Perfection

I really feel sorry for someone trying to create a masterpiece…or wait on one.  Nothing is perfect in this world and waiting for or trying to create perfection in anything often ends in utter frustration and disappointment.  Look hard enough and you can find a flaw in anything. 

So why do we do it?  Why do we demand perfection when we know it is impossible? Even the best gymnast’s 10 are scored on opinion and under a micron microscope a mint condition silver dollar has striking flaws.  So why seek perfection when it really doesn’t exist?

Oh but it does my friend….it certainly and most positively does.  I know this because I have witnessed perfection; I have felt the strength a truly perfect item possesses; a strength born of silent solitude and unwavering confidence. 

I am a bit tired of seeking perfection myself.  I have searched myself, I have searched the living and the dead and I have cried to the Heavens to deliver perfection to an imperfect world.  For it seems that only perfection will satisfy the inquisitive and doubting minds of the masses.

That’s OK: let the masses have their doubts.  For when perfection arrives, when they are faced with the ultimate truth, what will their response be?  That and this is the only judgement needed and opinions do not matter, just the facts mam.

I see the signs, I read the faces, I hear the chatter, I smell death but I also sniff victory.  Strange to me… how people wonder about perfection.  Does it really exist?  I submit to you my friend…does it really matter?  We all have different definitions of perfection.  One guy might think his ’57 Chevy is perfect and another prefers the perfection of his Harley Super Glide.  What matters is that you are satisfied thru and thru and you have satisfied a burning desire inside you that needed the quenching only perfection can provide.  When you have the pedal to the medal in that Chevy or have the wind on your knees on that Harley nothing else matters…at that moment in time…all is perfect.

The sad but good thing about perfection is that once you experience it you realize you may never see it again, but you know what it took to get there and you now have something new to strive for.  It is a feeling that no drug can mimic.  It’s a glimpse of what it is like to personify perfection, for we can never fully attain it.  Born with too many flaws, perfection can only come from above. 

I am a very perceptive man.  I observe all of my surroundings before I make a decision…when given the time.  And lately what I have observed in my own little version of this world is a land of people who long to return to the good ‘ol days of trust and friendship, but are fearful of the sacrifices it may take to realize that dream.  The sad but good thing is that we must realize there will always be those that don’t share in our dream, but we can rest easy that we have the strength of numbers.

Look around this country…really look and you will see the good ‘ol days everywhere.  I make friends everywhere I go and at the same time I have learned over the years to recognize danger.  It is a prayer I had long ago…to show me perfection one time, just one time Lord, not so I can believe… for I believe, but rather to show me what to strive for in my life as I seek this fleeting quest we call perfection. 

My Favorite

I was recently asked, what was my favorite writing.  With hundreds of postings and many more handwritten scribblings I can’t even count that is initially a hard question to answer.  But in short order the answer was obvious to me.

All my life…like many of you, I have wondered and been puzzled by the world’s religions.  How they can all revolve around similar ideals but have varying beliefs.  In 2008 I had some thoughts that the Lord blessed me with and I tried my best to express them in a writing called “Life’s Fountain.”
I feel it is one of the best messages I could ever receive from the Lord, as it helped settle and answer questions I have always had…and it turned into a decent little story…I think anyway.

It’s the weekend...enjoy it to its fullest.  But at some point take a few moments to read “Life’s Fountain” I hope it helps shed light on a dark area of world culture, cultures that at their core share in the foundation of life’s fountain.   

Re-post Intro from 2017:
Many times I have questioned the world's religions.  I came away often wondering how they can be so different, yet at their root, many have the same foundation.  This posting was originally written in 2008 as I was blessed with a glimpse of how God can put things in simple terms and story lines to solve complex thoughts and issues we do not understand.  I have traveled many parts of the world and I know good people live everywhere.  My thoughts return to an unselfish belief in that religion is ceremony, but worshipping  is an internal respect and searching for that undeniable force that surrounds us, is inside us, and will return to us in mystical and majestic glory one day in the not to distant future.

In the meantime cleanse your hearts, open your minds, and renew your faith and you will find many of the questions that you have will be answered in the most unexpected of ways.  Please, enjoy this reading that the Lord has blessed me with delivering to you... once again. 

                                 Life's Fountain

Four men were walking down the streets of the city; one from the north, one from the south, one from the east and one from the west.  They were all heading to the same place, the fountain in the central park.  Arriving at the same time they were standing in the four corners of the fountain.  As they gazed at the rippling waters of the ever-flowing fountain each one had the same thought about the fountain’s life-giving water. 

As they looked down into the water, they each noticed something different, the color of the water. The man from the north was cast in shadows, so to him, the water was brown.  The man from the south was in the bright sunlight, so to him, the water glistened gold.  The man from the east looked to the shallows, so to him the water was green.  The man from the west looked into the depths, so to him, the water was blue.  So here they were all at the same fountain, but each one with a different thought of the fountain's water.

However, as they each looked at the water flowing from the fountain's peak, they all had the same vision. The water was crystal clear and glistened in the bright sunlight. Each one believed in their thought of the fountain's water, and each one was correct in their vision of the water flowing at its' peak.

After this each continued his walk; north to south, south to north, east to west and west to east with their thought and vision to share with others. But they never knew or shared with each other; so four thoughts were created out of one vision.

As generations past the sons of the men returned to the fountain; one from the north, one from the south, one from the east and one from the west.  As they walked up to the four corners of the fountain the water was still and dark. The water barely flowed from the peak, trash floated on the surface, slime covered the fountain, and a thick layer of muck rested at the bottom of the once pure fountain.
As if in unison they all had the same thought. To fix the fountain's pump, clear the surface, scrub off the slime, and remove the muck and restore the fountain to the purity their father's had told them about. So each one entered the water at the same time and looked strangely at each other. The man from the north began to fix the pump, the man from the south began to clear the trash, the man from the east began to scrub off the slime, and the man from the west began to the clear the bottom.
Once the pump was fixed, the trash removed and the slime scrubbed off they noticed the man from the west was still clearing the bottom. The muck was thick and the water deep. So the three men looked at each other dove to the deep depths of the fountain and began to help the man from the west. The four of them working together were able to finish in a short time, and as they reached the bottom of the fountain, they were amazed at what they found.

The bottom was covered with riches of gold, silver, jewels of all kinds and tokens from all parts of the world from people who had visited the fountain over time. The men surfaced and thought of what to do. Their traditions held these were the wishes, respects, sacrifices, and prayers of the many people who visited the fountain over time. They decided to remove all the riches at the bottom and display them around the fountain for future generations to see and admire.

As they started their task people began to gather from all over the land and began to help the men recover all the treasures at the bottom of the fountain. Over time the pile grew high and surrounded the fountain for miles. No one could believe the mass amounts of what the fountain held. But soon it was all recovered, and a majestic sight was now surrounding the fountain.

Now the four men talked and decided to clear paths to the fountain. One from the north, one from the south, one from the east and one from the west leading to a single path around the fountain for future generations to visit the fountain. The people from the north and west would keep the fountain working and the bottom clear. The people from the south and east would keep the surface clean and guard the fountain and its' treasures.  After this was done the four men stood at the fountain and admired what they had done;.they were proud of their work, and the people were happy.

Over time treasures grew, and life was good for the people of the world as other places began to be cleaned and returned to the purity they once held. The fountain started something that grew giving the people of the world a common goal and an understanding of how the world once was.
The fountain of life continued to work and remain clean forevermore, and the treasures surrounded it for miles and miles everlasting.

Spread Peace and Love will follow.

(c) Bryan A. Stross 10/21/ 2008  Reposted & Edited 11/24/2017

Reflections:
2^nd Kings Chapter 12, Ezekiel Chapter 33, Ephesians Chapter 1, Hebrews Chapter 2.

All I Can Be

I often wondered why people keep diaries.  Why spend time documenting the past only to spend time reading it in the future?  Seems like a waste of time to me. Why not spend every moment on the present, in the hope of shaping a better future.  You cannot change the past, so why re-live it?

Today it seems like there’s two factions of hate out there stuck in the past.  One wants to erase it, the other wants to constantly revisit it.  Neither option is healthy.  History is our heritage.  Documentation clarifies our lineage.  But most importantly our history and the symbols and monuments that classify our heritage are an irreplaceable string woven into the threads of our American tapestry. 

Our security blanket is unraveling.  And it has nothing to do with Republican or Democrat, Conservative or Liberal but rather how our own foundation of law has been twisted against the trust it once protected.  Over time our enemies realized they couldn’t beat us on the perimeters, so they infiltrated from within. 

What a better way to tear down a nation… than to erase the monuments of its history?  We learn from our mistakes and we grow from the experience.  Future generations can learn from our history just as we use recorded history to unravel some of today’s most perplexing mysteries.  If we tear the map in half we’ll never find the treasure.

This poem is a bit of my personal history; when the mood to write something fresh escapes I have pages and pages of writings from my past.  This one is on the flip side of the page that the previous post was on.  I didn’t turn that page over for a day or so, but when I did I was pleased that it was date and time stamped.  A snapshot in time of exactly what my mind was thinking and my eyes were seeing.  I hope you enjoy this sliver of thought from a jail house diary.      

“All I Can Be”   August 24^th, 2005 9:10 AM

My heart beckons for a new days call

I don’t want to be here when the leaves fall

Each day I awake I see a fresh sunrise

It reminds me of new beginnings, a sign to the wise

The smoke drifts up high from the power plant stacks

They are off in the distance like the cranes on the rivers back

A flag flies in the middle, surrounded by it all

I long to hear your voice, but I cannot call

My view is wonderful, the bridges and the ballpark

But it only makes my mind beckon more for a spark

I see the homeless as they come and go with the flow

And I’m humbled knowing soon I’ll be part of the show

But the Lord will deliver me, His words a promise

At night the words comfort me, I miss your sweet kiss

Alone and scared of what might become of me
I have to stay strong and hope you’ll write me

I pray and read a lot and think about the past and future

All the while knowing it is the present we need to nurture

It has been over a week now I have been in this slump

We’re locked down because of some chump

And who do I see but my ‘ol buddy CO Culton from 2 East

I spent a lot of time there, he’s seen me quiet & as a beast

This morning a fresh attitude made me pause

Been a break in my case, finally some movement of cause

I do not know what final outcome awaits me

But new hopes and challenges I know I’ll see

In His Glory I’ll hope to lay a final decree

And be all… that I can possibly be.  © BAS    Luke Chp. 12:32-48

A Cradle of Just Us

Explanation – A Cradle of Just Us

So yesterday’s post garnered some discussion…and a few questions.  So in order to answer them I will offer the following explanation(s).

My first response to the question…What were you in jail for? Is simple…read other posts in the blog and you’ll find out.  In the upper left hand corner of the blog page there is a search bar….type in the word jail and several postings will pop up.  Scroll to the last one called a “Fathers Part” and you will get a glimpse of what I went thru 12 to 13 years ago.  To better understand read “Bipolar Disorder and You.”  But to get to the point I was cut off while driving by what I perceived was a drunk driver.  I proceeded to follow, flash my lights, beep my horn and try to get this person to pull over, which they finally did, at the emergency room entrance to a hospital in Jacksonville, Florida.  I got out of my car and walked up to the open window and my “attitude” immediately changed.  Inside the car was a single lady in her twenties fearful for her life on the phone to 911.  She was afraid of me and my actions, which I guess I can’t blame her.  As I said my whole attitude changed from aggression to compassion…she was crying for God’s sake…what would you do?

Well, I immediately apologized, that I thought the driver was drunk or something and I said if you’re scared of me roll up your windows…and she did.  So, I got back in my truck and as fate would have it, couldn’t find my keys.  So there I sat…and that’s when the police showed up.  One thing led to another and I was charged with impersonating a police officer, carrying a concealed weapon and involuntary unlawful restraint, all of which are serious charges.  I was hit with a massive bond which I could not pay and had no means to hire a lawyer.  So in jail I sat for my case to wind its way thru the system, which by law can take six months.  The whole time your public defender is merely a messenger for what the State throws at them as a plea deal; if you don’t take the first one, then in another month they lower the sentence and hope you’ll bite on that one.  The only problem is that when you feel you're innocent, no option of guilt is acceptable; and that’s where I was at with my case.  After six months the charges were dropped, I agreed to an evaluation period that really had no time limit…but all the charges were dropped and I have no felonies on my record and was cleared of the evaluation period in 10 months.  

There’s a lot more to this story, but I made a promise to several inmates at the Duval County Jail and that was that I would never ever forget the cradle of just us that exists for many people trying to navigate a legal system that requires you to prove your innocence.  When you do not have the resources of proper legal advice and are exposed to a corrupt money making machine also known as our criminal justice system, you’re just another head in the count, just another number adding to the state and federal funds these county jails receive.  And trust me unless they’ve changed, Duval County Florida has the highest bond rates in the country and the worst record of extending jail times of those waiting on a trail.  They do this by convincing inmates that can’t bond out to waive their right to a speedy trial…once that happens you’re stuck like Chuck…they can keep you for years, and it happens every day in Duval County AKA Jacksonville, Florida. 

I would not waive any rights…and it pissed them off…that’s why they had to settle for my plea bargain…innocent.

I tried to help my fellow inmates…many could not read and write very well much less understand their cases.  I couldn’t  get them the help they needed then, but I promised some of them I would tell their story, in the hope of instituting change in a system that cherishes the dollar more than another man’ s freedom.  It is just one more injustice that has creeped into what once was a noble endeavor…now it is corrupt with laws, regulations, procedures, red tape and money grubbing.  I know I got off track there but its perhaps the most important part of this story…the realization that there are different standards for wealthy and poor and the poor suffer for it…well at least until the scales are balanced.

So that’s a couple explanations…but the one I really want to share is this:

Why does the third from the last line of the poem “Jail House Music” not rhyme like the rest of the poem?

Answer:  That line stands out on its own…no other words can describe the horror of that day. 

A deeper answer is this:  I had been in jail for almost six months fighting my case at the time I wrote “Jail House Music.”  I know the tragic story of Eric’s son oh to well.  And on that night when I needed consoling I found it…I found it in a beautiful but sad song.  And it made me realize that my troubles were insignificant to what Eric and his family suffered and continue to do so.

You see one of us experienced the lowest time of their life in a jailhouse….the other from a penthouse.  But in both cases it was music that had a common thread…a thread listened by one and created by the other.  Eric Clapton experienced true heartache and depression over his son’s death…anybody would.  But he used that tragedy to create something that he hopes will somehow help others who have suffered the loss of a loved one…especially a young and innocent child.   

I don’t know if “Tears in Heaven” has accomplished that…but my gut tells me it has more than Eric will ever really know.  All I can say is it helped me realize my troubles are minor compared to losing a young child…and it also helped me realize that if others out there can overcome their problems, I can overcome mine.

Thank you Eric for a wonderful heartfelt and soulful message.  It is the only explanation worthy of words.

“He dances with the birds, he soars with the eagles and he watches over his nest…day and night.”