"i used to feel those guardian angels in the skies; but those angels have become like ghosts before my eyes; and every line of every song i thought i knew; has left me standing empty and cold without a clue; here in the dark...," from a new composition called "faith in the dark" by me

existing in what seems to be a wisdom-less state is akin to being severely fastened with a shoddy rope to a scratchy pole. after a few attempts to dislodge my soul from this "paradise"; some attempts pathetically haphazard, others positively herculean; it feels best for me to just stand for a while. any more struggling while in this disgraceful condition known as "beyond my wit's end", and i will metamorphose into a monster akin to the incredible hulk's twin sister. today i connect with the biblical ranting of a faithful yet flawed man called job (especially in these scriptures: job 10:18-22 and job 12:13-25). job's story gives me some hope and comfort because here's a guy who hardly ever did anything wrong, and yet lost everything in a God-initiated avalanche of affliction. talk about "why do bad things happen to good people", here's an extremely prime example. so as my inquiring mind tapdances along with my fingers across this keyboard, i ponder the fate of the longsuffering mr. job, the fate of our peace-deprived world, and the fate of me--both longsuffering and peace-deprived. and like those big words flashing on the screen during those old batman tv shows (zowie!), three letters from this keyboard fly across the path of my oppressed but still sparkly eyeballs. L. A. B. which further expand out to the words Learning, Affirming, and Breathing. contorted upon an aged and jagged pole seems like an unlikely location for any of those three words to be accomplished with any degree of excellence. but here i stand in wisdom-less stillness, LEARNING how to learn, AFFIRMING my own need for affirmation, and BREATHING the succulent force that keeps me and the world turning, the potently anonymous power we call breath. so what? what good is esoteric rhetoric to a soul on a pole? "be still and know that I am God...silence is golden...stop and smell the roses...let go and let God...," and all those annoyingly applicable axioms intermittently stream across my consciousness like rolling horizontal internet broadcasts. yet today only three words stick. a "soul pole" moment is indeed a LAB, a place of experimentation and education, where i LEARN (as reluctance gives way to relief), i AFFIRM (as self-pity gives way to serenity--i mean the kind that is nitty-gritty rooted in the trenches of firsthand weedpruning, not the namby-pamby vacant sloganeering of certain industries of "deep thoughts with Jack Handey" pap crap), and finally i BREATHE, as toxicity gives way to truth, and a silent song emerges with lyrics like: relax, you're ok, you're a mess but you're my child, and you're ok, because i'm in control of this, not you. today in all your soul pole LABs (because after all, every single one of us experiences these sanctuaries of suffering in some form on a daily basis), i wish you learning, affirming, and breathing. i am so weird! and so is my weird ranting! God, I pray that you will make sense of these thoughts and feelings for the healing of hurting hearts, including my own, so that even in the dark places, we will hold on to our faith, and steadfastly refuse to let go.

and once again, this melancholy baby ruefully identifies with today's weather...the startling annoyance of the April snowstorm. driving in the treacherously transformed traffic flow, my life's tv screen has suddenly switched from technicolor to black, white, and murky grey. but even in this i find a fascination. the few colors surviving the burial pop out at me with increased impact, like the little girl's red coat in Schindler's List. and so it is with this season of my life. yuck, i'm annoyed that i used that melodramatic "life season" cliche, but alas, it stands as rock solid truth. anyway, i am gently lifted above the encouragement waterline when i remember that, yes, there are colors that have popped out in this "bliss disguised as blizzard" time. faith flashes, spirit slivers, and tiny bright blossoms of unflinching love perking up from the slushy ground below my trudging begrudging feet. but even amid this winter blunderland, i saw the forecast. it said 60 degrees by the weekend, which seems like an eternity from monday, but a hop, skip, and jump in the context of the whole space-time continuum. so it won't last, and it is melting even as we speak. simply put, i can handle it. this startling annoyance of trauma and tragedy. it's do-able, and i am doing it like a good old heartland tough broad, who is tempered year after blustery year with these events, yet instinctively reacts to them like it's impossible, uncope-able, shockwavy virgin territory. please may i just once get it through my head, "in this world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, i have overcome the world," says Jesus, the One I've supposedly given my life to, and the Reliable One I supposedly trust wholeheartedly. yes, April snowstorms happen, and i am surprised by non-joy. but i can handle it, i MUST handle it. as my world turns, may the days of my life be ruled by The Guiding Light who reminds me of how bold and beautiful i am meant to be--in the midst of it all, rain, snow, sleet, or hail. spiritually speaking, how we deal with the WEATHER determines WHETHER or not we thrive. this strong-willed Iowa climate continually teaches us the lesson of the great jazz composer Fats Waller: "one never knows, do one." so it is best to keep our snow stamina and strategy as handy as the Burt's Bees Lip Balm under the dashboard. i leave you with musings from a new millenium would-be theologian from a certain paisley park: "sometimes it snows in April, sometimes i feel so bad, sometimes i wish life was never ending, but all good things, they say, will pass." sounds like the artist currently known as prince is a melancholy baby like me.