God Is My Homey

It is a long-held and well-known Recovery Circuit platitude, that EGO stands for Edging God Out.

Also that the -ISM of alcoholism stands for Incredibly Short Memory.

How true, and how true.  Incredibly Short Memory is the -ISM part of ALL the -ism’s, Truth be told.

Sooo, now that I have remembered that You are EXACTLY the writing not to abandon or conceal — now that I have recalled that the plots and politics of men and mercenaries are trifling compared to divinity and eternity — WHASSUP?

I must say, the Cicero >> Churchill >> Agatha Christie sequence seemed pointedly to commend fiction over fact.  No intelligent person will disagree, good historical fiction is great reading.  Whose hat isn’t off to great writers who are good historians? In my stubborn refusal to hit every letter of the alphabet every time I want or need to get from A to Z, I apprehend that writing historical fiction while said history is in the making rather lightens the research burden.  Stick your-not-Your hand at any point, at any time into the stream of news, information, disinformation, half-truths, lies, whitewashes, coverups and scandals that rage past like a swollen river and, just like that, you’ve got yourself a fistful of fact that is, indeed, stranger than fiction.

Cautionary Tales R Us.

I have a grasping-at-straws sense that if I will allow the miracle of modern technology that is the internet to facilitate an ongoing public word with You, which is to say if I pray “out loud” on my own handy dandy laptop computer and publish my petitions and contemplations into cyberspace, it may help me move with greater clarity and alacrity into alignment with Your will.  ’Cuz I’m just as sure as I can be that my country is slid substantially over toward the Sodom & Gomorrah end of the Morality scale.

It is my truest conviction that I am duty-bound to break ranks.  In resisting what I sincerely believe is upper case Evil, I ask Your guidance and protection with complete abandon.  What choice, eh?  Ask omnipresent Government for a handout, like a common lower-case greedy Obamabot?  I think not.

Man does not live by largesse alone.  And I don’t have to tell YOU that I say that as a person who until a few years ago had a PRONOUNCED sense of Entitlement.  I also don’t have to tell You that, even though I berate myself as both longtime offender and reformed whore, my PREVIOUS transgressions are cited as rationalization of doing nothing now.  Because I used to be and do worse than people are being and doing now, it is alright for them to keep being and doing as they are.  And people STILL have the audacity to call me “out there.”

All this Gimme-Gimme puts me in mind of a quote by Samuel Goldwyn, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”  Which is not so much An Original as an adaptation of Thomas Jefferson’s sentiment, “I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.”

I often quote me in saying, “The obvious becomes only suddenly apparent.”

Here’s what I know.  The course and content of a day is ALWAYS better when I spend a few waking moments in meditation.  Likewise, contemplation of You is reliably if unpredictably effective.  ”Ask and ye shall receive” is not how I would r  I ask for Your guidance and protection and, before the post is ended, I am reminded of the reliable benefits of prayer and contemplation.

Hmmm . . . sooo . . . lemme see if I am rightly connected a couple dots.  Turning to You only in duress might be likened to lining up for a handout, whereas ongoing Relationship with You might be likened to DOING THE WORK.

I shall seek through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with You as I understand You, praying only for knowledge of Your will for me and the power to carry that out.  I mean, I DO believe that a power greater than us could restore us to sanity.

I, for one, am beaten into a state of Reasonableness.  Sooo, what’ll it be?  You lead the way, and I’ll be hard on Your heels.  I have Doubts, but no Fear.

Let’s see here . . .

• First Base: Who
• Second Base: What
• Third base: I Don’t Know
• Left field: Why
• Center field: Because
• Pitcher: Tomorrow
• Catcher: Today
• Shortstop: I Don’t Care/I Don’t Give a Darn

Between You and me, I have Doubt about the Shortstop.

Could be sub-par skillz.  Could be lack of nutrition, sex, sleep, affection and joy.  It’s hard to say.  I’d like to cut the kid some slack but, no doubt about it, the Shortstop is committing errors.  Whether the errors are because of the attitude or the attitude is because of the errors doesn’t change the bottom line.  The Shortstop’s attitude is sliding right into the I-don’t-give-a-shit crapper.  What do people say ‘pardon the pun,’ I wonder.  Puns are a hoot — celebrate the pun!

In the Shortstop’s defense, not caring should be qualified by ANYMORE.  Even so, errors are errors.

Honorable discharge for the sick ‘n tired Shortstop?  Not out to pasture, but up to a box seat.  An avid-not-to-say-rabid Patriot fan with a clear view of Home Plate, who keeps close track of the game from a quality-of-life spectating distance but who remains ready, willing and able — prepared, available and trained — to charge the field with the rest of the Patriot fans if the Patriot fans ever DO take the field.  

Let the Big Swinging Dicks who make the lion’s share of the politicking-for-profit money continue to make the lion’s share of the politicking-for-profit money, as perhaps they have always done and will always do.  The dearer of my Redneck Brothers posed the very interesting question of whether, really, anything is any worse than it has ever been. How would I know?  I was drunk at the time.  In fact, I am ever so curious to learn what everyone else’s excuse is.

Are Assholes part of the Plan, period?  Or do Assholes exist, purposefully and strictly as a challenge to Good Guys to rise to the occasion.  I dunno . . . obviously.  But it makes no spiritual sense to me that Believers could or should run themselves ragged and everyone else to distraction spouting Christianity if they will cower and comply when theoretical rubber hits the unforgiving asphalt of Reality.

I am starting to REPEAT myself.  It is one thing to repeat oneself SPEAKING, it is quite another to do so WRITING.  Like buying 100 lottery tickets instead of one.  If You would intend for me to win the lottery, I have every confidence that You could pull it off with a single ticket.  I also have every confidence that You do NOT intend for me to win the lottery so, no worries, no inbound prayer on THAT count. 

Who am I to effect Change?  I don’t have to tell YOU about stiff-necked people.  Barack Yes We Can Obama isn’t exactly setting any land records . . . ‘cept with our wild and whacky dash to the Communist side of Corporatism.  That certainly qualifies as Change — indeed it qualifies as Fascism — and not at our customary slow-as-molasses-in-January amble either, but at a reckless, frightening, breakneck pace.  

That is Gross Wrong in my view.

Is my view Wrong, or is the Wrong not mine to right — or does dragon-slaying, like the stubborn auto industry, need retooling?  The time and degree of difficulty of making any more headway on my own is prohibitive.  Period.  I could spend the balance of my days without making a dent in the problem or a bump in my finances.  There is NOTHING divine about that.  Time is precious.  

If I’m doing Right, I’m doing it wrong.  If I’m doing Wrong, I should stop.

Put me in Coach, I’m ready to play?  Spin-to-the-left-spin-to-the-right-stand-up-sit-down-fight-fight-fight?  When the going gets tough, the tough get going?   Win this one for the Gipper?

Replace the Shortstop? 

Seventh inning stretch?  

Or is the game over, for all practical purposes — shall I leave early, beat the beer drinkers out of the parking lot?

What say You, Coach?

Here is what I know.  Many of the quote-unquote principled among me are content to compromise Principle if doing so will advantage them, and/or if doing so maintains their status quo though it may cause others to be injured or killed.

Liberty-minded, my ass.  Principled, my ass.  More like, maximally free to MAKE MONEY, come hell or high water. One way or another, if you can’t beat them join them, the ends justify the means . . . by hook or by crook.

Whoever has Money is credible in the eyes of the Public and preferable in the eyes of the Law.  Whoever doesn’t have Money lacks credibility in the eyes of the Public and preference in the eyes of the Law.  It is the Truth, and it is Wrong.

Gambling proceeds apace on the South Shore of Lake Tahoe.  Also comedy.  I ask You, what’s funny?  I would also ask, with the conversion of “one armed bandits” to electronic score keeping, where did all the coins go?

Of the truly Principled, it would appear that the commanding majority are legitimately deluded — steadfastly believing despite mounting evidence to the contrary that peaceableness will prevail over Force — or they are plain old scared.

Fifteen rounds with a conscienceless uber rich AIPAC member will do nothing if not disabuse you of the idea that simply doing right will effect Right.  The only spiritual sense I can make of this mess is that you would have me give voice to the OUTRAGEOUS leeway that is granted to perversions of all sorts, so long as the practice is commercially viable and the perpetrator is financially powerful.

In other words, there are Moneychangers in the temple AND we are full of shit.

‘What would Jesus do,’ fiddle de de.  How very convenient.  What should WE do, and why are we not doing it?

You bet.  We are past the awkward stage and well into the realm of I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT.  Elvis has left the building.

But not only CAN I believe it, I cannot afford NOT to believe it.  It is HAPPENING.  Right there, right here, everywhere, before my eyes, Life.  It is so common a sentiment held so steadily across so many generations, as to lend legitimacy to the sense that time passes more quickly with the advancement of one’s own years.

I believe I have had an Epiphany, and part of that Epiphany is that I don’t have to spell out — literally, type — my communication with You.  What, like You don’t KNOW the thoughts that I would wrestle into cogent sentences?  Frankly, it must be painful for You to hear us umm, err, ahh our way into asking for favors.  Speaking of cogent sentences, though, I have lately read back through some of my posts, and I am STILL doing it.  Between You and me, I could and would defend formality of style and precision of language if I were NAILING them, but I am not.  Progress, not perfection, eh?  Feel free to intercede.

If my words would influence Americans toward Reason, I need to bear in mind that Americans want the gist.  Fast.

Suffice it then to say:

1.  I will unsaddle myself of a To Do list of hard-copy letters that is seriously bogging me down.  I’m just not gonna bother with the paper and the ink and the envelopes and the addresses and the stamps and the copies and the filing.  I shall catch up with myself and the millennium by conveying messages as open letters online, jeepers, in the manner of an online publishing company. This will relieve me of such a lot of pressure, clutter and expense that, candidly, I’m surprised You didn’t think of it sooner.

2. I resolve to be more sincere about Your will being done — as they say on the Recovery Circuit, my best thinking got me here.  I resolve to be more aware of the difference between perseverance and stubbornness, and especially the difference between staying open-minded and looking Godsends in the mouth.  I resolve to be vigilant against dressing Commitment Issues and Greener Pastures up as Standing by Conviction and Pursuit of Excellence. 

Between You, me and one man on Maui, it would demonstrate something less than Commitment to shake the Patriot albatross the moment a shot at a (relatively) peaceful life in a (very) beautiful place manifested.  And Commitment speaks directly to One Man.  But the flip side of the coin is that a bird in the hand trumps two in the bush, just to mix metaphors.  I resolve to remember the concept of Right Sized, mindful to neither shirk duties nor harbor delusions.  

Fret not about playing up or down a league, only start Playing.

I shall not cast my net among sinners and, further, I shall cast my net among Good Guy Bad Asses.  As a nod to Patriotism and the Works part of Faith, I shall present myself to serve as the Great Woman that patriarchal lore unfailingly holds stands behind a Great Man.  I know I don’t have to tell You but, for any Takers, I would draw attention to the WORLD of difference between it being unfailingly held that a great woman stands behind every great man, and a great woman standing unfailingly behind a great man.  In that latter case, both cease to be Great.  It is my understanding of Life and History, then, that I shall cast my lot among the Spiritual Warrior Class.

Puts a whole new spin on Come & Get Some, eh?

If this party isn’t moving past tea and crumpets — read that, typing and complaining — then whether it is the Good Guy on Maui or another Good Guy with another safe harbor, I will hunker down with a good ol’ reliable Second Liner.  We will do our bit to spread the word and to prepare, but we will do it without fanfare from a Way Cool Fort in a charming if contrived Safe Haven.  Remember the old Motel Six ad?  ”We’ll leave a light on for ya.”?  If the Home Team falls as far back as our figurative or literal neck of the words, we will stand ready, willing and able.  Prepared, Committed and Competent.    

I often wish sleep was optional, the Vanguard has so very much to do.  

Conversely, if it’s gonna be Perpetual Politics, I am totally up for riding this clusterfuck out with Goodwill and a Manana Mentality — instead of catching Bad Guys, catching the sunrise and the sunset and a nap in between.

I never know what the day’s writing will be about until I check in with You.  I wake up . . . GONE the routine that I knew for 20 years. GONE the future that I thought I was building when I towed the line on The Routine for 20 years. Like when a step you/not You thought — nay, KNEW — was there when you stepped confidently full-weight forward.  Face plant.  

Alrighty then.  You obviously didn’t bring me this far to leave me in the lurch, and I’m stumped. WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO?  

Every day, I’m not sure.  It is clearly not up to me to save the world or even “just” America.  I have little power and less control.  Equally clearly, God does not intend that I should do NOTHING.

I have some ideas about how to help.  Some people, at least.  Some places, at least.  But I cannot execute them alone, and I trust NO ONE.  ’Cept God, acourse.  I trust God.

I didn’t always trust God.  Not to say that if you’d ever sat me down under the ol’ klieg light and questioned me pointedly, I’da come up with something blasphemous.  I have always BELIEVED in God, and I have always FEARED God.  But there were plenty of years when you WOULD have had to sit me down under the ol’ klieg light and question me pointedly to get me to think about Him at ALL.  Once you did and once I did, though, I’da come up with good answers to honest questions about God’s ultimate greatness.

One of the coolest-slash-most-confounding things about talking to You directly is that I don’t have to recount the thought/prayer process that inspired me to google “color alerts.”  Cool because You ALWAYS know how I got where I arrived — You aren’t just always with me, ultimately, You’re always in the driver’s seat.  Like the driver’s ed dude with the extra set of brakes.

That’s what someone said to me the other day.  She was drunk, YOU know.  It was said with love, You and I both know.  But it was a true and important reminder, “You have no brakes.”  Not You, ME. 

Talking to You is the only time I can talk full-speed for as long as I want.  You NEVER tell me to be shhhh.  You NEVER tell me I’m a moron.  You NEVER say in response to my contemplation of Wrong and how to right it, “Oh, well, that’s just the way it is, nuthin’ you can do about it.”  

To the best of my knowledge, understanding and belief, You are NOT pleased about the number of ostensibly Christian people who are throwing up their hands and resigning ALL of us to a whimpy “It is what it is,” NOR are You pleased about the number of ostensibly good people who STILL and steadfastly decline to see that there is anything even much the matter.  To the best of my knowledge, understanding and belief, You have called upon me to do what I can to rally the troops, the People — ultimately, we are all your foot soldiers — unto godly attitude, aspect and action.

East, West, Sodom and Gomorrah versus East, West, Yin and Yang.  

This is not exactly a Head Scratcher.

HOW SHALL I PROCEED?

Unless I very much miss my mark, the next indicated action is to secure a real-life Partner . . . a good man who is as good as his word.  A knight in shining armor.

No mean feat, eh?

But that brings me handily to the CONFOUNDING part of the one-thing-leads-to-another serendipity that graces me when I endeavor to know and do Your will.  Serendipity=answers to prayers, in my world.  Accepted ANYTIME, with thanks.  Annie Lamotte said it well when she said that her two top prayers are “please, please, please” and “thank You, thank You, thank You.  I’m THERE.  But to try to RELAY all the God-coolness that lands a person in a whole new life with a whole new plot is to sound like a nut-period-case-period.  Which will be used against you in a court of law, right after they make you swear on a bible to tell the truth.

I have a sense that we are pressed for time . . . not You and I, but We the People.

So I’ll just sum up the current challenge thusly.  You and I and everyone who knows me knows that I don’t even GRAVITATE to Good Guys, much less run with them.  Knight In Shining Armor=Your pay grade, not mine.  I’m not even married to the idea.

I like the honeymoon concept, though — I’m thinking Maui.  Not only am I overdue in Maui, Maui is an EXCELLENT place for a strategy session — ask Barack Obama.  Maui means travel.  Travel means No Fly lists, and color alerts.  I don’t have to ask whether YOU know that there is a tidy sidebar “National Threat Advisory” on the Homeland Security page.  As casual as a smog alert.

Today is Yellow=Elevated, with this caveat: “The threat level in the airline sector is High or Orange. Read more.”  The security level is Orange=High.  Once upon a time, I read that orange is the color of madness . . . sounds about right. 

I ask Your protection and care with complete abandon, just like I learned in Your big book, and just like I learned in the OTHER big book.

Good thing no one heeds a word I say, eh?  A person could infer from the time between my last entry at K-God and this post that You and I haven’t been in touch, but that would be false.  Speaking of brown shirts — not that we were but perhaps we should — a couple of years ago, I got one at the David & Goliath store on Front Street in Lahaina on Maui.  A brown shirt.  It has the silhouette of a hand with it’s fingers crossed and the caption, “Me and God are like this.”  We are.

I ardently believe that the leaders of my country are Wrong and, like Denzel Washington in Crimson Tide, I must refuse to obey.  I must.  The importance of being earnest is universally acknowledged, yes?  Truthfully and ardently, I declare myself to be a Conscientious Objector.  

It being to the best of my knowledge and belief what God would have me do — you KNOW how He is about lessons for stiff-necked and hard-hearted people — I will officially seek Asylum for me and My Kind, whether in this country or another.  American leaders would devote billions of American taxpayer dollars, year after year, to ensure that Palestinians and Israelis have plots of land in which to be sovereign?  They can bloody well do the same for me and mine.  Me and mine don’t know each other yet, but we KNOW each other . . . we be God-fearin’ folk.

And God is NOT pleased.

Class Ac

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