(Tell me it’s a joke.)

dwelling in possibility

October 5, 2008

Had a great conversation with one of my roommates this evening.  We were discussing the need to embrace limitations and our own finitude, in order to walk in the way of wisdom.  My roommate made the observation that, Emily Dickinson (that poetic genius who “dwelt in possibility“) spent most of her fifty-six years living and breathing in one (same) home.

My roommate went on to tell of an exhortation she heard several years ago during a high school commencement speech: Live Poetically.  Poems, she reminded, best showcase their themes through the distillation of thoughts, ideas, feelings …

What might it mean for us to embrace limitations (in commitments, in relationships … in our daily activities), in order to live poetically?

I’m committing anew to the question …

m-i-a no mo’

September 9, 2008

Yes, it’s been awhile.

No, I wasn’t kidnapped.  No, I didn’t elope.  No, I haven’t fled the country to escape political rhetoric.  (Even if — I confess — I’ve been indulging in a bit of levity while wrestling with “the issues” and assessing this political campaign.)

Short-story long?

I moved (sort of) the last weekend of July, only to pack up again and travel for 10 days during the first part of August upon which, returning to KC (buried alive under a pile of work & correspondence) I proceeded to host out-of-town family for a long weekend of fun up until we joined together for travel to Des Moines (where I reunited with long-lost cousins), then returned back to KC (buried alive under a pile of work & correspondence) in order to launch (kind of) the start of (yet another) ministry year which meant working long hours and returning late in the evening to my (quasi) new home until a week ago when I hired two (very mediocre) men and a truck to (try to) help me move-in and damage personal belongings & valuables such that I was free to spend the next few days holed up in my (newly established) home organizing all my stuff in order to justify an entire “girls day out” with my (very pregnant) sis so we could have some fun together before (lo and behold) my beautiful (perfectly healthy, seemingly perfect) new nephew — Samuel David — arrived (nearly three weeks early!) onto the scene of this wide world such that all I could do was to dote and feel my heart swell until I remembered and (then) was forced to begin (again) the more menial (and, yes, necessary) task of arranging things in my home and life so as to create some semblance of order (in no particular order).  Order like knives in the kitchen.  Toilet paper in the bathroom.  Wireless on the router.  At which point, having all such matters utterly & totally resolved (yesterday evening), I decided it might be okay to start blogging again.

For those who may have found my long short-story less than compelling (or for those who just couldn’t stomach the whole thing): I conclude (in terrible literary-style) with (once again) the most important point …

Samuel David Majernik.  6 lbs.  1 oz.  Just after noon on September 2, 2008.

I’m back to “heart swelling” …

The reformer is always right about what is wrong.  He is generally wrong about what is right.

Chesterton (with thanks to Rustin)

Robyn Okrant is living Oprah.  (Wow.)

gym sin

June 10, 2008

Such transgression sorta make my gold-card gym membership a little less impressive.  (Who knew?)