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Category Archives: dreams

a bewildering, naked streak down a neon, public tunnel,
wearing only a flimsy wallet loaded with lies
and unfulfillable promises


when I was very, very young

I had this crazy idea

that “outer space” was so big

and getting bigger and bigger

because our words,



never died

never stopped

they just got bumped around

and spread out

mixed with all the other people’s words


… that it was all like a huge balloon

that keeps on filling up

with more and more air

as we all breath out the breath of our lives…


some hoped, some expected, some feared, some jeered … but so far it looks like it will all pass over uneventfully … except for the residue of the experience which will very possibly last a lot longer than the memory of the event in our lives – if only subconsciously perhaps.

on sunday morning many who in the secret place of hope and fear in their hearts who believed it would all end, or even hoped it were the truth, will most probably agree with those who scoff saying that they knew all along that it was not true … but inside?

a lot of what we believe is determined not by faith but by the apparent facts that seem to manifest around us and are either ratified or denied by the other mortals we associate with.  perhaps we may choose to deny it but to my mind it’s a very social gospel we live by – one that is rooted so much more in the natural than the spiritual or eternal.

me, i think i’m with those whose hopes were dashed

perhaps a fair amount of those who secretly hoped the world would end are those who really qualify – and perhaps by default – for a true spiritual faith?  perhaps they hoped not because of a theology or intelligence this way or that but because they are suffering in some way or another? – financially, emotionally, physically?  perhaps they are extremely lonely even in the crowd and the laughter?  perhaps just the thought of being taken out of here is such an attraction?  perhaps they truly feel like aliens in this harsh and cruel world?  they might not be able to admit it publicly but they may feel like they are unloved, lonely, desperate with very few to tell about it let alone understand.  perhaps these people long for a reboot of the whole damn thing?  for some a total change, however drastic and costly would be such welcome relief?  my faithful scepticism tends towards their world – especially at times like these.

for many of the brazen and outspoken, those who verbosely quote chapter and verse and pontificate on what the latest apostle/prophet/preacher/author last published … well, they too have fears and doubts – only their inner fears won’t allow them to acknowledge it.  but they feel safe inside their own minds because in this modern era volume is believed to be the all powerful answer

what is it about us that so easily wishes on things? why is it so easy for us to be effected by this kind of stuff?

as my blogname suggests, i am a faithful skeptic.  My views are not at all acceptable by the mainstream out there yet i too have a belief system and an extremely strong one at that.  this is what impacts me so greatly.  for me, having an extremely strong faith is not an achievement at all – as much as romantic love for another is not an achievement.  it just happens and we are swept along by it.  it tends to consume us.  and it leaks out for all except usually ourselves to see.  me, i am mostly shocked by my beliefs.  i have grown comfortable with them not because they are correct necessarily but because they are mine and they are all I have.  i doubt a lot and never stop questioning, but i cannot shake off my beliefs.  they sort of consume me

so, it looks like the world may not end today and for some this may very well be the end of their world

there is a song penned by phil keaggy long ago that has made an indelible impact on my thinking ever since i first heard it sung. the opening lyrics go something like this,

“who will speak up for the little ones?

hopeless and half abandoned

they’ve got a right to choose

life they don’t want to lose

i’ve got to speak up, won’t you?”

he was writing on the abortion issue as far as i can recall but it is nevertheless equally true for the lonely, the suffering, the desperate, those in despair and hopelessness, those whose personal reality clashes so dramatically with the theology and meme-artistry around them.

who will speak up for such as these?

me, i tend towards being brazen and self-possessed … but i’ve got quieten down a whole lot and speak up – won’t you?

we are led to believe we are free – in fact, we celebrate this as a huge accomplishment

some of the major powers around today feel fully justified in invading and sometimes destroying other sovereign states and cultures because they think, or believe, or simply declare that these states are not free …  and in doing this they seem to be declaring that they themselves are free and live in freedom

most even seem to feel that it is their duty to do as much – custodians of freedom

but what is freedom?

many believe they know what freedom is, that they are free, but are we free?

free from what?

free to move towards … what?

free to be free in order to…. ?

… and if we found freedom would we be able to recognise it as freedom?  i mean, if we don’t really know what we are looking for how will we know when we find it?

we in the christian church believe that it is our god given task to preach and proclaim freedom to those who are not free, those who are in captivity.  we believe that we have the ‘good news’ and that all others need to hear it.  we travel far and wide and at great expense to do just this

there are many who take strong exception to this  as they too believe they are free

so perhaps freedom is a state of mind, a personal perspective? … or is it?

perhaps some questions need to be asked?

questions like:  are we as the church (or any other belief system for that matter) merely helping ourselves and the people we are trying to help simply to adjust to a system that is corrupt and profoundly sick?   are we not speaking about and against ‘babylon’ yet simultaneously enjoying her benefits?

has the church become a tool of the world system it was meant to overcome and hand over to god?

are we even able to ask ourselves these questions?

perhaps that is an even bigger question?

and if we can are we able to also ask ourselves if it is possible that what is actually happening is that we might merely be setting ourselves and others free merely to serve a system of slavery to isolation and self indulgent pleasures?  … to be happy consumers – no more and no less?   …. consumers of commodities, yes, but also of doctrine, values, culture, etc

could it be that we sincerely believe that we are free but the only freedom we really have is to participate (perhaps unwittingly might i add), in the enslavement of ourselves and others to the very systems that control people, locking them in to that which subjugates all to being merely consumers … selling each other non-essentials as if they were essential … has marketing become the new evangelism, the new ‘gospel’?  …  are we unwittingly selling toxic non-essentials as if they were essentials and believing it all ourselves at the same time?  …  the blind leading the blind?

history seems to reveal that in the days of legislated slavery slaves, in their great distress wrote and sung songs that expressed a cry and a hope for a freedom not in or of this world but in and of the next, a hope in an ‘after-life’ wherein there was deliverance and freedom from the sufferings of the present   songs were filled with telling metaphors like ‘crossing the jordan’ ‘going through the pearly gates’ and ‘meeting in the clouds’ or ‘going home’ and these images were used to convey that for them the only tangible release from the bondage in this life was death in and to the present

but perhaps herein the definition of freedom, instead of being a clear understanding of another reality, needs to be revalued as it could perhaps be based on not much more than a desperate cry to simply be released from the present suffering and indignity

and if so, is this freedom?  is freedom merely an escape?

one cannot speak flippantly on these matters but maybe we can honour those who suffered so severely by learning something from their plight?

…  maybe we haven’t come to that point of desperation in our own thinking yet      maybe we should?

one needs to be desperate first but it’s not easy when life is good for us in our private little enclaves, and let’s face it, we seem to be very content consumers, don’t we?

nevertheless, freedom remains a huge concept and a treasured possession … but what are our songs of freedom?

do we have any?

and what would our metaphors be?

or perhaps we are too comfortable?


My wife is away for a few days so I’m sleeping alone.

I woke up on Thursday morning after a fairly short but deep and intense sleep.  I assumed this because the other half of the bed where my wife usually lies was still perfectly made up with only my side showing the regular albeit less than normal evidence of my having been there.  I had clearly fallen asleep and never moved much at all until I awoke.

On the way to school on this same morning my son had an accident on his scooter.  He collided with the car in front of him in the heavy traffic.  The scooter took a real beating as did my son and I am grateful that he only collided with one car.  He’s ok thankfully, getting away with only minor scratches and bruises.  If the scooter could speak I’m sure the story would be an interesting one.  But it could have been much worse.  I could have lost him – in fact, I could have collided with his absence every day for the rest of my life.  To get a phone call at 7am in the morning can sometimes really mess with your equilibrium.  It was a turbulent day of emotionally mixed metaphors.

On Friday and Saturday morning I woke up with the duvet almost completely off the bed and heaped in a mangled mess.  It looked like someone had had a full-on battle on the bed during the night.  My wife cannot be blamed this time – she only gets home tomorrow and I was alone both nights.  Even my 13 year old daughter who usually relishes the privilege of plundering my personal space when her mom is away slept in her own room.

So who was I sleeping with whilst I was alone?  And the battle?  What was I saying?  What was happening,  and who was it happening with?

The mysteries of duvet politics.

I wish the wishes would swish and sway
to wash afresh and not away
a rock in the sky is a sight to behold
but a rock needs to fly if the story be told
we can evolve into whatever we choose
or we can devolve into that which we lose
we can climb to the heights of the highest peak
or sink to the depths through the holes as we leak
to dream is a thing, the playground of kings
but the bump when we wake, is the sting of the thing
to bring it all down requires the wisest of tools
the pick and the spade are the choice of all fools
the float of the rock brings heaven to earth
the rock needs to fly for the dream to give birth

– Lloyd, April 2010

The travel agent never really left his office. He devoted himself to the study of all the possible destinations available. He was a busy man. He spend virtually all his time going through glossy books filled with glossy pictures of wonderful, glossy places. He constantly read through reams and reams of detailed information. He devoured the details published in text about every conceivable angle on all of the most amazing trips. He read through the many different ways one could get to these destinations. He became an expert in all aspects of the travel experience, the best available routes, all the possible connecting points, even the costs structures of each journey with all the necessary travel documents needed to cross each and every border. He had indexed all the significant places of interest. It was a huge and time consuming exercise. Many who had traveled before had taken pictures of their journeys. Many of these records were in glowing colour, some even in hi-tech 3-D, many had even taken detailed video footage sometimes even with recorded commentary included as they journaled their delightful experiences. He had even developed a photographic memory of the photographs he had studied.
He loved his job and it captured his passion. His mind was filled with details of so many possibilities. He so wanted to encourage as many as possible to go. In his mind he had been there himself – he was sure he had been there himself, but he hadn’t. …… isn’t he a bit like you and me?