Rebirth of Born Again – The death and life of faith

“Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.” – Elie Wiesel, Night
scenicreflections

Spiritual. More specifically, christian. Even more precise, Born Again christian. These were my labels, my cult, my passion. It sounds good, it sounds right, but the reality wasn’t so cut and dry. It wasn’t right, because I wasn’t. I had to lose my faith, get put through a hell on earth called divorce, burn in the fires of addiction, be put on the cross of heartache and betrayal, lose everything to find the real me. Not the me created by the fan club of a very generic “God”, but the me that’s reality. Only as I went through those fires did the impurities of my fake belief come to the surface. I hid in my religion, pretending everything was fine and arguing with grandiose and severe speech that condemned other points of view and defended mine. During this humbling process of losing everything I believed in, I was aware of all my pride and boasting. I was aware of not seeing people for who they are, where they are. Of misjudging, not only the good but the bad. My daughter was molested by the janitor of my church. The same man I reached out to and helped. The one that I let into my family on the pretense of rescuing him. I didn’t see his evil, because I hid my own. So consumed with my point of view, blinded by my weakness, I had no defense against the evil coming to me through the channels of my misguided belief. I’m recovering from this, my family still suffers from the effects of both this man and my collapsing faith.


I’m rebuilding my faith, but it’s an entirely new creature than the previous abortion of truth. Here’s the premise: I have a rubber meets the road faith. I cuss when I pray. “Big Daddy, thank you for this fucking beautiful day”. I say it normally, why would I be different when I pray? I believe that if someone is talking shit about you, you should confront them and if necessary, deal out an ass whooping. If you hurt my family, I’ll hunt you down with a never ending quest for vengeance. If I do something worthy of an ass whooping, I humbly bow to receive it.I’m tired of playing nice little church boy. I’ll call us out on our bullshit. I’ll let you know my weakness, my sins. I’ll not hide how imperfect and hideous my thoughts are. You’ll hate me or love me, it matters not. This is real, this is my faith. These are my new tenets. My meekness isn’t weakness. I’ll defend my life, my household, my family, and my friends with my life. I’ll be plainly honest and transparent. I give you freedom to be you, just don’t fuck with me.

Also published in Broowaha
01122012 
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Rebirth of Born Again – The death and life of faith

“Never shall I forget those moments that murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to ashes.” – Elie Wiesel, Night
scenicreflections

Spiritual. More specifically, christian. Even more precise, Born Again christian. These were my labels, my cult, my passion. It sounds good, it sounds right, but the reality wasn’t so cut and dry. It wasn’t right, because I wasn’t. I had to lose my faith, get put through a hell on earth called divorce, burn in the fires of addiction, be put on the cross of heartache and betrayal, lose everything to find the real me. Not the me created by the fan club of a very generic “God”, but the me that’s reality. Only as I went through those fires did the impurities of my fake belief come to the surface. I hid in my religion, pretending everything was fine and arguing with grandiose and severe speech that condemned other points of view and defended mine. During this humbling process of losing everything I believed in, I was aware of all my pride and boasting. I was aware of not seeing people for who they are, where they are. Of misjudging, not only the good but the bad. My daughter was molested by the janitor of my church. The same man I reached out to and helped. The one that I let into my family on the pretense of rescuing him. I didn’t see his evil, because I hid my own. So consumed with my point of view, blinded by my weakness, I had no defense against the evil coming to me through the channels of my misguided belief. I’m recovering from this, my family still suffers from the effects of both this man and my collapsing faith.


I’m rebuilding my faith, but it’s an entirely new creature than the previous abortion of truth. Here’s the premise: I have a rubber meets the road faith. I cuss when I pray. “Big Daddy, thank you for this fucking beautiful day”. I say it normally, why would I be different when I pray? I believe that if someone is talking shit about you, you should confront them and if necessary, deal out an ass whooping. If you hurt my family, I’ll hunt you down with a never ending quest for vengeance. If I do something worthy of an ass whooping, I humbly bow to receive it.I’m tired of playing nice little church boy. I’ll call us out on our bullshit. I’ll let you know my weakness, my sins. I’ll not hide how imperfect and hideous my thoughts are. You’ll hate me or love me, it matters not. This is real, this is my faith. These are my new tenets. My meekness isn’t weakness. I’ll defend my life, my household, my family, and my friends with my life. I’ll be plainly honest and transparent. I give you freedom to be you, just don’t fuck with me.

Also published in Broowaha
01122012 

Prairie Fire – Pressing through the tough times

“As if you were on fire from within. 
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.” – Pablo Neruda

Falling down on the floor of my potential


Feeling the weight of my air

Escaping slowing from hope

I press back the fury of slipping dreams

Knowing I can do more than breathe

I grab at the invisible never releasing

Lifting up my head I refuse the loss

I will again ignite my destiny

With the passion of prairie fire

Prairie Fire – Pressing through the tough times

“As if you were on fire from within. 
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.” – Pablo Neruda

Falling down on the floor of my potential


Feeling the weight of my air

Escaping slowing from hope

I press back the fury of slipping dreams

Knowing I can do more than breathe

I grab at the invisible never releasing

Lifting up my head I refuse the loss

I will again ignite my destiny

With the passion of prairie fire

The Life Of A Wave – Earth, Air, Fire, Water interacting

“Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain.” – Sun Tzu, The Art of War

 

Coerced from my sleep

Way, way down deep

Titans of earthen pallor incessantly push another element


Barely appearing in my journey

I can’t be seen clearly

Wild winds whip and angrily push another element


Orange temper far below

Angry kicks not softening the blow

Molten flames melt resistance pushing on another element.


Tired of being treated so

I rise up and with thunderous roar

White water crashing the pushing epitaph of another element

The Life Of A Wave – Earth, Air, Fire, Water interacting

“Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain.” – Sun Tzu, The Art of War

 

Coerced from my sleep

Way, way down deep

Titans of earthen pallor incessantly push another element


Barely appearing in my journey

I can’t be seen clearly

Wild winds whip and angrily push another element


Orange temper far below

Angry kicks not softening the blow

Molten flames melt resistance pushing on another element.


Tired of being treated so

I rise up and with thunderous roar

White water crashing the pushing epitaph of another element