I thought this was brilliant:
"Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge."
The Saints are the Super Bowl XLIV champions after a hard won contest against the Indianapolis Colts. The dream comes alive on Bourbon Street and Mardi Gras comes early!
"Be still, and know that I am God." It's a zen-like call to let your heart be a place of peace in the midst of difficulties. Rather than a exhortation to abandon action, it's an invitation to witness the glory of God with an untroubled heart. The idea reminds me of the existential calm of Juliette Binoche's character Julie in the film Blue after she learns of the infidelity of her recently deceased husband. With a gentle resolve she moves into the next chapter of her life. The pool scene in particular works as a symbol of her transformation; as she quietly moves through the resistance of the water, buoyed by grace and skill, the idea of a womb or a baptism comes to mind with connotations of rebirth or renewal. Psalm 46:10 is a call to this kind of existential calm while offering an escape from the theater of the absurd. Be still, and know that I am God. The only question is can we be still.
Super Bowl XLIV is tomorrow, 6:30 PM ET! Booha!
I'm cheering for the lesser of two evils, which in my world means rooting for the Colts. I was really not impressed by the sportsmanship of the Saints in their match-up with the Vikings. Go get'em! Unleash Peyton Manning and let's get this thing started.
Game day is the opportunity for unrestricted dietary mayhem in the Jephnol household! I went off the reservation a wee bit this morning dining out with some friends, but the serious celebration begins tomorrow afternoon. I'm making dangerous nachos for the early afternoon and during the game we'll be having toasted sausage subs with Swiss cheese, caramelized onions, sauteed shiitake mushrooms and horseradish sauce. And of course beer. Mmmm, beer....
Tonight I got back on course after this mornings culinary hiccup. Check this pre-debauchery health food repast:
1 cup nonfat plain yogurt
1 tablespoon all fruit Blue Berry jam
1 tablespoon wheat germ
2 slices whole grain wheat toast
1 medium sized navel orange
1 cup raw baby spinach
1/2 cup baby carrots
1/2 cup grape tomatoes
1/2 orange bell pepper
1 cup raw green beans
Okay, that sounds like something a horse would eat, but my body is loving this food. And the yogurt mixed with the wheat germ and jam rocks. Anyway, it's like I said, Sunday's coming. It looks like a real match-up between the Colts and the Saints and I expect I'll get all my exercise from jumping up and down while I'm screaming at the TV. Let's get it on!
Pfc. Marc Paul Decoteau: Killed in action in Afghanistan.
My condolences go out to the family and friends of Pfc. Decoteau and to the Waterville Valley community. Thank you for your sacrifice.
My skin is black, my arms are long
My hair is woolly, my back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain, inflicted again and again
What do they call me? My name is aunt Sarah
My name is aunt Sarah, aunt Sarah
My skin is yellow, my hair is long
Between two worlds I do belong
But my father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
And what do they call me?
My name is Saffronia, my name is Saffronia
My skin is tan, my hair fine
My hips invite you, my mouth like wine
Whose little girl am I? Anyone who has money to buy
What do they call me? My name is Sweet Thing
My name is Sweet Thing
My skin is brown, my manner is tough
I'll kill the first mother I see, my life has been rough
I'm awfully bitter these days, because my parents were slaves
What do they call me? My name is Peaches
Speaking with a friend today I ventured onto the topic of God and sin, and in my effort to articulate/confess my transgressions in the context of my perception of 'relationship' with God the whole affair became quite unintelligible and rather embarrassing. As an excuse for the failure to articulate my thoughts clearly I claimed to have been dropped on my head several times as a baby. Shame should have kicked in at this point but to reinforce my justification I pointed out that this fact shouldn't matter because he—my friend—wasn't too bright anyway. We got on famously after that as old friends do.
Well...thank God for old friends.
The spoken and the written word are close cousins to music my friends. All the jazz about triads and harmonic mechanisms is true in the more spiritual aspects of language as well. The moments that lift you up into the magic come when your words are extemporaneous and feel like holy waters pouring over your tongue. It's the uplifting force of call and response in an unsung tale of wonder. Hosanna! Released from formality, cascading and connected, framed in modulated tonalities, words tumble into existence like drops of water dancing on red hot metal. Yeah....
Grooveshark tunes make senseless blogging fun. I've got the Pat Metheny Group, Phase Dance lined up with Lady Gaga's Bad Romance and Morphine's Claire et al while I hit the keys.
This reminds me how I used to write while listening exclusively to the Pat Metheny Group. The idea was simple: One glass of Canadian Club, PMG and nothing but what I wrote. It was perfect. I might have to revive the tradition as I am unquestionably to the manner born.
Now does Grooveshark rock or what? Morphine is pouring Honey White into my head as I tap out these last few words. Outstanding!
I'm revamping the diet paradigm while I've got some time. Two books have been money for the job: SuperFoods Rx and The Nutrition Bible. I'm looking at the whole super foods idea as a foundation for packing nutrition into caloric restrictions. (I'm not sure how I feel about the micro-nutrient synergy thing but I'm not tossing the idea out, and beyond that the book makes some interesting assertions about our relationship with what we chew). The Nutrition Bible is just an alphabetical collection of no-nonsense nutrition information and wild claim debunking. I've pounded out the fundamentals of this new stew of dietary recalibration and now I'm working on cost control and lifestyle efficiency.
I know. I know. I live the rock and roll lifestyle.
Phoebe Nora Mary Prince. I read your story in the paper today. You left us here asking ourselves why when you were so young did you feel the need to leave so soon. But of course the story is old. I knew a girl, beautiful like you...the tale is the same. She hung herself in the shower. (It was her mother who's cruelty drove her to that place). All these years on it breaks my heart still. Today it's broken again. How I wish there was someone with you to tell you it would be okay, that tomorrow would be better...it's going to be better. Phoebe Nora Mary Prince, I wish you had chosen to stay.
Rest in peace.
I've been posting off and on about God. As I've adopted the idea that I'm in a relationship with God I thought I would just make a public confession of where I stand on the issue of the Deity.
My faith is quite simple these days. I'm familiar with many of the intellectual hurdles associated with Biblical Christianity and the questions that follow. I'm less involved in those issues now than I am with making a distinction between faith and action: I seek relationship with God, as an imperfect being, through grace, without struggling to reform my behavior. Call it therapy. I find when I come to God in prayer, accepting my forgiveness as a given, I am free to be who I am so completely as to be blown away by the emotional intensity of the encounter.
It means a lot to me.
