I witnessed the dew take form on the blades of grass at two o' clock in the morning, while the world slumbered, and I had violated a fundamental law of consumption. In a self embrace, not unlike an infant encased in the womb, I came face-to-face with life--and life abundantly. The trees crepitated it, the lake swished it, the thunder growled it; but it was the breeze that whispered it to me, and forever I shall be grateful...
*~*
I spent three years studying at Azusa Pacific University in Los Angeles. During my residency all students were required to attend chapel services three days a week. Often, the school would have orators from different organizations, churches and/or companies come speak on various topics. The one I remember most clearly was a pastor by the name of Francis Chan, and he spoke of eternity.
Francis Chan was a man of practical persuasions. To him, even the most simple of things was not worth discussing unless it held some pragmatic use, and conversely, if he saw practical value in a thing complicated and confusing, that thing became his topic. But to communicate such complexities, he had to find a way to transfer the idea and make it real. He did this through physical illustrations.
Barbie dolls, beer cans and boots littered the stage whenever he was speaking. However, on the occasion that he spoke of eternity, he had naught but a single item: a thirty-five foot rope. On the end of the rope was a piece of red tape, approximately one quarter of an inch wide. He unrolled the coil of rope across the stage and said that the rope represented eternity (of course, imagine that the rope extends into infinity) and the red tape represented our lifetime. And he said, and I believe rightfully so, that we spend all our time and energy focusing on the tiny portion of red tape and ignoring the far greater expanse of eternity. Why?
One must see this for themselves as the impact of seeing such a long rope with such a short piece of red tape is much more impressive than imagining it in one's head.
And seeing it for me made all the sense in the world as I witnessed the dew forming on the blades of grass at two o' clock in the morning.
*~*
When I was fourteen years old I had dreams of grandeur: Fortune 500 CEO, Navy SEAL, distinguished film director, famous novelist and Presidential aide--titles that accompanied me through every reverie.
Then I met a girl.
My dreams changed. And not for the worse or the better; they simply changed. That is, until we separated two years later. The path I had been on was suddenly the path I didn't need anymore; and instead of continuing it with another girl, I choose to go back to the reveries.
However, a problem.
Years later (as I witnessed the formation of dew) those dreams were still dreams. And a dream, at some point in time, need be actualized for it not to become a nightmare.
*~*
I have written and read and filmed and toasted and laughed and fought and drank and kissed and danced and smoked and slept and listened and ran and cried and wished and loved and dreamt most of my red tape away, and no actualization has afforded me.
In that moment of witnessing the dew form on the blades of grass, I was inspired beyond what I had been before to make the most out of life. And I must make the right decisions in life in order to fully accomplish such a task. Cold, calculating decisions.
I witnessed dew forming on the myriad blades of grass at two o' clock in the morning...
... but that was seven years past and I ... am still stuck in the moment.
*~*
I spent three years studying at Azusa Pacific University in Los Angeles. During my residency all students were required to attend chapel services three days a week. Often, the school would have orators from different organizations, churches and/or companies come speak on various topics. The one I remember most clearly was a pastor by the name of Francis Chan, and he spoke of eternity.
Francis Chan was a man of practical persuasions. To him, even the most simple of things was not worth discussing unless it held some pragmatic use, and conversely, if he saw practical value in a thing complicated and confusing, that thing became his topic. But to communicate such complexities, he had to find a way to transfer the idea and make it real. He did this through physical illustrations.
Barbie dolls, beer cans and boots littered the stage whenever he was speaking. However, on the occasion that he spoke of eternity, he had naught but a single item: a thirty-five foot rope. On the end of the rope was a piece of red tape, approximately one quarter of an inch wide. He unrolled the coil of rope across the stage and said that the rope represented eternity (of course, imagine that the rope extends into infinity) and the red tape represented our lifetime. And he said, and I believe rightfully so, that we spend all our time and energy focusing on the tiny portion of red tape and ignoring the far greater expanse of eternity. Why?
One must see this for themselves as the impact of seeing such a long rope with such a short piece of red tape is much more impressive than imagining it in one's head.
And seeing it for me made all the sense in the world as I witnessed the dew forming on the blades of grass at two o' clock in the morning.
*~*
When I was fourteen years old I had dreams of grandeur: Fortune 500 CEO, Navy SEAL, distinguished film director, famous novelist and Presidential aide--titles that accompanied me through every reverie.
Then I met a girl.
My dreams changed. And not for the worse or the better; they simply changed. That is, until we separated two years later. The path I had been on was suddenly the path I didn't need anymore; and instead of continuing it with another girl, I choose to go back to the reveries.
However, a problem.
Years later (as I witnessed the formation of dew) those dreams were still dreams. And a dream, at some point in time, need be actualized for it not to become a nightmare.
*~*
I have written and read and filmed and toasted and laughed and fought and drank and kissed and danced and smoked and slept and listened and ran and cried and wished and loved and dreamt most of my red tape away, and no actualization has afforded me.
In that moment of witnessing the dew form on the blades of grass, I was inspired beyond what I had been before to make the most out of life. And I must make the right decisions in life in order to fully accomplish such a task. Cold, calculating decisions.
I witnessed dew forming on the myriad blades of grass at two o' clock in the morning...
... but that was seven years past and I ... am still stuck in the moment.
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