My Young Apprentice

I received your letter this morning. You write that you have met a woman who stirs your interest, and that your mother believes she is a gift from heaven. Yet you ask: “How can I know if she truly cares for me, or if she is a harlot seeking only to steal my soul?”

You have asked me such questions before, and though I hesitate—for I treasure your soul and wish no harm upon you—I feel compelled to answer. I fear you will pursue her, and perhaps follow too far, only to discover the truth at great cost.

So bind my words to your heart, that you may be spared her poison should she strike while you are intoxicated by her spell. Investigate your mother’s hopes if you must, but be wise: your soul is at stake. Do not enter the arena unprepared. Clothe yourself in the full armor of God, for if I am right, she has been sent only to test you.

Do not be deceived. Her snare may unfold slowly—days or weeks of seemingly innocent conversation before she strikes. Do not fall in love with her; do not fall at all. Learn her nature, but remember: the serpent desires your soul. She is not what she appears to be, and she does not play at chance—her prey is almost always claimed. Stay above her on high ground, and watch her ways carefully.

Speak little, if at all. Listen twice to her words. To subdue you, she will first give freely, and you will be satisfied. But soon you will crave more, at any price. She will offer more, but then reveal her own needs. Her voice will be soft, innocent, alluring—yet it is the hiss of a serpent. If you are unprepared, temptation will disarm you, and she will own your soul. Captured, you will seek only to please her, willing to give more of yourself for another taste.

Do not forget: the harlot, like fine wine, intoxicates. You will want more of her at any cost. You will promise anything she desires, yet she will demand more of you—until your strength is spent and your spirit depleted.

Remember my words, Apprentice: the prey never commands the captor, and the captor always rules the captive soul. If you feed upon her bounty, you will be lost. Exit her door while you still can. At first, your escape will be hidden in the darkness of your own soul, but if you delay, it will be taken from you, and no way of escape will remain. Trust my words. 

Exit while you may. Hold fast to them as a sword—strike quickly, be done, and you may yet win the day and live to fight another.

Affectionately

The Real Battle

The Real Battle Is Within You
As I sit down to write, battles and fires are raging across America's cities and in me.
Jesus said that the hearts of many would grow cold in the last days because evil would become rampant and people would say "Yes" when they really mean "No", and a Lie would be considered a Truth. We appear to be in such a time and place as he described, and I, like many of you, find myself growing weary and cold, having weathered this evil generation, watching the deterioration since my birth. Coldness seems like a place of refuge in such a case, and Hate is following her lead; both are deterrents to fighting well and surviving. I want to fight well and to do more than survive; I want to thrive! So it follows that I don't want to grow Cold or fall into the dark well of Hate. It appears the first battle is spiritual, as the battleground is invisible in the Heart and Mind.
We are instructed by Christ's Apostles to ready ourselves for battle; to put on the full armor of the spirit of God; that we might stand and fight the Good Fight in the evil day. Let that day and hour not be like a thief in the night; it appears night has come, this is not the day or hour to hide among the cliffs. Ready yourself if you haven't, begin in your heart and mind; humble yourself before the Lord, seek His face, turn from wickedness, pray for you, and then for our land.

Your prayers are needed and can turn this madness around; hate will only fan the flames. I plan to love, not hate; think, not react.

May peace and safety be restored in our land.

Abandoned Cathedrals

For me, abandoned places are not sites of gloom, but vessels that carry the past into the present. They are mysterious and beautiful, speaking in quiet volumes to the deepest parts of my soul.
This image reveals a place that once lived only in my imagination, now brought to life in yours. How marvelous that the unseen can be shared.
Across the world, abandoned cathedrals are taking on new forms—transformed into hotels, flea markets, coffee shops, or swallowed by the march of time. In my fictional vision of Duke Chapel in Durham, NC, its walls crumble as the world around it changes. Some may call this morbid, but to me it is an awakening—a reminder of the fragile line between life and death, presence and absence.
From these places, I have learned the brevity of life, the inevitability of its final breath, and the necessity of moving forward. I now see the past not as loss, but as a celebration of existence. For even in its passing, I lived—and I live still, to remember.

Cold Turkey

When I first did this piece, I had my mind on the narcotics problem we face in America, especially the drug this piece is named after. 
Now, as we face a pandemic requiring people all over the world to wear a breathing mask, it takes on new meaning for me. Those who are addicted to OxyContin and the like are suffering right now as their suppliers are facing the same unseen killer the world wrestles against.

While lack of availability is a unique opportunity to come clean, it comes at a very high risk to the addicted, physically and psychologically. Having been legally addicted to OxyContin and a number of other pain meds over the years, managing my chronic pain condition, I have become personally familiar with withdrawal; the crawling of my skin and the climbing of the walls in my bathroom scared my family and me more than one night. John Lennon's song "Cold Turkey" best represents the struggle of those who go cold turkey; whatever the reason, the experience is real and frightening.

Please remember them kindly as they face their demons and cold turkey wreaks their brain and twists their bodies from the inside; they are not the enemy, they are the weak among us. Let us love and extend a hand, rather than sucking the remaining oxygen from their room.

For Jonathan

I took this picture on a cold winter day in 2016 at Flushing Meadows Park in Corona, New York. Corona is a small town in Queens, best known for the Lemon Ice King featured at the end of the sitcom The King of Queens trailer. I grew up within walking distance of both the park and my favorite year-round snack. Having just finished the flavor of the week, I came upon a flock of seagulls by the lake. I named the main subject of this picture Jonathan because it was the first thing that came out of my mouth as I quickly knelt down, focused, and took the shot. I first read about Jonathan in the '70s while attending Halsey Junior High School P.S. 157 in Rego Park, N.Y., while in 7th grade. I remember him soaring above the clouds, ever seeking greater heights. In my mind's eye, I flew next to him, dreaming of what would come to me in life if I were as bold as Jonathan. Now, over 45 years later, I still seek greater heights in my understanding of life, God, and creation; Though I have soared higher than I had ever imagined, I have yet to find the ceiling. For our creator, our Heavenly Father is truly infinite.

Quotes from Jonathan Livingston Seagull

“Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull’s life is so short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long, fine life indeed.” 

"His sorrow was not solitude, it was that other gulls refused to believe the glory of flight that awaited them; they refused to open their eyes and see.” 

(Richard Bach, 2006, 25)

Get the Book, "Jonathan Livingston Seagull" at Amazon