Thoughts,Songs,Writings,Rants,Encouragements, and Life

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Deep Thoughts

"As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint."

-Jack Handy

Friday, September 29, 2006

Part one-(Fiction)

My girlfriend begs me to blog everyday. She needs something to read everyday. She needs something to ponder or laugh at. She has been begging me recently to write her a continuous story. This is that story. Fiction, but my heart, my passion, my life, my dreams, and perhaps some great imbellishment to small things that have happened or I hope would happen.

A tired mid-July sun was beginning to fade upon the bare hills of Maupin,Oregon. This lack of light caused shadows crawl across the breath-taking river valley set before me. This lack of light, began claiming every little crevice it could find to dwell in. The temperature was cooling quite quickly now, more comfortable than the ninety-seven degrees it had been earlier during the day. A soft and equally persistant breeze kissed my semi-tan face, awaking me from a few moments of peace, with the river that I have come to know and love as the Deschutes.

Three of my high school buddies were somewhere behind me, trying to set up a very old and hole plastered World War 2 tent that one of our grandfathers had kept for some reason that escapes me at this percise moment. The laughing that was occuring behind me told me that this was going to be a fun weekend. Perhaps this weekend would change my life. Perhaps this weekend would yield some unknown and unplanned adventure. At the moment however I skipped a smooth silver-dollar sized rock across the Lower Deshutes before me and then I turned to begin helping my friends unpack and begin cooking dinner.

We had been planning this trip for years. We had all been on this river before, though we were young and stupid then, we were even more stupid now to think that we could master and perhaps tame this mighty river flow. The rapids that caused our stomachs to rocket up into our mouths and brains, while threatening to escape through our nicely gelled hair that we cared so much for and hopelessly wished the girls cared for as well. We were hoping that we would make it through the white capped foam ahead. We did. But that was when we were younger. Now, those little pockets of river just cause us to scream at the top of our lungs in pure joy and excitement, knowing that if we were to fall from the ride our ego and pride would be broken and someone might be on edge for a few minutes, that is until the next pocket of excitement came and then it was the same sensation all over again.

The plan was to put in just below Shear's Falls, past the old Indian fishing platforms. The ones where nets were waiting to catch some of the finest salmon in all of Oregon. I wish I could have actually witnessed the Indians work their magic, but I am certain I will probably never see that form of beauty in the States again.

Four days and three nights was the intended and hoped for time line of the rafting and fishing trip. The goal was to bond again as friends. A dude weekend of sorts. A time to find ourselves and our lost friendships. We had come in expectation of rekindling something of our past memories and good times. We had come, because we had promised to do it six years prior to this date.

The four of us, Justin, Aaron, Billy and I, were just putting the finishing touches on the tent, when I had a brilliant idea. I had heard of others doing it on this river as well as various other camping trips. I suggested that we all sleep under the brilliant night sky and its millions of stary waiters and waitresses of beauty and glory. All we needed was the tarp we had brought with us for the tent. We could sleep all four of us comforably on the square sheet. So we immediately quit the preparations for the tent and laid out our sleeping materials.

Billy and Aaron then set out on looking for firewood and kindling. While Justin and I began making preperations for dinner. An easy one; hot dogs, corn chips (with salsa), a handful of baby carrots each, and for dessert; smores.

While the other two were away Justin and I basically pulled all the necessities for dinner out of one of the two huge Costco white coolers, we had brought with us. We really didn't bring that much in the way of food, but we did have a lot in the area of liquid form. We had figured we could catch quite a few fish between the four of us that we had no need for too much food. I am glad that the Deschutes is a year round designated fishing area, because if it hadn't been, we would have been illegally hooking and cooking the well over 20 keepers that we ate and bagged that weekend.

Supposedly Billy and Aaron had gotten spooked or had spooked each other, because they came flailing back to the campsite like little first-grade girls running from the nasty second grade boys back in grade school, screaming all the way. "Holy CRAPS!" and "You will not believe us when we tell you's", strolled off into the night skies and down river to the unsuspecting wildlife and other campers, if there were any still around after the shouts that had just occured upstream.

Apparently there had been some form of creature hiding in a bush real close to where Billy had been gathering wood from. He heard a rustle and jumped back a few feet. Aaron was a few paces away and saw that Billy had been spooked by something, so he came over to where Bily now stood motionless. "Don't move, maybe it wont see us," said Billy. Aaron chuckled and then realized that Billy wasn't kidding. Again a rustle came from the bush and small duck bill portruded from the shrubbery. It hissed at the two unsuspecting friends. Both turned and ran. They had never heard of a hissing duck, but they were not about to stick around to find out what the little winged creature was so cheesed about. No one saw the bird come out of the shrubs, cirlce around it and back into the mass of twig to settle down again with her two new twin boys. Now when the duck was beginning to warm her children again, this was about the time Justin and I greeted our two friends back to camp with very little wood let alone twigs in hand. They proceeded to tell the story of the hissing duck. Justin and I laughed, hard. We decided it was too late for a fire, so we just at marshmellows, graham crackers, and baby carrots for dinner and prepared for bed.

That night when I settled in for sleep, I laughed at the events of the evening. I thought that we might actually find ourselves laughing with and at each other more throughout the next few days. I stared up into the vast heavens above and was enthralled and taken in by the bigness of it all. I felt small. I felt seperated. I felt detached from something, not God. No, God and me were okay at the moment. It was something else. Something smaller than God, but bigger than the falls crashing down a few hundred yards upstream. Something.

Someone made a quacking noise, we laughed, lay flat on our backs and relaxed as we watched the night lights in the sky just as a young child might watch his crib mobile, utterly fascinated until we all fell into sleep.

A few good men I would love to see Live

Peter Mayer
Shawn Mullins
Edwin McCain
Paul Simon
Jacksone Browne
Billy Joel
Craig Carothers

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Out Beyond Ideas

Out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

Out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
The world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase
each other, doesn't make any sense.

Jalaludin Rumi

Oh, fishing my friend.

I warned you.

I am now obsessed with fish.

I was before, but now I am really longing to fish.

It's pretty bad.

I saw the Oregon liscense plate with the Salmon on it (which by the way, I wonder if most owners of those plates realize that Oregon Salmon are in fact an endangered species.) and was dreaming of being somewhere else.

You can now begin praying for me.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Ezekiel 47:9-10

9 There will be swarms of living things wherever the water of this river flows. Fish will abound in the Dead Sea, for its waters will become fresh. Life will flourish wherever this water flows.10 Fishermen will stand along the shores of the Dead Sea. All the way from En-gedi to En-eglaim, the shores will be covered with nets drying in the sun. Fish of every kind will fill the Dead Sea, just as they fill the Mediterranean.

I may have found my own special place for fishing. A little hole that I have been to twice now. A place dubbed "The Sure Thing", by my father and I just this past Monday.

Monday, dad and I went for another little indulgence in the Nehalem. I improved on my cast. At first I stunk. I had forgotten a few things about casting. Fish were jumping every which direction just taunting me, laughing at me and my horribly placed fly's. I was being to cocky, I thought I could actually do what Brad Pitt does as Paul in A River Runs Through It. I was captured this past Thursday night. I ate a fresh Steelhead my father had just caught the day before off of the Deshutes. And then my lovely girlfriend Amber and I popped in the movie.

I was smiling the entire time. I was enthralled into this world of fishing, fly fishing at that.

The scene where Paul (Brad), plays the fine fish he has hooked through the rapids down the river, captured my heart as a fisherman. I want to do that! Holy Cow Tails that was awesome.

Anyway, I was trying to be too much like Paul and not so much like Ben. I was tangled up for the first half an hour of casts. I felt like I wasn't going to catch anything, then things changed.

I took a short rest. Ate a nutri-grain bar and some string cheese.

I had brought with me my MP3 player, put it on "shuffle all songs" and set to fishing again.

The first song was The Blues-by Switchfoot. I ended up catching two fish during this song.

I was getting into a groove. The part of the river I was tango-ing with was a little bit faster, but I found a calmer rapid and began to try my luck there. This is where I caught the above fish. I also got into a stance, like a football or basketball defensive stance. I was on my tip toes and bent knees. I was playing the water like a mast violinist plays his tunes. I was in the game! I was good!

Throughout the next two songs, ( If you care, There are giants in the sky-Into the Woods and North Dakota-Lyle Lovitt)I proceeded to catch three more "real deal-fish", not hatchery product.

In all, I enticed a few three inchers, an eight incher, and a six.

About half an hour later dad and I decided to scope out another "spot" down the river. At first this new spot was not yielding anything. The sun was going down over the beautiful evergreen valley we were in. I was in a good place. I had forgotten about life for a while. I was in a happy place, (I am sure I could fly if I tried to) and no one could pull me out of it.

I ventured away from my father and found my own little "pocket" further down the river. Not that I needed the space, but just wanted to find a good place to begin my fly fishing dance again.

Well I found the place. I knew it was the place when I found a little Banded Wolly Bear Caterpiller, soon to be named Stanley, waiting for me.

I said to him with a smile, "Hello Stanly."

He gave no reply back.

I placed Stanley in my vest pocket and began to fish the area.


Fish on!

I ended up catching two fish back to back. Pow and Crack! (That was for all you old school Batman fans)An eight incher and a ten, for all of you who were wondering.

I was getting good at this.

And all the while, Stanley sat on my shoulder watching. Yeah, he had crawled out of my vest pocket and sat on my shoulder calmly watching.

The sun was setting and getting dark, so I headed back to my father's "pocket" and we set off towards home.

Once again I enjoyed my day of fishing. Three hours in all. Seven fish caught. A new friend named Stanley. And a greater respect and awe for God's creation and gifts to us as human beings.

I will now continue to dream about the next time I get to go fishing. Prepare yourselves for much more fish propoganda and poems.

I am a fisherman: fly and Bait, Spinner and Hearts.

Until the next catch.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

An old Favorite

Monday, September 25, 2006

I love these shows!!!

A few of my friends and I love this show. We quote it often. In high school my friend Josh and I would use everything that was happening in our lives and somehow there would always be something in Boy Meets World that would help life make sense. Certain things in our lives would happen and we would think "man, this happened to Corey and Shawn once." And then we would have to wait til that episode came on to see how they delt with it. (we always delt with it before the episode came)

I recently purchased the first three seasons of BMW and I am looking forward to when the next few are realeased.

Amber and I try and watch a couple episodes a night. Remembering the good old days, and really wishing life could be that easy again.

Okay. Seriously, who doesn't love this show? This is totally the guys show of the century. I love the old Johnny Quest and the new Johnny Q. I used to come home from school and watch this show on Cartoon Network. Now, they have moved it over to a new network called Boomerang. I was able to watch this show with Clark in India. He may be five, but he liked the show. We would watch it sometimes when it came on at 6.

The Quest adventures are some of the coolest. All the gadgets were cool too, but who could ever replace the wonderful mutt Bandit! What a great name for a dog and what a great dog on the show.

Oh yeah, who wouldn't want to have a good friend who is Indian as well? Hadgi! The boy wonder of the show.

Man, I wonder if Johnny Q is out on DVD. I need to shell out a few bucks for those. Good old fashioned entertainment right there.

Friday, September 22, 2006

New holiday

this is a benism at its best.

I was in the car with my mom and girlfriend Amber the other night. We were driving up to Hood River to where my dad was staying. I was trying to convince my mom that they should go to the David Wilcox concert in January. She said they had no money to go. So I said I would pay somehow. I would make it a holiday for them.

The holiday is "MOFA"

It is a day (January16th) where mothers and fathers are shown appreciation for who and what they are. It is also a take your parents to an amazing concert day.

Let me know if this day works for all of you out there. Is this a good time for the "MOFA" day???

Tell your friends about MOFA it will be big!

Coffee mugs and greeting cards coming soon!

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Coming to a church near YOU!

David Crowder

I get to go see Crowder and his wonderful band tomorrow night! Way stoked...been about two years since I have seen him live. Gonna be good times. To bad he isn't headlining the show.

More Peter Mayer

Monday, September 18, 2006

We will not forget you

Woke up dreaming of a special place
Where the sunrise warms up your face
In a town where they all know your name
When out walking, they all smile and wave

I'm remembering a village not so far
For simple reasons it's captured my heart
Though you can't get there by driving in your car
You'll need a passport, but not your credit cards

When I hopped off the ferry to the shore
You greeted me like no one had before
Nothing could prepare me, for what was in store
You said "Welcome home, I've never meant it more."

Klemtu oh Klemtu I will not forget
Klemtu oh Klemtu we can not forget
All the memories and moments that we had
All our happy times, even ones so sad

Like second pond, basketball, fishing and the crabs
Two hour boat rides, dock jumping, and crafts
Mafia, 90 pounders, stories, and smores
Kids Club, camping, canoes, and jokes galore
Just Be, and that good o'le FTB
These are the things I loved the most
And I will remember them further down the coast

Klemtu oh Klemtu I will not forget
Klemtu oh Klemtu we can not forget

Klemtu oh Klemtu now we must leave
But I hope you know that you go with me
I will always have these fond memories
And I hope to see you again, my Klemtu family
You are in my dreams, my thoughts, and my prayers
I hope to see you all again next year

Klemtu oh Klemtu I will not forget
That night when you said
"Love you guys" in the tent
I'm pretty sure that is why I was sent
So I thank you for the money that you spent
And all the prayers that you faithfully said
Cause Klemtu and I will not forget
No, Klemtu and I will not forget

Klemtu oh Klemtu I will not forget you 3x

Sunday, September 17, 2006

God is a River-Peter Mayer

In the ever-shifting water of the river of this life
I was swimming, seeking comfort; I was wrestling waves to find
A boulder I could cling to, a stone to hold me fast
Where I might let the fretful water of this river ‘round me pass

And so I found an anchor, a blessed resting place
A trusty rock I called my savior, for there I would be safe
From the river and its dangers, and I proclaimed my rock divine
And I prayed to it “protect me” and the rock replied

God is a river, not just a stone
God is a wild, raging rapids
And a slow, meandering flow
God is a deep and narrow passage
And a peaceful, sandy shoal
God is the river, swimmer
So let go

Still I clung to my rock tightly with conviction in my arms
Never looking at the stream to keep my mind from thoughts of harm
But the river kept on coming, kept on tugging at my legs
Till at last my fingers faltered, and I was swept away

So I’m going with the flow now, these relentless twists and bends
Acclimating to the motion, and a sense of being led
And this river’s like my body now, it carries me along
Through the ever-changing scenes and by the rocks that sing this song


God is the river, swimmer
So let go

God only Knows-Switchfoot

Saturday, September 16, 2006

David Wilcox on You Tube

Okay so I just recently found this wonderful site of You tube. I was thinking, man I wonder if they have any Wilcox on there...and bam, three songs come up! I was excited. This guy is a great writer and story teller.

I am also so excited to say that he will be back in Oregon on the 12th and 13th of January. I am stoked for this. If you want to come along let me know...this show will NOT let you down. You are in for a treat when you see him live.

Here are a few of the videos. One of them has some add in the middle of the screen, don't worry about it...listen to the music being played!

Jackson Browne

I recently went out and purchased Jackson Browne's new album Solo acoustic 1 and for one week now my ears have been on a joy ride through the history of Jackson's wonderful music. From songs like "These days" which Jackson wrote when he was sixteen, to songs like "The Birds of St. Marks" and "Fountain of Sorrow," will have your heart strings pulled in wonderful directions and then gently placed back into the propper order as he ends the album with "The Pretender" and "Take it Easy."

This is an album not to miss out on. I can't stop playing it. The live recording alone makes it a favorite for me, but the fact that he shares little stories and thoughts between the songs makes it even more impressive and homely. I can't wait for the 2nd of the "solo acoustics" to be realesed.

Aslo if you purchase this album at Best Buy, (shameless plug) there is a special second album that comes in the package. It is a one hour interview with Jackson. He opens up about the album and what it means to him and also gives us a little insight into the future recordings he is doing. There are also six tunes on the album. Five from the acoustic album and one that is not released I don't believe on any album, called "The Rebel Jesus," a Christmas tune that is very poignant and cuts with precision on the seasonal perspectives around the holiday times.

Needless to say I thouroughly enjoy Jackson and went on a hunt for more of his stuff.

Turns out that my parents had a DVD of Jackson's. An old Disney feature. (back when Disney used to put on some really amazing concerts. Well the DVD filmed in 1993 is amazing. Live shows. Live interviews. Insights into some of the songs. Songs sung in Jackson's own home. Special guest appearances as well, make this DVD a really good buy and show.

I have to thank my father for getting me into Jackson's stuff. I have been a fan sinc e I'm Alive" came out in '93. Since then I have dabbled with a few of Jackson's pieces, but never got to close. I stuck with the classics and what I heard on the radio. Turns out Jackson is amazing. When dad and I went fishing a few weekends ago we listened to this album (this is what caused me to later purchase it.) I heard the song "These days" and the story behind it and I immediately fell in love. Now when I hear the song I think of Fly Fishing on the Nehalem.

Thanks dad for the influence you have on my musical choices.

Happy Feet-The penguin movie!

Seriously I want to see the new movie about Penguins coming in November. It has an all star cast, including Robin Williams, Elijah Wood, Nicole Kidman, Hugo Weaving, Hugh Jackman and many more! Seriously I doubt that we are going to be dissapointed with Warner Brothers new adventure into the cold with these lovable dancing and singing new characters.

See you at the Theater.

Watch and enjoy!

More Here at the Website

Go ahead and laugh

Friday, September 15, 2006

Tom Crawfords falling

Outside it's Korea and snowing.
White flakes float in under the eaves
And slide sideways into my window.
Inside I'm talking to this big Asian ink brush
about a fish I'd like us to draw.
I've loaded it with the blackest ink
And now I'm holding it, poised
Over a clean sheet of 3-fooot-long, white paper.
I'm keeping my voice down
Though I'm pretty excited
And the snow falling outside doesn't help
But here's what I say, "You know
Already from the way I'm holdong you
that I'm not an artist."
All right, that's out in the open.
It can't hurt, I figure, to own up
To what the brush knows anyway.
"I'm asking for just one terrible black fish," I say
And in ch the brush closer to the white paper.
I know it's cheap of me
To imagine the brush could actually be temtped this way.
Outside snow's beginning to pile up
On the metal railind, the patio.
The bare branches of the maple below my apartment
Look like tall zebras. Very beautiful.
In the distance the buildings of Kwangju
Grow even bigger, darker, in the falling snow.
"This fish, I only want to look at it!" I implore.
"If not the whole fish, then at least some part of it,
Draw me an eye for god-sakes!"
I hate it when my voice gives me away
Like some old man who's discovered
He's on the wrong bus.
In my hand is a long lenght of yellow bamboo
With a shock of horse hair black with ink.
Made in Korea, it says,
And not the Romantic Perioud. I let that go.
there will always be the detractors.
Outside it's growing dark, Presbyterian
As the red, neon crosses begin to come on
Across the city.
I put my tongue on the glass window
To feel the cold,
To feel what snow feels.
If I could leave my body right now
Where would I go mroe amazing than this-
This black fish for company,
Alive down there somewhere in the paper
and me, up here,
Happym alone in the snow.

-Tom Crawford (taken from My story as told by water-David James Duncan)

Thursday, September 14, 2006

The River Now

By Richard F. Hugo

Hardly a ghost left to talk with. The slavs moved on
or changed their names to something green. Greeks gave up
old dishes and slid into repose. Runs of salmon thin
and thin until a ripple in October might mean carp.
Huge mills bang and smoke. Day hangs thick with commerce
and my favorite home, always overgrown with roses,
collapsed like moral advice. Tugs still pound against
the outtide pour but real, running on some definite fuel.
I can’t dream anything, not some lovely woman
murdered in a shack, not saw mills going broke,
not even wild wine and a landslide though I knew both well.
The blood still begs direction home. This river points
the way north to the blood, the blue stars certain
in their swing, their fix. I pass the backwash where
the cattails still lean north, familiar grebes pop up,
the windchill is the same. And it comes back with the odor
of the river, some way I know the lonely sources
of despair break down from too much love. No matter
how this water fragments in the reeds, it rejoins
the river and the bright bay north receives it all,
new salmon on their way to open ocean,
the easy tub returned.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Remembering Klemtu

Five years ago I hopped into a van
To travel to a distant land
Out of Oregon, through Wahsington
And into the land of the Canadians
It was on the B.C. coast
On a little Island called Klemtu
Where I met Brandon

Brandon and I become good friends
We played basketball in the evenings
Fishing during the day
Swimming at second pond
Talking of life and goals
I never knew if had made an impact
Until it was time to go home

As the ferry was leaving the shore
Brandan was on the dock waving
He was smiling and looking sad
I knew that I needed to come back
And Brandon knew this too
So he threw me his sunglasses
And said keep them until you come back

Five years passed away and the memory Brandon
Never was far from my brain
I dreamed of going back to Klemtu
To see Brandon, Ryan, Nick and others too
I knew I had to come back and see them
And this year I was able to go
I was one of the leaders this time though
14 students, five kids, and nine adults

We packed up in our nice big rental vans
Ready for the adventure that lie ahead
The bonding had begun, the stories had begun
Moments of laughter and tears were coming
Moments of memories remembered for years were coming
we were stepping into a two week histroy making time

You see, this year was different than all the rest
In fact some might say it was really the best
The friendships have grown
The hearts are tender and ready
The stories are going to be told
Children smiling after singing a worship tune
Students begging to be read the Bible to
Fishing stories that will be remembered for years
A camping trip filled with feeling out of place
Because we thought we were in the way
Who knew it would be the best trip the Klemtu people had ever had

God knew
God knew that this would be the trip of a lifetime
A moment for things to change
A team would bond over the smallest thing, jumping off a dock
God knew
God knew that the Klemtu people are waiting
Waiting for the moment and time to talk
Waiting for the right time to chose
Waiting for the moment when they would chose you
To send this team all the way to Klemtu

In a town where fishing presides the most
Basketball coming in second really close
We were able to show God's love and at the same time
See the love of God shown to us
Everybody waves in the Klemtu land
They know everybodys name and story
And I wonder what it would be like to live like that each day
Where I am being watched and everything I say is under magnifying glass
Klemtu taught me what family is like, even when they aren't related
I was welcomed off the fairy this year with a phrase I will never forget

"Welcom home Ben, it's been to long"

Yes I saw Brandon, he is doing fine. He has got a new job.
And a child on the way. I only saw him for one day.
Ispent all the rest of my time with Duckie, Ryan, Shane, and Clark Jr.
and of course many others too.

I will not forget them.
I cannot forget them.
Each morning I wake up dreaming of them
And fishing with them
Oh Klemtu I will not forget you
I will not forget you

And the night that you said,

"love you guys."

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


I was thinking about doctors a few days ago. The role that they play in todays society is a big one. The hands of a hundred doctors have saved millions of lives. And yet, doesn't it seem like they make too much? (besides sports stars, plastic surgeons, the government and dentists?)

The reason for this questioning is the fact that at the moment I do not have the wonderful package we like to call Health Insurance. I need it yes. To I believe in it? No! I understand that I have no control over my life and the circumstances that may or may not happen to cause me to have to see a doctor for a "split tongue or severed elbow joint," but I'm safe arent I? Wrong, no one is safe. I may think I am safe. I may think that my driving is amazing and wonderful and perhaps pleasing to God, and so His Mighty hand of justice wont beat me down and crush me to bits, (even though he could at any moment do just that!)

I just find it hard to pay so much cash for something that could or wont happen in my lifetime. I COULD end up spending a fortune on a really big security blanket like Health Insurance, I could spend my time asking for God's protection and healing, I could look at the rest of the worlds suffering and just live with it.

I am reminded of Clive Owens line in the film Beyond Borders, where he is having a conversation with Angelina Jolie about illness and sickness in some foreign country. He asks he flat out, "Have you ever just had the cold? Not popping any pills, not going to a doctor, just have the cold? These people do it all the time."

Seriously that blew me away. Here is a man in another country trying to fight for the lives of the dying and oppressed. Here is a man who seems to be bitter at the rest of the world for what is happening to the REST of the world. Here is a man who has given everything he has for the lives of others, not his own selfish ambition or want. Here is a man I can admire.

I understand that there are organizations known as the Red Cross and others out there fighting for the rightings of the injustices and pains in the rest of the world, but I am still not comfortable and probably never will be giving my money to a doctor in a white coat and that freezing stethascope that they must pull straight from the cooler just before entering the room, diagnosing you with some easily currable disease, writing something in sandscrit on a small piece of paper, charging you TEN bucks (if you have Health Insurance) and sending you merrily off to the local Rite Aid to get your quick fix.

One hundred years ago, did they have all this? I know we have progressed in this area throughout the years, and I am grateful for that, but what was it like then? What was it like a thousand years ago? Havent there always been doctors or healers or even Christ for that matter? (How many people were healed just by touching Him or looking at Him? Do you ever wonder about that? I do)

My question is this, did they (they, the people) call up the doctor or fetch the doctor. Then the doctor would grap his black bag, preferably leather, and pull the stethascope out of the ice chest and run on over? And he would diagnose little Timmy with the flu and then turn to the parents and what? No signature, no paper, no insurance, no bill. I bet they worked something out. I mean that is how he made his living, but I am sure every case had its price. Every different family had its price as well. Could you imagine living that way? By how much people thought your work was worth? I mean let's say I walk into a record shop, I am looking to buy one vinyl album. Billy Joel-Glass Houses or Jackson Browne's-Running on Empty. I have a quick listen to both on the turn-table and find that I like Jackson way more than I like Billy. And yet the price for both is 15 bucks new. (used is a different story though.) One is obviously better than the other, but the same price? Come on!

I may be a little of my whack right now. I might not even be making sense, but everything has it's worth. Doctors have their worth, but I wonder if we pay them too highly for what they do. What if they were paid higher to go into the world? What if they already are and I don't know it. What if they actually made a difference? What if we didn't have to have something to sign before they could proceed with surgery? I mean honestly? Money over a mans life?

One thing in the old movies worries me. We never actually see any form of payment when the doctor comes to call. Do they even get paid? Is it in dollars or in cows and eggs and chickens?

Health Insurance, is it worth it? To some yes. To me? Only when I need it!

Monday, September 11, 2006

A borrowed thought

"God lies in wait for us with nothing so much as love, and love is like a fisherman's hook: without it he could never catch a fish, but once the hook is taken the fisherman is sure of the fish. Even though the fish twists hither and yon, still the fihserman is sure of him. So, too, I speak of love: he who is caught by it is held by the strongest of bonds, and yet the stress is pleasant; he who takes this sweet burden upon himself gets further, and comes nearer to what he aims at, then he would by means of any harsh ordinance ever devised by man.
Moreover, he can sweetly bear all that happens to him; all that God inflicts he can take cheerfully. Nothing makes you God's own, or God yours, as much as this sweet bond. When one has found this way, he looks for no other. To hang on the hook is to be so completely captured that feet and hands, and mouth and eyes, the heart, and all a man is and has become God's own...Whatever he does, who is caught by this hook, love does it, and love alone..."

-Meister Eckhart

Saturday, September 09, 2006

The song of wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry on a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth like stars were fleckering out,
I dropped the berry in the stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire flame,
But something rustled on the floor
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom's in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips, and tkiae her hands,
And walk along long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

-W.B. Yeats

Thursday, September 07, 2006

A lifephrase

"Rock band T's and an old pair of jeans
These are just two things that make up me
Take them away and I am no longer free,
To define the way that other people see,
The beauty of style that I display with ease!"

-Benjamin Christensen

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Today I recieved a phone call from my mother. The call was very joyous for me. You see a few days ago I ordered some new books. I have been patiently waiting for they came!!! WOO HOO!

1. Lila an inquiry into morals-Robert M. Pirsig
2. River Teeth-David James Duncan
3. My life as told by water-David James Duncan

And the kicker!

MY mom bought me a whole bag of new socks!!! Yipper Skippy! I love new socks!

Monday, September 04, 2006

Fly Fishing

Today I finally got the opportunity to go Fly Fishing with my dad. This was actually the first time that I have been Fly Fishing. I admit I should have gone sooner. I should have tried sooner...but now, oh now, I know how wonderful it is to a hold a flyrod in hand and cast like a pro in one of Oregon's rivers.

Ever since I read the River Why recently I have been itching to go. So $24 bucks and an hour drive later dad an I showed up at his little hole on the Nehalem.

Luckily he had taken me to the church parking lot to practice first...otherwise I would have sucked and lost more than the two measly fly's I lost because of the much needed practice.

So here we are dad an I, father son time, standing side by side, casting and setting the bait for the unknowing, but freakishly smart fish below the waters surface. A few casts in and I get my first hit. Holy crap how exhilerating that was. I wanted to pee my pants with the rush of adrenaline that flew through my veins at that percise moment. I was hooked!

Dad began point good possiblities for fish to hide or hover around. And guess what! He was right most of the time. I couldn't quite land one though. I had seen dad for the past 45 minutes land a few 6 inchers...I was getting somewhat frustrated, but knew that I probably wouldn't catch anything. (dad didn't catch a fish until a year after he began Fly Fishing)

Now for the cool part...

I decided to move on and find my own sweet spot. I needed to find the pocket. I needed to find my space and my time. I needed to think and also be able to cast without worrying about lasoing my fly into a tree or some sort of shrubbery. And I found it. The river split into a couple different directions. My father and I were heading upstream agaisnt the currents. I found this little form of rapids that spewed into a dead calm area. These rapids wouldn't even classify as a one by the way. I positioned myself above the rapids and began to perform the ritual we call Fly Fishing. I set the fly on the top of the rapids and let it float down into the "V" that the water forms when coming into or out of flowing water, and BAM!!! I got a hit! I almost had it on...first cast in my "pocket" and I snag a fish. Too bad that I sucked at the time with pulling my fly line in fast. I was too slow.

Then came the second of my perfect casts. No joke! I was learning the precision tat is needed in this sport. (yes I did just call it a sport, so eat it) This time the fly didn't even make it halfway down the little section I was looting. Bam! Another fish, this time I was ready. I set the hook in its mouth and pulled it in...I got me a fish! Woo Hoo! I was no longer thinking I would be discouraged after the day, I was thinking Pro Tour, my own boat, making my own fly rods, and dreaming of living in a cabin not to far from this river...I was HOOKED!!!

I only landed one more in the next few hours, but I still considered the day a good one...and now I cannot wait for my next Fly Fishing adventure...