escodaiichi

I guess I started an entry directly on LJ a long time ago and left it, because it just asked me if I wanted to "restore from draft." I clicked ok, wondering what i had started to write, and it gave me a blank entry. Hopefully the actual writing of this entry will satisfy the LJ memory complex.

Thanksgiving was fun enough. We had hoped to celebrate it with my mom, but neither going there nor her coming here seemed to be in the cards. Oh well. Our family had a great dinner, courtesy of my wife, and with any luck, we won't have any leftovers left over after today. I love Thanksgiving, but the one thing I have always despised about the holiday are the leftovers, eaten for days until you're sick of them, as they slowly decay in the refrigerator. My wife has declared that anything not consumed by the end of the day is going to be trashed, to which I give my hearty support.

The rest of the weekend will be spent with catching up on writing and a York Rite meeting. We might go to church on Sunday as well. One thing I love about my Treo is the ability to write, so while sitting in otherwise boring meetings, I have the ability to write articles. Keeps me awake.

I think we're going to Japan in 2010. Just haven't decided how or why yet, but I'm sure I can come up with something.

Writing has been going well. We've been doing freelance writing for a local company and are making moves to expand our portfolio. It's been fun and has been paying the bills, so it is definitely something that we want to keep doing. It's nice not working in an office and on our own timetable. I think I have finally found something with which I can stay happy.

Thanksgiving, easily my favorite American holiday, is finally upon us. We thought about going back to Cheyenne for the holiday, but we aren't sure what the weather will be like, and we already know from past experience that driving for seven hours with our four children can be less than fun. I was hoping my mom would come out here, but she doesn't seem to be game for it.

The Scottish Rite reunion was a blast. For those of you in the know, we do all of the degrees here every year, most of them twice. We're in the process of starting a new Scottish Rite Association and implementing the Master Craftsmen program as part of the lessons. I finished Master Craftsmen a long time ago, and my wife recently finished it and was honored at the reunion banquet. She can now sign her name with the style, "Scottish Rite Master Craftsman." Nice, considering we are a strictly masculine observance.

I'm still working on several goals and meeting with a fair amount of success. I'm not kidding when I say I really do enjoy writing, and the nature of our business facilitates learning about a lot of different concepts that I might not otherwise have approached. We're keeping track of that information to use for our own future projects. Needless to say, these wouldn't be things that are in any way in competition with our current supplier. That would be unmasonic. :D

We had a great Scottish Rite reunion this past weekend. My wife was honored at the banquet for completing the Master Craftsman program, and I am part-way through Master Craftsman II.

Anyone familiar with the lessons of the Scottish Rite, especially in the southern jourisdiction, knows that the degrees are designed to inculcate specific morals. After the reunion and escpecially in conjunction with the Master Craftsman lessons, I feel a real sense of renewal. I've reviewed and rewritten some of my goals and feel very positive about that.

In spite of the fact that biologically, it's an hour later than the clock indicates, I find myself wide awake. It's not insomnia, since I know I would probably pass right out if I actually laid down and closed my eyes. Nope, this is one of those times where I just don't feel like going to sleep. No particular reason.

Maybe it's because much eariler today, I looked up the Wikipedia entries on E. A. Wallis Budge and Flinders Petrie. That all started because my three-year old was adamant about being a mummy for Halloween, which she was, and because of that, we ended up watching The Mummy (1999), which reminded me of The Egyptian Book of the Dead, and so on and so on....

Anyway, as nerdy as it may sound, the whole thing has preoccupied my mind all day. I'm still thinking about it now, and it is no longer the same day....

It's one of those times when I feel like I am supposed to write something here but have nothing in particular that I want to write. I've been working a lot, straight since the beginning of September, with only a couple of days of rest between now and then. I'll be going non-stop until mid-October. After that, I have no idea where I will be or what I will be doing.

Well, I guess that's it for now....

As you can tell, I haven't had the desire to write much lately, not for the past several months.  I have been writing in other forums though, just not on this one.  I think I go through waves with my LJ, where I can't wait to write several times a day, and then almost nothing for several months.

I've had this journal since my second child was born.  She is six years old now, and we've added two more children since then.  I've used it to record dreams, connect with people, and even send messages to people that have fallen out of contact.  I guess that makes it pretty versatile.  I have no idea what it is to become next.

It seems I record more here when things are going well, and that is something they haven't exactly been doing for the past several months.  I won't bother to say why, only that it has been one of the hardest, most disillusioning experiences of my life.  I wish I could see some good in it, but I can't really say that I do.  All of it circles around someone else's mistakes, and while this individual would say that they aren't making mistakes, almost everyone else around them (except for a small group of shallow, dough-headed idiots), including their own family and spiritual leaders, seems to privately disagree.  "Well, they have their free agency; what else can we do?"

Yeah, great.

As one friend recently put it, "They are going to have to be picking up the pieces for them for the rest of their lives, so have some pity."

Oh well, it's nothing to do with me, right?  Not my choice, not my life of regrets, not my family's shame, not our future.

So what is our future?

時の流れが不思議なんだ。

Wishing and digging
Only finding dirt
Not at all the thing we wanted
Thick and foul-smelling

Forever, it seemed
On and on
Running each handful
Grabbing at sticks and stones
Everything worthless
Thrown away

Yellow, brown, and gray
Only rocks, no real value
Under each one, another chance
Reaching further and further

Lifting each stone
In the hope of joy, yet
Ending in disappointment
Such a waste of time.

"Boats, finally pointing the right direction"
In less than a year, one by one
I watched the fleet all sink and melt away
Some capsized, others burned
Crews on a few tried their best
Others will never know my trust again
On the most important, my hands were tied
And I could only watch it dash on the reef
As it followed an abominable current
Only one left now, sails ripped and tattered
Water seeping up through the boards
Would that this were the end of it all
But the First Mate won't let me
Go down with the ship

Thanks to my wife, some important things got done today; things that will result in some money, so I thank you, sweetheart. I also had some funny experiences this weekend, but since talking too much about them now might give someone undue warning, I'll hold off. Let's just say, in light of everything, watching this from a distance will be quite satisfying. Not to laugh at anyone's pain or anything, but it will be funny.

It seems like something is supposed to be happening this week, but I can't quite remember what it is. I have a lunch appointment with someone tomorrow, another meeting on Wednesday, nothing much the rest of the week until Saturday, oh, and I came up with a good story idea that I'm going to flesh out.. Might serial it here, we'll see.

Another exciting weekend is half-way finished. I made some choices at work yesterday that I think put me in a semi-good position. I have a lot of other plans for the immediate future, but staying where I am at in this job for the next little while is helpful. After work, we went to a church dance, the theme of which was odd hats, and my five-year-old won a prize for her sombrero, which was actually the sombrero my grandmother brought me back from Mexico when I was, wow, I don't even remember. I was older than five though, because that hat sat pretty big on my daughter's head.

I had fun introducing people who were cousins to each other at the dance who had no idea how they were related. "Let's see, your grandfather and her mother are siblings, so you are first-cousins, once removed...." It's a wonder there aren't more bloody inbreds around here. Luckily, these people were all girls, so as long as they can avoid each other's brothers, or other cousins for that matter, the gene pool should remain somewhat stable. Sadly, the biggest family here carries a number of issues, like known mental illness and instability and a tendancy for cancer, so if any of those hook up, I pity the offspring.

Anyway, today I had a meeting about another business option that I think is going to be a good fit. More on that if it develops. This afternoon we had a lodge meeting, and the WM of the Lodge, Worshipful Brother Steven Lavery, did a fine job of running the show. I've watched the man from the very beginning of his Masonic progress and feel that he has the potential to accomplish amazing things.

To give my wife a break, I took the three oldest on a drive after lodge. We didn't go far or for very long, but my lady seemed a bit more at-ease by the time we returned. I have great children, but they may as well have been the by-product of a Viking breeding with a tornado, and dealing with them on a minute to minute basis can be a test of patience and mental stability. They are all asleep now, and the baby is wide awake, which is how I like it at 2:22 in the morning.

As aforementioned, I've been reading the Book of Isaiah again. An experience I commonly have when reading scriptural literature is a sort of insight, an opening of the mind, where I either comprehend a situation more clearly or find guidance on what I need to do next. Most of the time, it is simple things that I might be overlooking and occasionally it is quite profound. It's like the revealed word becomes a cryptic cypher, unlocking a mystery just long enough for me to see, and then covering the matter again. Interesting that the word “revelation” comes from the Latin revelare, meaning, “to re-veil.”

So now, in reading Isaiah, the big, overriding message I am receiving is to plan. What to plan is the next piece of the puzzle, but to begin planning, from small insignificant matters to bigger things, sit down and plan, strategize, prepare, see a thing through to its completion, regardless of that thing. While I am sure I could draw references between what I am reading and what I am feeling, I don't really want to bother; I'll just accept the inspiration and ask the next question.

And read the next chapter. Isaiah is the hottest book.

It's Mother's Day, and yet, I find myself thinking about my grandfather.

It's hard to talk about my mom's father, not because of any emotional block or traumatic event, but because I didn't really know him that well. It's really strange, because there is no good reason why I shouldn't know everything about him. Until I was eighteen, we never lived more than ninety minutes apart, and for most of that, it was closer to ten minutes apart. The memories I have of him are mostly pleasant, but for some reason, he and I never really connected.

He was very active in the community and was both a local and a national officer in Kiwanis. I know that he held membership in a few other fraternals, although I don't think he was active in those. He was a part of the Cheyenne Frontier Day's committee (which is a huge deal in Cheyenne, Wyoming) for most of his life and was actively involved in some way or another right up until he died. He had a lot of friends and a lot of people that wanted to be his friend, and I'm pretty sure that most of them thought he liked them, even if he secretly didn't.

He had been a very active Boyscout and was Scout Master at the start of World War II. Being exempt himself, he stood by and watched as one after another of his Scouts answered the call of their country and went off to war. Not being able to stand it any longer, he enlisted and was slated to go fight in the Pacific. Luckily, Germany fell while he was in training and they needed people with experience to help set up the postal service for the Army during the occupation. Being a postman himself at the time, he was transferred out of combat preparedness and sent to Regensberg to run the post office there. When I was younger, I regretted that he didn't have cool war stories to tell us, like the Battle of Iwo Jima, or the invasion of Okinawa. Now that I am older and have some experience, I am eternally grateful that he never had to see those things; never had to take another person's life in order to save his own.

He built the house that he raised his family in, and my mother lives there now. It's not very big, but of unique design. Being an electrician, he designed these wild outdoor lamps that look like something out of Dr. Seuss, affectionately dubbed the "Lollipop Trees." He would also do these ornate Christmas decorations and built a gigantic wooden tree-shaped shelf, taller than the house itself, to which he would attach all sorts of Christmas dolls and presents. That house had loads of drive-bys during the holidays, and the only shots fired came from cameras.

I could keep pouring out fact after fact, but they are just that; facts. I didn't really know the man. Whenever I visited, sometimes several times a week, he would be sitting quietly, reading his newspaper. We had very few conversations, and while I'm sure he loved and cared about me, we never really made that connection.

He's been dead a long time now and as time goes on, I feel that failure to connect more poignantly. He was a great man, of massive achievements, and as I face small things like basic home repair, and huge things, like changing the world, I find myself mentally coming back to, "You know, he would have known how to do this."

My mother sent me a pair of his compasses the other day. The real kind, not the symbolic kind. I opened the kit and saw that he had written the date that he acquired them inside the case. They are over thirty years old, but so well taken care of that they look as if they could have been bought brand new. The inscribing lead had some wear on it, so I know that they were used. As I held them for the first time, I wondered when it was the last time he held them, and as I began to map shapes, from the point within a circle, to the vesica piscis, to the transections that eventually led to a pentagon and a pentacle, I felt like, in some small way, I had found a connection with him.

So as I find expression in my own life, I will continue to do the things that open me to the lives of those who came before, knocking on that door and receiving as much as I can while it's open. Eventually, it will remain open and I will step through for the last time, and when that happens, I hope that my children's children will be able to say that they knew me.

The Grand York Rite Sessions began last night with Vespers, and today we started with Joint Sessions and Grand Chapter. A resolution was passed for the creation of a Mark Lodge, independent of a Royal Arch Chapter. I am in support, as I think there is a lot that is covered in the Mark Degree what gets passed over on the mad race to the rest of the degrees. There is still a lot to do, but I think it will work out well.

I was also appointed to a new office (Grand Captain of the Second Veil) and installed. If you aren't a Royal Arch Mason, none of that will mean anything to you, but to those that know, well, they know! :D

Tomorrow, we have Grand Council and Grand Commandery Sessions. That should be fun. Rather than pay to eat the very expensive meals, my wife packed me a lunch. I guarantee that I ate better and for far less money than most of the people in attendance. My wife totally rocks!

There is some cool Masonic bling on sale this time. I think I might pick up a new set of shirt studs and cuff links. I may also be able to get an emblem attached to the damaged watch fob on my grandfather's pocket watch. I adored that watch as a child, and since my grandfather died long before I was born, it was one of my only physical connections to him. My father inherited it when my grandmother died, and he presented it to me as a graduation present when I got my batchelor's degree. The fob on the watch is a typical fraternal maltese cross, but the emblems that would identify the fraternal were broken off a long time ago. I have always wanted to put something on in their place, and so the lady running the bling station told me to bring it to see what could be attached. If it works out, I'll post photos.

The Book of Isaiah is one of my favorite books of the Bible, and I recently started re-reading it. It is so easy for me to get wrapped up in that one, and in my ongoing fanaticism, I managed to convert it into a format that can be read on my Treo. I'm going to try and get back in touch with Avraham Gileadi to discuss some things with him. Man, I haven't seen him for about three years, when we were at the same Passover celebration. I'm sure he hasn't changed, and it will be fun to catch up!

Due to tons of busy-ness today, this is a mobile update, from my phone, from the Men's Room at Orange Soda.

Our van broke down last week. Nothing serious, but the part won't be in for a few days. We've been renting a nice Kia Rondo since then and while I'm generally not a Kia fan, the Rondo has been truckloads of fun.

Partially inspired by the broken van, we started praying for a new vehicle and another better, newer van fell right into our hands. We're registering it today and still plan to have the other one fixed.

My Masonic projects are moving along nicely, and I expect we'll be helping children with learning disabilities for the next hundred years or so. This weekend, we have Grand York Sessions.

After a three-hour discussion with a brother (religious this time) from Mexico last week and a follow-up discussion last night, we're beginning a translation and distribution project for a small community in Ozumba. He's originally from there and knows what their needs are, so we are combining efforts.

I've been studying the Book of Isaiah for a while now, and last night got so wrapped up in it that I read five or six chapters before I realized it. It is so beautiful and easily one of my favorite books. I conducted at meeting on Sunday, and one of my favorite passages came to mind, so I shared it. Isaiah 49:14-16 if you feel like looking it up.

They'll notice I'm missing if I don't wrap this up now. Besides, it looks strange to be texting in the men's room....

I'm at a place without convenient connectivity, so I'm writing this using the handy Semagic client to be uploaded at a later time. I could write it on my Treo and beam it up right now, but what is the fun in that? Besides, I want to give my thumbs a break from that little keyboard....

I'm starting to get mentally ready for the tour. The potential pandemic has caused some cancellations, which is probably for the better. Right now, only two guests are planning to come unless they cancel tomorrow, and then I'm not going. Essentially, if they decide to come, they get "upgraded" to VIP status by virtue of the fact that they get a single guide to themselves. The thing that sucks for me is that instead of a proper tour vehicle, I get downgraded to a sedan. Essentially, I become a chauffeur. What would be absolutely dreadful is if they aren't at all talkative. I had a tour of two people once who hardly said a word the whole time, even to each other. I fell asleep on the freeway and went off the road, but by the Hand of God it was at a freeway exit, so the guests were totally clueless. I just told them that I was stopping at the gas station to get a drink. Coulda shoulda woulda been dead that time had it been otherwise.

Well, time to go!

The birthday week continues! My son and I got haircuts yesterday. I had them shave him right down, but the stylist agreed that my hair should stay longer, hence, I had it reshaped. Goodbye Londo Mollari. So I still have long hair, but at least I don't look like I live under a bridge anymore.

I'm taking time off from work to run a tour next week. Grand Circle, so Las Vegas, Zions, Bryce, Antelope Canyon, Lake Powell (good old Wahweap Resort and Marina), Monument Valley, and the Grand Canyon. It'll be bittersweet, but I should have a good time.

I've been thinking about a friend who has been out of my life for a while, and how much I miss so much about them. I know it probably isn't something that they would want to hear, but I can't help feeling it. It's funny how someone can mean so much and then just disappear. You'd think that "missing" would just fade away, but in this case, it just gets more profound, like a part of me is gone as well....

Yesterday was a bit of a busy day. We had an early-morning York Chapter meeting that didn't fly because we were sort one member. We needed nine to open and only had eight, so a group of four of us had an impromptu breakfast meeting at a local restaurant. To be honest, it was probably more productive than the regular meeting would have been, and since it was around a festive board there wasn't nearly as much ceremony on which to stand.

The evening included a Grand York visitation to Price, so we left the three oldest children with friends and headed down with the baby. He and my wife met up with the other women down there and toured the natural history museum while we had our meeting, and according to her, it was one of the best side activities she's ever attended. Our meeting went well, but ended up getting out a little late which meant that we didn't get back to pick up the children until after 11:00 PM. I think it was good for my wife to get out, as she has been burdened a lot by various things lately and needed something to take her mind off of it all.

Today, however, is my birthday! I had steak for breakfast, received tons of well-wishers through various forums, and we're still trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the day. My friend's daughter also had her tenth birthday today, so I got a surprise text message from her as well. All in all, it's been a good birthday so far. Things aren't as well as I had hoped they would be by this time, but you take the hand that's been dealt.

The cards were stacked
One by one, heart to club
Every disadvantage
Planted to come my way
In favor of the house
And the familiar players
I, known only by rumor
And new to the table
Unexpectedly invited
By the Host of Hosts
The cards were dealt
My hand clearly poor
Every round played
Left me with less
A silent line whispered
Kept me from folding
"Either you win
Or everybody loses
Because the Joker
Doesn't complete the deck
And the King is in your pocket"

Our Tax return came in today, so we paid some things off and updated our home technology with a new desktop computer and a new laptop. Hey, these things are inexpensive these days, and the whole setup cost less than my first desktop computer back in the 20th Century.

Other than that, things are things I guess. I'll update more later, about work, plans, etc, so stay tuned.

I dreamed I was fishing with the Old Man. We were on the beach, and a storm was brewing off the coast. The sky over the sea was cloudy and dark.

"Brother O, this doesn't look like a good place to fish. That storm will be on us soon!"

The Old Man laughed at me. He didn't look so old anymore.

"This is the best place of all, where the waters are deepest!"

"But why are we using lines? Shouldn't we be casting nets?"

"Don't be a jackass! You can't catch this kind of fish with a net!"

I looked out over the stormy sea again, and when I turned to the Old Man, he was gone. Instead, a young boy was angrily running toward me.

"You stole my fish! It was all mine, and you stole it!"

I was confused and looked down at my hands. I was holding a beautiful rainbow-colored fish, not a trout, something else altogether. There was still a hook in its mouth, with a freyed and broken line hanging down.

"Boy, you don't want this fish. It was never yours, even if you had it on your line. But go over there, because there are fish waiting for you to catch them. One of them told me so when I was standing there, just the other day."

The young man looked longingly at the fish and for a moment I thought he was going to try and fight me for it. Suddenly his face changed. He looked at the fish, disgusted and then relieved.

"You're right! I don't want that fish at all! I can think of a thousand reasons why that fish is no good. I forgive you for taking it and I'm going to fish over there."

He got in a truck and drove away, although it wasn't in the direction I told him. Whatever you like, I thought.

I felt the fish start to squirm and wiggle out of my grasp. I looked down at it and saw that it now had two heads and no tail. The storm was getting worse and I could see the wall of rain coming inland. I noticed a piece of paper coming out of the left-hand head of the fish, and a small round ball was in the mouth on the right. I pulled out the paper, which was rolled like a little scroll, but the paper and the print was like a shopping receipt. There was only one sentence written in awkward Spanish, and I could hear the words in a deep Spanish voice as I read them:

"La depresión maníaca con tendencias bipolar: la esquizofrenia"

Then the other head choked and spit the ball out into my hand. I quickly caught it between my thumb and palm before it could fall into the sand. It sparkled a little and I could see tiny words inside, so I held it up to the sun, which wasn't covered by the circling clouds. These words were also in Spanish, but I didn't hear them this time, I felt them.

"No pierda la esperanza"

And that was it.

Grateful, oddly grateful
In spite of everything
Various feelings, seemingly at variance
Except they all lead to Gratitude
Yesterday seemed so hard
Ominous and dark
Utterly so, even with time's passage
Miles away now, as time is wont
Yesterday seems to have passed
Leaving only a sense of loss,
Open-wounds, slowly healing
Very, very slowly, but I'm
Expecting joy with the scars