“How often the priest had heard the same confession–Man was so limited: he hadn’t even the ingenuity to invent a new vice: the animals knew as much. It was for this world that Christ had died: the more evil you saw and heard about you, the greater the glory lay around the death; it was too easy to die for what was good or beautiful, for home or children or civilization–it needed a God to die for the half-hearted and the corrupt.” -Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory
Something to think
Cover via Amazon
about for this Sunday afternoon…
“Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.” -The Princess Bride
I recently stopped dating a woman who could have said this same thing. We connected on a variety of levels – from sex to intellect we found each other stimulating. I have always been so trusting with people that my heart was a public garden for all to have a share. After the past several relationship failures and losses of friendship, the walls are growing and my heart is becoming a secret. Trusting others becomes harder and my genuine interest in others devolves into selfishly preoccupied thoughts of the present, past and future. Surely there is a better way than me-first and high walls of distrust?!? I know that God has more for me than that but right now I am licking my wounds in high-walled secret garden- there hangs a sign, “stay the fuck out”.
by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I was pointed to this poem while reading a book which is about a community and church that I am a guest of for the summer. Mr. Hughes grasps the decay that abounds where I temporarily reside. Decay, it’s everywhere. From the dope dealers on the corner to the couple down the street that argues over the cost of weed, moral decay pervades. Yet, in the midst of such decay, there is life. Houses are rebuilt. Struggling addicts, like myself, find needed help and support. There are cracks in the sidewalks and flowers grow between them.
The beginning of a bourbon crew always starts with friends desiring to know the mysterious ways of bourbon and a minimum of three bourbons to sample.