325 lines
8.2 KiB
Markdown
325 lines
8.2 KiB
Markdown
# Prayers
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- [x] Mass
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- [ ] Evening Rosary (w. mysteries)
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# Studies
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- [x] 1 hr Catechism
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- [x] 1 hr Civil Eng
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- [x] 1 hr Agricultural Study
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- [ ] 2hr Woodwork
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# Did you eat well?
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- Sausage and pasta, est. 1400 calories
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-
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# Tasks
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- [ ] Set up tomorrow's schedule
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- [ ] Enjoy the day
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# Thoughts
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It is a nice cool evening.
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I have been told a few times in a few different places, including this Gospel, to listen closely to God; he is answering things, but we need the ears to hear.
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The question I am asking: when do I leave for Illinois? Post-haste? What do I do when I am there?
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How has God spoken to me about this? Am I cllosed up on this? Not willing to budge?
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Saint Xenia, pray for me.
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Saint Joseph, pray for me.
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Saint Jude Thaddeus, pray for me.
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Saint Josemaria Escriva, pray for me.
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Jackson's brakes still need worked on.
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I'm in such a weird dance.
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Which foot do I lead with?
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No, I'm off rhythm.
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Oh, completely off rhythm.
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How do I get back on?
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I decided the dance was dumb
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but wallflowering is really no fun
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I can look judgingly on
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while my feet remain un-nimble
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not up to the task
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which is not what the poustinik is for
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the poustinik stays sharp
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and that is what I am to do
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I know I need to sharpen
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but I also know there's a journey
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A journey I need to pack for
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A journey I need to buy my tickets for
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Or at least the gas
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Say my byes
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Hit the road
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not look back
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lest I fall like Lot's wife
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a madame of horrid strife
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Because that could be me
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living a life of mis-er-y
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And that could by my family
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But the change God wants begins with me
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And so I hope he will be reveal-ing
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because being stuck
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really sucks
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like you're out of luck
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and down in a rut
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Am I divinizing
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Or am I quieting myself
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When I am asking "what should I do"
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What do I mean?
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Lord,
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When I use these words,
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Inspire me
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To truly seek out what you want
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What christ would do
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What is most harmonious
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with creation
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I am nervous
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To talk to people
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Because I fear I will get led astray
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made fun of
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advantaged
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and generally
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confused
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or scandalizing
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Because
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I do not feel steady with myself
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And yet the Lord shows me
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"The storm is lifted"
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So I should not be worried.
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Now is the time to walk.
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Although, the dry season comes too,
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I suppose.
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I guess
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Perhaps
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I ought to read Exodus
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Or at least think about that
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I can just ask my dad
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When would be a good time to come get me
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And anchor myself to that
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That would settle that question good.
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Am I overcomplicating things?
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Perhaps.
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The idea of making things be in harmony with one another is not lost on me.
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I am a perfectionist.
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An idealist.
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To the irritation of some.
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Time is not short.
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No, time is long.
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And I do have quite a bit of it.
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Yet simultaneously,
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Time is short.
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And I ought not squander it.
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This is a paradox
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Or perhaps better stated a mystery
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That we live out each day
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Or look at with disdain and refuse to engage with
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(an unfortunate reality)
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Will I need to buy some things on the market, in the future?
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Most likely.
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It's not like cash won't stay.
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It's just that I don't like it that way.
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Am I too brash, too ideological, too committed to some far-out ideal?
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Perhaps.
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I am a sort of romantic. Not a pure kind of course. But one who recognizes the classic orders of things.
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Who am I?
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What sort of person am I?
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Am I doomed to be a bugman?
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Can I not come out of my shell?
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The thing is I'm not in my element. I'm not on my map. On my path.
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I'm encountering people as I bushwack.
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Will we meet again?
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Every time I see a face, I question if I will. And so I am unsure what to do.
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But if asked I will do.
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I will put down and solve.
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But do I propose?
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Do I put forth?
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God does not seem to be directing me to do so much.
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And so perhaps I am just out of touch.
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I don't quite know how to be around this bunch.
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And I spend an excessive time watching videos at lunch.
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Which, ironically, makes me lose my crunch.
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Tinnitus.
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This is what I notice most.
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Tinnitus.
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When I put the earbuds on
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And sit in the quiet
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Where I am honest
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And try to listen
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All I get
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Is tinnitus.
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It is strange to think
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How the 'quiet, rural life'
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Gives such noise. Physically.
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The repeated combustion.
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Burning dinosaur bones.
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Lord, I know my heartache. I know the longing. I know I want my family back.
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But that needs so much healing.
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That's a whole barrage of stuff to work through.
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A whole slew of self-work that I lack.
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Because who am I when I am back?
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Especially now, when a vision I lack?
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If there were perhaps a plan
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I could shape myself into a man
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But without that I am the same
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Aimless; insane.
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A hundred lines of poem.
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From the fingers, a flowing.
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Eight years away.
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Four years truly.
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A year of nothing at the start
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Three plus years with Eve.
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A year of weird.
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A half alone.
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A half with Vera.
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One and change with Noelle.
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Five years of women. Maybe six.
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And what do I have to show for it?
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Well perhaps more than I give myself credit for.
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Maturity? Perhaps.
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But even then I still relapse.
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Understanding myself
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My desires
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My wiles
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The type of girl that's my style
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She's eager
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She's smart
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She's willing to start
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Trusting and caring too
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Capable, and giving
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Not into citiy living
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That's the type for me
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At least I suppose
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I struggle to say yes
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Because things are never the best
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I wonder if I'll ever propose
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Because at the end of it all
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I do fear commitment
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To something unfitting
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And I oft get the urge to roam
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But I still ultimately want... to come home.
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I suppose that's the thing.
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Eve was fun
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But with the week done
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We found that we weren't
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At home
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Just happy
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together
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And vera you see,
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Same sort of thing.
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But usually just after the day.
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Noelle, oh hell,
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It's strange how that got so strung on
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Because while she was sassy
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And quite classy
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In the points of just "living"
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We found at thanksgiving
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We just did not
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Get along
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Always a battle
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Always a rattle
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When I just want rhythm to get along
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I like my routine
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And I like it lean
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Because it's just the scaffolding for me
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The real action varies
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So I'd think, even when married
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(This is a bit contrived of a pome)
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But lord can't you see
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That I'm trying to see
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Just what it means
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To be me
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Come home........
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Come home.......
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Ye who are weary, come home........
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What
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Do I need
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to do?
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Talk
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to
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my
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dad
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about
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timing
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and be frank
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about what I want to do:
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Principally, I want to homstead
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And whatever I need to do to support that, fine
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Look, this woodcraft thing isn't really what I'm supposed to be doing. It's neat maybe but not the thing.
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Remember that Muse song?
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The one about being a killing machine?
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Being raised to do one thing?
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And I feel I've woken up
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And all I can do is kill
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I don't make things live and breathe
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I'm a Claus
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A masked man
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Trying to get home again
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But there isn't anything there
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What I think is there
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Isn't there
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Even if it were
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I would kill it
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Look
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all I want to do
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And I mean the only thing positive I can think to do right now
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is to get a cow on the pasture
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And get some permaculture in the backyard
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And build a cabin on Moberly's
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Maybe transform the orchard in Moberly's
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That could be good
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Everything else
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Is just secondary
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And might come out of it
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(I'm sure it will)
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Can I use my violent gifts for good?
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Does such violence have a place?
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The mashing of steel
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Do I need the money?
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-> $2000/mo
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-> Can you make this by being productive instead though? Food, Furniture, Framing?
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Bring it in.
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It's not unattainable. It's actually very easy, though you may not know the path, can you envisage the destination?
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A house I built myself, near my parents'. I helped my son build his, too. We all tend to the plants and animals around us and in turn they give us our daily meals. There is joy and life in the air. We make things - furniture, frames, fixes, ferments, foods - and make them for others too. We sell and barter, we worship and bring people in - we're not an island.
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How did it start? Well it started when I realized that's what I wanted. So I built a little cabin on Moberly's, got a cow on the pasture, and started gardening on the backside of Moberly's. Of course to do that I had to get some better hand tools and find a place to put them (great thing we have so many machine sheds - and my Grandpa's woodshop!). Turns out though, that having a dedicated workshop would be a good idea - hey, let's leverage the Funks Grove area. They've got a little blacksmith shop there - maybe we could network and set up a makerspace around there, teach some classes! Sure enough we did, since I've been making enough timber frames.
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Okay. |