A Call to Robust Living - Reposted

“My prayer is not the whimpering of a beggar nor a confession of love. Nor is it the trivial reckoning of a small tradesman: Give me and I shall give you.


My prayer is the report of a soldier to his general: This is what I did today, this is how I fought to save the entire battle in my own sector, these are the obstacles I found, this is how I plan to fight tomorrow… ‘Leader!’ I cry. He turns his face towards me, and I shudder to confront his anguish.


Our love for each other is rough and ready, we sit at the same table, we drink the same wine in this low tavern of life.”


--“The Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises” by Nikos Kazantzakis


I am truly a fan of Tolkien's ‘The Lord of The Rings” trilogy. I remember spending hours upon hours tucked quietly in my college dorm room, devouring words upon words, page after page as the fantastic saga unfolded and I journeyed with the heroes of Middle Earth in their quests for victory. In the films of the past few years, we have seen the cinematic adaptation of this tale, and I find myself equally enthralled again with Tolkien's message.

Be it the battles of Elves and Orcs, the magical sparring of light wielding Wizards, or the inner struggle of the spirits of Hobbits and a solitary Gollum, the quest and it’s urgency is the same: Avoid the malformed power of the ring until it can be destroyed, at all costs. The heroes know the importance of that last phrase, ‘at all costs.’ Each is willing to, and some in turn do, give their very life for this cause. It is a wonderful drama of the high cost of noble victory.

It is this urgency that I hear in the words of Nikos Kazantzakis written above. If indeed, as I believe is the case, we humans are in need of help beyond ourselves in order to fulfill the beauty of this human drama, and if we are destined to suffer and fail along the way without this help, then there is an equal sense of urgency about our quest as is that of the soldier and the heroes of Tolkien's tale. All the more, If the quest for this assistance is a path that is known by some and open to others, and yet, is never made clear, how can the battle be won?

How tempting it is to tuck into the safety of Bilbo Baggins’ shire (for adventures make one late for dinner) or to hide in the security of the establishment office, for there we feel safe. Might we be missing the more important call for action?

I do not claim to know THE way that anyone should live, but what I do know is that I am committed to the journey toward The Divine, that power that aids and guides me. Do I travel in too scarce a number today? Should I not pause by the road, and share a bit of the tale that has brought me thus far? Can I not beckon others onward to their journey as well? I am made to ask of myself today, “What report can I give to God, today?”

The Other Side of Kim - Kim the Preacher

Some of you may know that I spent 15 years as a pastor with a mainline denomination. It's true. I want to let the readers here know about a new blog I'm running to focus on matters of a religious and spiritual nature.

My thought, as my life has change in the decade since I left ordained ministry, is that there are things I wish I had said from the pulpit. No regrets - just a former pastor's way of sharing about crazed religion, absurd theology and hilarious stories. Let me invite you to WishfulPreaching.com. 

You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

Why Our Education No Longer Works...and the ADD non-epidemic

Great video. Content and presentation are worth viewing...many times.

If I May Speak Frankly - The 4 Demands of Joy

Dear Readers:

I hope I'm not imposing.. I'd like your awareness of a new project. 

The 4 Demands of Joy marks the culmination of 30+ years of work and thought in the area of life, love and spirituality.

My bio will give you some of the details of my life journey and explain some of the education and work experiences that have brought me to a new and helpful way to embrace more Joy in your life.

Please visit the temporary website (http://the4demands.blogspot.com) and the Facebook page (give us a 'like' won't you?)

Also, if you would care to promote this via your own Social and Blog world - well, so much the better.

If you are personally interested in the January class, let me know and I can answer any questions that you might have.

I now return you to the regularly scheduled Kim's Korner...

5 Week Class in 2011

For a long time (meaning more than 10 years) I've been trying to articulate an assortment of thoughts, ideas, and theories about one of the biggest challenges face in life: the ability to find and maintain joy.

I have put together some research and designed an interactive experience to share with others. The end result is that I have the privilege to offer a workshop over a five week period in the first part of 2011. I hope you'll feel free to drop over to the blog and Facebook Page - and perhaps, just perhaps - participate in the journey.

Now, I return you to the regularly scheduled blogging here at Kim' Korner.

Garrison Keillor - Winston Salem, NC

Last evening I took advantage of a rare opportunity to enjoy one of the best story tellers of our generation, Garrison Keillor. The master of A Prairie Home Companion and troubadour of Lake Woebegone, Garrison Keillor knows how to weave a tale.

The Steven's Center was a delightful venue for the event. The stage front was set with a simple table, stool and microphone stand. Denise Franklin of our local public radio station, WFDD, offered a simple and respectful introduction of Mr. Keillor that set the stage complete with understated anticipation.

What followed was a well measured unleashing of humor, poignancy and inspiration as the baritone voice of Garrison sung and spoke story into our hearts. His humor was masterfully crafted right down to the black suit and white shirt that playfully gave way to a red tie, socks and sneakers: classic Keillor - refined and established tradition with a splattering of irreverence.

I had two take a ways this night: 1. Garrison's description of marriage as "A life time sentence to a relationship with your best informed critic." You have to love this. My wife and I looked at each other with instant agreement and bursting laughter. 2. The art of story is a dying art and if we lose this wonderful form of communication, if the digital snippets of media that bounce in and out of our awareness each day manage to capture so much of our attention that we no longer have the time or craving for the well turned phrase and a rambling illustration...then life will be diminished beyond reclamation.

If you have not had the pleasure of basking in the mastery of story as it is delivered - no, performed - by Garrison Keillor then reach out into this digital, instant gratification world and GET YOU SOME well paced, long rambling, heart stroking, laughter generating, life adoring STORY.

Singularly Tattooed

 In the world of body art, I stand among the minority.  I am told that there are fewer people on this planet with 1 tattoo than there are people with none and multiples.

I have just the one, and one day - if you are really lucky - I'll tell you my "the day I got my tattoo" story... maybe.

Do you have a tattoo? Tattoos?

We Feel Fine - Really!? Honestly?!

Want to "see" what is being felt around the world last year, or even in your city today? This is an amazing tool and worth a few minutes to explore.

Drop over to "We Feel Fine" and take a look at the feeling of others... maybe even yourself.

You know you're getting old when...

It seems I'm having more and more conversations lately that begin with "I remember when...."

The latest vivid memory is of Major Matt Mason - Man in Space. I spent hours upon hours playing in the back yard with these toys, imagining space aliens, explosions and victories over evil monsters. Even with the occasional interruption to "wash-up for dinner," my days were all the time all the way Major Matt Mason!

Snake In The Grass

A few weeks ago, I was alerted by two painters (from the wonderful folks at Hassle Free Home Improvements) that there was a snake in my shrubbery.  I'm find of most snakes - they serve great purposes: eating other snakes, moles, mice and rats, for example. However, there is one variety of snake that is not welcome in my yard and this one was one of those. I dislike Copperheads. This one was a beauty - rest his soul.

(click photos for a larger image)

Dolphin Musing

Using a writers prompt, I penned these words.

"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."

It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.

That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.

The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, and wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far.

They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There were three of them, two large and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.

I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed for the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn’t enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water. I was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifted a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.

The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.

Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was fully present in unadulterated bliss.

Then, they bid me farewell and I felt a tug of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.

Image available here

Old Guys Rule

Today was my birthday, and in honor of the milestone passing, I thought I would share an age related story from my life this past week. First we have to go back a couple of years...


My wife and I were vacationing in Bermuda when I spotted a T-Shirt that said, "Old Guys Rule." I loved it. As an 'aging man', it was affirming to read those words so proudly displayed. I made a mental note to check out into getting one. Months later, at Christmas I received not only the shirt but a white decal displaying those words.


"Old Guys Rule" turns out to be a bit of a retail movement with hats, shirts, decals, bags, etc. I now own several items sporting that motto. I find it playful, fun and affirming. The decal is displayed on the lower corner of my driver's side windshield. Over the last two years the only comments I have received have been positive. People like it. They seem to "get it" until one morning last week.

I was parked in front of my son's home waiting to pick him up when two woman walked by walking their dogs. One of them started talking to me through my closed car window. I rolled down the window to hear her and she pointed at the decal and asked, "Old Guys Rule?" I smiled and replied, "Yes." She snorted - yes actually snorted - and said, "Not over me they don't!"

What? Is it possible to affirm ANYTHING without offending someone? Well, I'm another year older today and I'm just saying, "OLD GUYS RULE!"

Spring Time Play Ground

We have some new neighbors and they include children. I was mowing the lawn as they darted past me through our side yard and down the hill to the creek. I stopped the mower and as the engine went silent I heard one of them yell, "We're going to the creek!"

We are fortunate that even though we live in the city, we have the benefit of a lot that boarders a few wooded acres and a creek, complete with the remnants of an old mill wall. The greatest part of this event is that these children, ages 7-14, aren't sitting all day inside playing video games or online clicking through Facebook - they are outside, immersed in nature with old trees, clean running water, illusive crayfish and each other.

Here's what has them excited - care to come out and play?

I Don't Remember Being Forgetful

Let me just first say that my memory isn't that bad. In fact I have an excellent track record of memorizing lines for plays, poetry, and countless talks, speeches and other messages. However, if you ever visit my family down in South Carolina, within 15 minutes you will begin to hear stories about my childhood and one of them will no doubt be about my forgetfulness.

There was the time when I was 7 or 8 years old that my mother sent me to the front yard to empty the waste basket into the large metal outdoor trash can. For those too young to remember (there's that memory again) they look like this.

So, out I went to empty the trash and apparently while on my way back to the house I came across one of the neighborhood dogs wandering through our front yard. Dogs wandered in those days (can you imagine that, or do you need another photo).

Now it seems perfectly reasonable to me that a 8 year old boy would stop and play with a readily available dog. The story, as my mother tells it - endlessly - is that i came back inside (after a prolonged time) happy and clueless of the fact that I had left the waste basket in the front yard. Therefore, I am forever deemed "forgetful."

To me it is a simple case of priorities. Which is more important: an empty waste basket, or a wandering dog?

That's my story and I'm sticking to it - like white on rice.

Rushing from Past to Eternity

Meet Tom Rush

From the cramped space of my college dorm room and the defined limits of my young adult life, the voice of Tom Rush, gentle and filled with melancholy, touches my mind, my soul and reminds me that there are those who capture life in ballads and tunes hauntingly impassioned.

Tom Rush has both lyrics and music that are of a time gone by. Heck, even for the years of his popularity, he was singing stories and a style from the days of cowboy ballads and hobo songs.

Look him up. Take a trip on some of his lyrics, or just sit back and have your heart rocked lovingly by Maggie from "Ladies Love Outlaws."

Another - Kids say the funniest things – Story 002

I have already said, my youngest step daughter (now 22, and a senior at ECU) is the family ‘funny saying generator.’ It seems to be her role to interpret life situations in, well comical if not correct ways.

The traffic was very heavy and hearing her mother complain about it, this wiley 7 year old said, “Remember mom. It’s rough hour.” It was, but made more enjoyable by her comment.

Another one for the memory books…

Kids say the funniest things – Story 001

My youngest step daughter is the family ‘funny saying generator.’ It seems to be her role to interpret life situations in, well - comical if not correct ways.

There was the time, at 7 years old, when she was riding with her mother past the local cemetery and said very matter of fact. “Look mommy. There’s the brave yard.”

Makes sense to me.

Always A Story

I viewed “The Legend of 1900” this week. I enjoyed the film - a fanciful story of a child that grows up on a commercial steam liner in the 1900's develops a mastery of piano and yet never sets foot on land.

There were several memorable moments and charming characters.

One quote that sticks with me is this: “You're never really done for, as long as you've got a good story and someone to tell it to.”

Isn’t that the truth. It's soon time for a story...

An Open Letter to Hallmark

Dear Hallmark:

Thank you for your wide and creative selection of cards. As a man, it is most helpful that you provide me with cards that speak of love, commitment, passion and adoration between a husband and wife. At each season and holiday, when I reach to purchase a card – I am glad you have thought through these details for me.

I would like to make one request, however. Can you please not design these cards to appeal to me just in order to sell them? Yes, I like brown, tan and other earth tone colors. I am a bit uncomfortable holding flowery, glitter laden and sparkling cards that sing love songs. And yet, even at the risk of making me uncomfortable can you NOT design any cards that will result in my wife saying – “How nice. You picked this one because you like the colors – didn’t you?” I promise I will buy whatever you sell, just help me out will you?

Sincerely,

Theguythatlikesearthtones…

Writing Prompt - Dolphin Musing

Dolphin Musing

Using a writers prompt, I penned these words and posted them elsewhere previously. May they bring you some of the peace that they brought me this day.

"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."

It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.

That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.

The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far. They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There where three of them, two adults and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.

I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed hold of the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn't enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water, was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifting a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.

The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.

Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was at once lost in bliss and fully present with myself.

Later, they bid me farewell and I felt a bit of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.