to you.
Follow you down.
Carry my broken frame
from this saddest shore.

I'm begging darling, please,
crawling on my knees,
light the way to thee.

I've sang this song before,
broken, on a troubled shore,
light the way to thee.

I wanna sail on to you.
Follow you down.
Carry my broken frame
from this saddest shore.

Light the way to thee,
I'm lost upon this sea,
light the way to thee.

I'm begging for your shore,
where I will hurt no more.
Light the way to thee.

I wanna sail on to you.
Follow you down.
Carry my broken frame
from this saddest shore.

On the Swan Sea ,
from the saddest shore
On the Swan Sea,
from the saddest shore,

I sang this song before.
I sang this song before,
on the Swan Sea ,
from the saddest… the saddest shore

~The Violet Burning

Log...muscles....chain

Words of Encouragement (and an unrelated photo)

That moment of quite uncertainty,

Of fearful anticipation

As your world comes falling in on you.

You fear the end,

The end of your dreams,

Your hopes,

The life you've laid out for yourself,

The life you love.

But do not fear.

As the Angel said to Mary,

"Do not be afraid."

Remember that He loves you.

That whatever may befall you in this life,

He will be there,

To guide you,

To lead you,

Down the path you were meant to tread,

Sometimes through cold mountain passes

Or dense inescapable forests.

But do not fear,

For beyond lies hope.

A cool spring in an empty desert.

Like the beautiful vista from a top a mountain,

He promises you His love,

His ever present hand guides you

Up the endless rock face.

That you may one day reach the summit,

And peer out above the world in awe of His majesty.

That you may look back along the paths you trod.

The paths you trod alone.

The paths you trod at His side.

In His arms,

Or dragged kicking and screaming.

That you may look back on the paths you trod...

And laugh.

Laugh that you ever found such things hard or difficult,

Or impossible.

For every time you made your own path

Every time you were lost or alone

He was there.

He is always here...

More Photos

Mostly Water-ee Type Photos

Precipitous Phobic Pondering

I love the rain. It's cool, refreshing, and brilliant fun to be out in on a miserable afternoon. I'm sure more than a few people thought me strange the other day; seeing me out in the pouring rain with neither hood nor umbrella, not bothering to circumvent the puddles in my path, opting instead to traverse right through them, stopping on occasion in the smaller ones to make a big splash.

I've never understood why people hate the rain. After all, it's only water. We drink it, are bodies are mostly made of it, we'll even jump from great heights into large bodies of it. Yet we fear a few drops falling from the sky?

"Oh, but it makes everything feel miserable," people will say. But of course it will if you spend all day cooped up inside, afraid to go out, lest you get a bit wet. It's not the rain that makes us miserable, it's our unwillingness to do anything when it's around.

And when we do go outside, we bundle up. We throw on layers of extra clothing, and pull out a massive umbrella. Are we so afraid of a little refreshing water, that we need to shield our entire bodies from its aerial onslaught. Granted one might get sick from being out too long and getting too wet, but don't let that stop you from experiencing such a wonderful gift.

I believe the reason we get sick, is because of all the evil in the world. But why should we have to fear what is good, because sin has tainted it? We are afraid to experience the harmless, even beautiful and wonderful things God has given us, because our own sin might cause something bad to happen to us.

So I say, "So what if I get a little sick." What some may view as a battle, I view as training; strengthening my body against the harshness of our environment. I'm not going to subscribe to the devils fear tactics; I will not hide and shield myself from the good things of this world because he has left his mark on them. Should we avoid art and photography because of playboy. Should we never watch movies, or TV, or listen to music because of Pornography, Reality TV, and (c)rap "music." Just because so much shit has begun to permeate into the good things of this world, does not mean we should avoid those things outright. Instead we should seek to reclaim them; salvage the good back from these gifts God has given us.

Maybe if we all took the time to enjoy the rain, splash in a few puddles, and get a bit wet, we'd see that there really is nothing to fear. God gave us the rain, let's enjoy it.