Thoughts: Driving

I drive a lot in my work. I run an office 3 and a half hours away in Washington DC and I am back and forth there all the time. This week was typical - I drive to PA Sunday, then to DC Monday, back here Wednesday night. That may seem crazy to some, but I've done it so long it seems normal.

And sometimes, very nice. It's fall here in the mountains and they are full of color. The skies at sunset are beautiful. On days like yesterday, driving is not a toil, but a blessing.

It's a blessing to be home too though, and sleep in my own bed, and rattle around in my own home. So I guess that makes it a blessing both ways!

Tom

PS - the pictures are from this week's driving. You can click on them for a larger version.

Info: Cool sites

This blog is about book design. Not the content, but the look of the book. Check it now and again and it's like taking a course in design!

Spaces Speak is from MIT, and it's about the architecture of sound. It's a book actually, fascinating to me, as a media engineer and a former sound guy. Several sample chapters are included here.

Voila is the first CD in a decade from Belinda Carlisle, former lead singer of the Go-Go's. Now though, it appears she is doing french cafe music, which is hard to find and which I have a huge weakness for.

Can we redefine the dictionary? Erin McKean thinks so. This is a fascinating lecture by a vibrant young mind.

Speaking of redefining, BMW is redefining the car. I am not kidding. Imagine a car with a "skin", not fenders, a skin that shifts shape, and when you get tired of the color, you can change. Interested? Check out this YouTube movie.

Fun, interesting stuff!

Tom

Poem: A Moment of Warmth

A Moment of Warmth

You cross the ridge to the farmhouse,
it's faded whitewash bright in the late afternoon sun.
You walk past the garden, dry and dead as November,
and stand at the fence,
where one thorny tendril drapes
and reaches sunward.

It has been a long journey,
rocky and cold, un mapped,
so uncertain that even now,
you are not certain that you have arrived

to your destination, or
if this is simply another way station.
but here, in the abandoned house,
there is protection from the night,
and a fireplace to warm your weary bones,
and in this moment,

an autumn sun brings color
to the world around you.

It is enough, this moment of warmth,
enough to remind you
that though there is no one here,
you are not alone.

========

The picture was taken at the Johnson Farm, in Bedford County, Virginia, near the Peaks of Otter. When I took it, I remember saying to myself "Some day I will write a poem about this picture". It's been a year and the poem finally arrived. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poetry: After a Week of Rain

After a Week of Rain

You are tired
of the darkness with it's blind cold
that seems to have no end;

Of looking in windows
with their fires and remembered warmth
that is no longer yours;

of unmarked paths
with deep unexpected ruts
crossed with the flotsam of constant storms.

You are tired
of autumn afternoons without the light of flowers
or the fragrant promise of honeysuckle mornings;

of the secret sniping of dark dwellers
who come out in the blackness of night
to nip unseen at your heels;

of hour after long hour
of trudging after a hope you cannot see,
but that is the only light you can imagine.

========

The picture is not one of mine, but actually came from the Time Magazine web site, a picture from Hurricane Ike this past season, but it caught the mood of the poem perfectly.

Tom

Wordless Wednesday

Poem: Standing in the Rain

Standing in the Rain

In a few short hours
you have seen the sky change
from a peaceful blue
to a red of fury,

watched and smelled the storm
as is flowed around the mountains
to the valley,
felt the wind rise

and swirl in anger,
and as others fled inside their homes,
you stood on the porch,
waiting out the storm,

letting it's anger flow past you,
it's thunder, the shock of lightening
that strikes the nearby tree
on the creek below your home,

feeling the rain,
blown sideways, drench you
as you stand, not watching the storm,
but living it

as it rips through the valley,
and subsides,
and in the same way,
you see the clouds blow past,

the wind calm,
the sky open,
and the freshness of that time after,
again, not watching it, but living it,

not a spectator,
but part of the drama,
wet, and hopeful, enjoying the freshness
in a new way, more real and more alive.

============

The picture was taken a couple of years ago, a few miles south of Fincastle. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Running at 7 AM

Running at 7 AM

You run alone,
in the clear October air,
unaware of the others
behind you who also run,
not in a race,
but to be there
should you fall.

========

The picture was taken yesterday at the Fincastle 5K run. You can click on the picture for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: A Seal Over My Heart

A Seal Over My Heart
(Song of Songs 8:6)

Let me hold you over my heart,
a soft embrace, a seal of my love
found only in the velvet touch
of love, stronger than death,

stronger than my deepest sins,
stronger than all our failings,
stronger than our humanity.

Let me hold you over my heart,
a protection from the world around us
that can only come together,
for we have proved the weakness of aloneness
well enough.

Let me hold you over my heart,
and find the courage to risk failure,
for the hope of a love
stronger than pain.

================

The reference verse was from my bible reading today. It reads "Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm, for love is as strong as death." The picture was taken in Las Vegas where I chanced on the couple shown.

Tom

Poem: October Flowers

October Flowers

The flowers in the market are bright
and lively, defying the cold autumn air,
like love, late in life,
reminding us that God brings color and beauty,
zest and passion,
in every season.

=========

The picture was taken at one of the stands of the Roanoke City Market. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Magical Green

Magical Green

You have aimed your camera upward
hundreds of times, upward
through the layers of leaves
with the sun filtering through
in a magical sunlit green
that you can never capture,

a product of the moment
that is beyond technology
or description,
God's gift,
just for you,
and only for the moment.
You snap in vain,
but it does not matter,

for in his generosity,
he fills our lives with moments of beauty,
one after another,
all around us,
not to be captured,
but to be treasured.

===============

I have been trying to capture a certain color of sunlight green for years with my camera. The photo about is about as close as I have actually come, and believe me when I say, it is not close to the real thing. It's like the holy grail for me and my camera, unobtainable, yet within my grasp, and thinking on that... came this poem. You can click on the picture for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Thoughts from a Vegetable Stand

Thoughts from a Vegetable Stand

You reach out
to touch the beans,
so brightly colored
you are not quite certain
they are real,

until you look close
and see the dirt
lodged in the tiny
wrinkles, dirt
that in no way

diminishes their beauty,
but only enhances it,
like the flaws
in each heart
that do not make us worse,
merely human.

-----------------

I went to the Roanoke Farmer's market earlier today, where I took this picture, and which inspired this poem. You can click on the picture for a larger version.

Tom

Poetry: Love

Love

So like the sky,
it is unpredictable,
sometimes roiling with stormy passion,
sometimes still with peace,
or gray and forbidding,
or dancing with color,

but always there,
always changing,
alive -
a presence over all
that covers our horizons
and draws us upward
in wonder.

-----------

The picture is from outside my apartment, an early morning sky. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Unshackled

Unshackled

The iron rings lay on the table,
lit by the dim light of a rainy day,
no longer formidible or binding,
but broken

like the bonds of your heart,
the chains that have held your life
in thrall for a lifetime, but
one by one

have been chiseled away, opened,
falling off link by link,
until, like the iron rings in front of you,
they are no longer chains, but history.

===========

The picture was taken at the ironsmith's shop in Mystic Seaport, CT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Quote of the Week -

"Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison, and expecting the other person to die" - Unknown

Since 1991, I have put a "quote of the week" at the end of my e-mails. Often people ask me if I can pull up this quote or another and generally, I can't. So I decided to begin posting my quote of the week here on my blog. If you want to see a list of them, just hit the "quotes" tag to the right and they should all come up for you to view.

The picture is from Paint Bank, Va. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Information - A unique prayer journal

I liked this article from the Christianity Today web site about a unique and creative prayer journal.

Poem: The Next Step You Take

The Next Step You Take

Your strength is not your own.
It never was, despite your imaginings,

coming instead
from those you have leaned on,
or worshiped;

by the choices that defined you
for good and ill, choices
that need not define you
any longer.

So step.
Choose again.

Choose wisely,
and live not as a journey,
but a dance.

=======

The pictures of of the D&H Trail, on an abandoned train track near Rupert, Vt. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Pictures

I went to a church picnic yesterday with my kids and snapped some pictures of the people there. The collection of faces and expressions, and the people they represent are a good reminder of what's good in our country and our world, and are something to remember when we are seeing all the bad news in the newspaper and television. People like these are at the heart of what's good in our country.

You can click on the pictures for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: On Noticing

On Noticing

You shrug away
the compliment
like shooing a gnat
on a summer's evening,
unaware

of the secret I know,
that God, who takes such care
in the creation of constant beauty,
has blessed me in particular,
with yours.

Stealing as Missionary Work

I have a bad habit of leaving my car unlocked when I am running errands. My head knows people steal things, even in a rural community like mine, but I forget when I am running around. Today as I ran to get some office supplies, I ran inside to pick up a couple of things and five minutes later I came back out and someone had been in my car and gone through it. Fortunately I don't keep much of anything IN my car, so all they got was a 3 CD set of worship and praise music, and two CD's that had sermons on them from my church.

The same thing happened about 18 months ago while I was on a mission trip in Appalachia, when someone rummaged through my car and took off, again with some Worship and Praise CD's, one Jackson Brown CD, and my travel bible.

I guess I should be upset, but as I drove home, I had to laugh. Someone meant me bad, but in the end, they ended up with Christian Music and a bible! That makes stealing from my car almost like missionary work!

God can make good come from bad.

Tom

Poem: Three Beautiful Things

Three Beautiful Things

The heat came on for the first time
this morning. I woke
to the sound of water trickling
through the radiators,
and lay under my quilt,
grateful for the warmth.

Midday today, in a strange town,
I had North Carolina barbeque,
a taste of childhood.
I grinned all through lunch.

As I pulled in my driveway,
two yellow leaves
lay on the hood of my old red Trooper,
the first fallen leaves of autumn.

======================

I wrote this poem as a result of reading in The Three Beautiful Things blog this morning, something I do several times a week. Each day, the author of that blog lists three beautiful things in her life.

The picture was taken where the Appalachian Trail crosses near Raphine, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: The End of September

The End of September

It is chilly this morning,
the end of September, when
the morning light streams bright as summer,
but the winds hint of winter's icy pall.

You stand on the porch,
your bare feet cold against the wood slats,
your chest warm in flannel,
caught in the middle place,

where seasons, like life, are unsure,
in that middle place
between fear of freezing,
and glorying in the last promise of summer.

Your eyes lift to nearby Tinker Mountain,
still swathed in the bright green of August,
but here, in the leaning poplars that line the creek,
the first yellow leaves show their paint,

and the last fall flowers bloom at your feet.
You smile. This is the way of life.
Seasons. Always changing. Always returning.
God's circle. God's promise. Eternity in the moment.

==============

The picture is of flowers in the small flower bed at the front of my apartment. You can click on it for a large version.

Tom