"Write, write, write," he said. Ignore the wind and the waves and write.

Houston's books available from: Your local bookstore, all on-line bookstores or click here at: (Just Dust Publishers)

Thursday, September 9, 2010

A few smooth, round stones

At Devil's Elbow, a cove on the coast of Oregon, a good-sized stream flows into the Pacific ocean. Drift wood and rocks washed to sea in the river form an apron around the sandy spread of beach. Black, grey and buff colored stones roll in the waves and sand--nature's rock tumbler--until the balls shine round and smooth.

I've often thought of the power of each of these stones. In the right sling shot...
As David walked through his stream, he picked up a few stones like these for use against the enemy.

I've picked up a few bits of figurative ammunition in life myself. Just a few for use against the evil one. Some may be of help to you as you walk, or perhaps be inspiration to gather your own as you wade through the stream. I don't know.

I don't know a lot of things. I prayed when I was young to receive wisdom. This, after I saw Solomon received all the wealth of the world on top of his request for wisdom. I'm guessing my childish motives weren't pure. Never are. Nevertheless I finger a few stones in my ammo bag.

I'll share one with you now.

Know the truth.
Yes, it can be known. No, it is not relative--almost never. Yes, the truth matters, and no, not knowing does not mean it won't hurt you. Truth is. Lies want to be. Time will reveal both. Count on it.

More on this later.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Everyone walks--until they don't

Did you ever see an infant ‘walk’? If a baby is held up with feet dangling and then is lowered until the feet touch a surface, a reflex causes the baby to push-off, as if walking. Of course, the little, curved legs could not hold the weight of the child until much later, but are programmed to walk at birth.

Recently, my elderly mother was given a prescription that requires for her to be in an upright position for her body to be able to able to absorb the calcium of the medicine into her bones. For this reason and others, bodies are made to grow strong when we walk.

From birth to death, we walk. In life one must walk, until one cannot. When this happens, the end of life is typically near. Like being thrown in a lake, one must swim or drown, in the same way, one walks or lies down to die.

I don’t mean to be obvious, and you must realize I am leading to the parallel ‘walks’ we have in heart, mind and soul. Also, and not to be obtuse, these walks don’t simply mimic the physical realm; they converge into one path, one effort, and to one end.

Do you remember many of your dreams? If so, you may regularly find yourself moving down a river or road. Maybe you fly through the sky. All of these symbolic movements typically represent life walk to the dreamer. I’m a civilized sort who began walking down a hall of a house sometime in my twenties (at least, that I can remember) and through the next forty years my dreams return repeatedly to that same house. It is huge and, if I know you at all, I’ve probably seen you in one of the rooms or concert halls. (I told you it was big!)

Our dreams tell us what I am saying; life is a journey, a path, a continuous, non-stop stream of existence. One must walk it since, even if we stand still, the path moves; like the moving sidewalks at the airports. I say this not to urge walkers to fervent strides, but to consider your walk. Either way, unconscious and curled in a ball or dashing through the days, you will reach the end of the walk.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

To those who walk

A doctor told me after a knee surgery five years ago that my life now consisted of taking care of body. “It is a full time job,” he told me. I tried to listen, thinking this was advice more that prophecy. Soon I earned the reputation as ‘the ideal patient’.

A few months later, as my husband, Mark and I prayed, he made this petition, “God, please heal Shelley and remove her pain so she can think of someone besides herself.” I jerked my head up and almost laughed at what I assumed was an unintentional insult, and then I realized his prayer was earnest. He meant no judgment, but the fact remained, my life had become totally inverted.

Five years later, I still repeat the same prayer. Remove my pain that I can refocus on ideas of eternal matter and relationships of worth. However, mostly, I muddle about in the self-absorbed and pain-drug-induced musings of my mind. At the same time, I have come to savor and reflect on the nuggets I gathered when I could walk, literally and figuratively.

Oh, I still can walk a little and do, it’s just not a pretty sight anymore. I also know my inabilities will certainly overcome my abilities someday until I walk no more. However, I do not write with warnings to insure one can continue to walk. That is not the goal, if it were; the tree of life would have been left unguarded. (I’ll explain that later.) No, we will all come not to walk. The goal, then, is to gather gems of value as you do walk so that someday, you rest well. This I know.

Through incidents and recent conversations I am moved to write to those of you who still walk. I can’t imagine having the strength or mind to do so with my current limitations. However, yesterday, my son, Ian counseled me to set small goals, but to move on. This is the goal I have set for today. To write a journal for those of you who still walk.