Farewell Signs

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."  -Ecclesiastes III-

"Good writing takes more than just time; it wants your best moments and the best of you."

-Real Live Preacher, RealLivePreacher.com weblog, 10-09-04-
 
"But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think."

-George Gordon Byron-
 
The signs are everywhere and no longer possible to ignore.  I knew it was happening when I couldn't generate a blog concept regarding the Islamic Cultural Center at Ground Zero.  What started as a tiny seed of thought took root and today came full circle during my jog.  It's time to stop blogging and start my book.
 
Rambings of a 138 has been my baby.  It's also been my refuge; my hiding place, if you will, from bigger and better things.  Those who know me well, know that the entire concept for this blog came from a personal journal I began over two years ago.  That journal was raw and uncensored.  It was full of anger and opinion and politics and religion.  I began that writing as a means to vent.  I had a million thoughts a minute running through my mind about a thousand different topics.  This little laptop helped me make sense of it all.  Then somewhere in the venting, I had the idea that it would be fun to make my opinions and thoughts more public.   Ramblings of a 138 was born.
 
A title for the blog was my first challenge.  I had plenty of material.  By mere chance (or so I thought) I got my first glance at the number 138 by taking an online IQ test.  You and I both know my IQ isn't anywhere close to that, but that number has come to mean things to me you can't imagine.  I see it everywhere, stamped on everything.  That number has become a guide that leads me in the right direction and on occasion has even been a warning that thwarted harm.  I can't explain it.  You'd have to live it.  Recognition of that number has even caught the attention of an illustrator that is working with me on a children's book project.  It just simply shows up everywhere.
 
Some of the topics I've covered have served as a mirror for my own spiritual journey.  The venting I did initially, has given way to a sense of peace and understanding.  As much as I value my own opinion about things and have always wanted you to value them as well, I suddenly don't feel the need to share them publicly.  As much as some of my topics have been thought-provoking, there have been times when I fear my writing has also stirred some dissention.  There was a time when I thrived on that kind of attention, but times have changed.  Now I'm realizing that discussing the same things over and over again, be they religious or political in nature, simply get me nowhere.  There always have been, are now, and always will be people of varying opinions and I no longer feel the fire within me to tilt the scale in my favor.  
 
So what happens next?  (You MUST be on pins and needles by now).  Well first of all, the blog site will remain open for you to come back and visit any time and I hope you will.  Revisit old posts and see if they stir your soul.  For the forseeable future, any posts you see from me will be in the form of excerpts from my book project.  I'm going to keep the title close to the vest for now, but the subject will be about my own personal spiritual journey from childhood to present.  Look for the finished product at your neighborhood bookstore sometime this decade. 
 
I already have a children's book in the illustration phase and hope to submit that sometime this year or early next for consideration.  Self-publishing isn't out of the question.  I have at least one other book idea on the table and like all people who love to write, I want to write the great American novel.  Look for THAT at your bookstore in about, uh...........well, it's gonna be awhile.
 
I want to thank each and every person who ever read an entry, visited the site, checked out my profile, became a follower, left a comment or even just checked a box.  This blog has been a labor of love for me and seeing a new follower or comment always made me smile.  It just wouldn't have been as much fun without my few faithful fans.  There is one person I'd like to single out.  This blog was an instrument in leading her to me and she has been my biggest fan, bar none.
 
Linda, you have inspired more of my writing than you could possibly know, even before I knew you were reading it.  You gave me courage.  The very best thing that came from this blog or any of my writing was that it led me back to you.   That little 138 led me to my true love at long last.  Together we'll embark on a whole new adventure and that includes your writing as well.  I love you.
 
So my dear friends, I sign off filled with joy of the expectation of new challenges to come.  Please come back to visit, and I'd love a comment of "so long".  (I don't care much for good-byes).  It's been a blast.  For our next virtual party, let's celebrate a book signing!
 
Love and Light,
Matt

There Is A Place

There is a place in my soul:


     Where the grass is green and soft and lush,

     Where the smell of freshly cut lawns and hay sing inside your senses,

     And the fireflies dance an amber dance across the openness.

There is a place in my soul:

     Where the snow is pure and white,

     Where the wintry air cleanses your heart and mind,

     And your eyes are engulfed by the essence of light.

There is a place in my soul:

     Where a brilliant palate of a thousand hues brings heaven near,

     Where you can taste the air and its hope of Fall,

     And your ears are delighted by the crisp sounds ‘neathe your feet of those who lived.

There is a place in my soul:

     Where vast fields of waving grain invite your touch,

     Where brooks invite your toes,

     And shapely clouds await your gaze.

There is a place in my soul:

     Where My Love lives,

     Where every memory, every taste, every sound, every smell, remind me of home,

     And there is my peace.

There is a place on this earth:

     Where my soul belongs and my true love lives,

     Where I’ll be returning,

     And the odyssey complete.



- Matt Leatherwood and Linda Faris -

Poetry In Motion - A Repost

Authors Note:  This is a repost from earlier in the year.  In typical Team Matlin fashion, Linda had a feeling today it should be reposted.  We don't know why, we're just following her/our instinct.  Hope you enjoy.  -Matt-


A little over a year ago, I had the opportunity to go to Nebraska and spend a little time at the orchard. That place is amazing and always gives me some level of peace. One morning, very early, I walked outside to take a stroll along the trees and just take in some cold Nebraska air. As I walked out the door, I was met with a beautiful “dusting” of new snow. During my short walk I met a wandering raccoon who came near enough to almost touch. When I returned from my myopic adventure, I walked inside and what follows is what came out. Don’t ask me when I turned from Philosophy to Poetry. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.

I awaken to a dusting of fresh snow and stand on the walk, pondering my first step, unretraceable.

The snow unmarked, untrodden like the life of a newborn baby having not made his first step.

How shall I leave my mark on the glistening snow? Which direction shall I take? What mark will I leave? Will someone be able to follow my trail or will wind and time erase the prints so that each may leave their own?

The raccoon ponders not his path, which step or direction. Minding only which way leads to peril, becoming prey, not predator. Each step by instinct, not thought.

And as I ponder which step, I start in any direction, following only my heart, leaving my trail, my path, my mark. And looking back see that wind has already covered my footsteps. Having no clear retrace by which to return, my choices remain open in any direction.

Every step a new path, a new adventure. Walk on. Leave a trail. Make a NEW trail. Walk on.


-Matt Leatherwood-

Closer Than We Think

"Choose being kind over being right, and you'll be right every time."       - Richard Carlson -

The last three or four weeks have been the beginning of a slightly new direction for me spiritually.  It's a little hard to explain so maybe I should just start at the beginning.

I recently posted a new status on my Facebook page that resulted in a response I hadn't expected.  It clearly offended and even angered some people I respect and whom I consider to be friends.  It was a post of a religious/spiritual nature and, as usual, was meant only to invoke thought and reflection.  It did much more.  Not long ago, I would have dug a trench, stood my ground, and defended my position as "right".  This time I did something different.  I offered an apology and deleted my post.  I spent two days agonizing over backing down like I did.  It seemed to be the right thing to do, yet it was not part of what has historically been my nature.  I think that's changing.  There's more.

I remember distinctly the day I "became a Christian".  The details of that time aren't nearly as important as the change it initially brought about in me.  During that time, although it wasn't always comfortable, I professed my new-found faith and tried to convert non-believers with my "testimony".  After all, my way of belief was "the way" and I felt it necessary to share that with others lest they spend eternity in hell.  I also remember the period of time when I began to study about world religions and physics, thereby casting doubt on my faith.  The details, again, aren't so important.

In my journey from Atheist to Agnostic to Christian, back again to Agnostic and "finally" to  Gnostic, I have also tried to share my new discovery and "knowledge" with others.  I've argued against the religious establishment and pointed out what I felt were inconsistencies in religious dogma, etc.  I felt like it was my duty.  I felt like it was wrong for people to live, what I believed, was mythology.  I see now just how arrogant that stance was.  But wait.  There's more.

A couple weeks ago I went with Linda and a friend to see an independent film, The Nature of Existence, by Roger Nygard.  The web site is worth checking out and I actually recommend the film.  http://www.thenatureofexistence.com/.  Again, details aren't important.  Roger traveled the globe over a period of 4 years and interviewed a variety of people regarding the nature of our existence.  He asked people on the street, scientists and religious "gurus" a series of 85 questions regarding God, religion and our existence.  The film was interesting, but it was what Mr. Nygard said after the film during a question-and-answer period that caught my attention most.

After being asked how making the film might have changed him, Roger replied, "I think it's made me more tolerant of other's beliefs."  He went on to say the thing that has started my transformation.  He said that whether or not you believe we were created by God (a la Adam and Eve) or a cosmic miracle of stardust that began with the Big Bang, we can surely agree that we were "created".  I've thought about that comment a great deal, and I can't find a loop hole.  Christian, Muslim, Jew or Gentile, surely we can agree that by SOME event, we were indeed created.  And that's when I realized that for me, it's not so important that I'm right about my beliefs or that you're wrong.  What's important is that we find common ground as humans.  I can take it a step further.

We both pray.  You may actually call it prayer and I may call it meditation or "sending positive vibes to the universe", but the word "prayer" works fine for me.  I'm actually not doing anything much different than I did as a Christian.  I just call it something different.  We both believe in God.  You're specific about yours and even His name and I see things on a more cosmic level, but the term god works for me.  Higher Power, Universe, Supreme Being, Yaweh, Lord, Alien from another galaxy.....makes no difference to me.  It's someone or something greater than us.  On that we can agree.  Let's call it God.  Works for me.

As it turns out, if you really take liberty with the definition, I'm religious.  You go to church and may even follow a specific doctrine.  You may identify yourself as Catholic or Protestant, Lutheran or Follower of Allah.  I adhere to no specific doctrine and don't go to church, but I see the world and people as my "church".   You might say that the fact that I follow no religion IS my religion.  We can agree on that, right? 

So there you have it.  We were both created.  We pray.  We believe in God and follow a religion.  I'd say that's a pretty good start.  We have alot more in common than we think.  And in the end, isn't that really all that matters?  It doesn't matter so much who's right.  What's important is that we hold hands while we're all finding our way on this tiny little planet which couldn't even be considered a dust speck relative to the 100 million galaxies in our universe.  We're the same.  Sure we differ in some details of our beliefs and we look different, but we're all humans. We're all brothers and sisters.

I think there's still great potential for Peace, Love, Joy and Harmony.  I believe we're alot closer than we think.



 

A Perfect Storm

"War does not determine who is right - only who is left."   -Bertrand Russell-
 
"Sometimes when things seem to be going wrong, they are going right for reasons you are yet to understand."    - Alan Cohen-
 
"Love ultimately proves its reality."     - Alan Cohen -
 
"Force always breeds resistance."   - paraphrased from the Tao Te Ching -
 
The City of Dallas recently hired a new Chief of Police.  As you can imagine, being the top cop for one of our nation's largest cities is highly visible, highly political, and undoubtedly, full of pressures from both within and without.
 
Shortly after our new police chief took office, one of the most bizarre set of circumstances I've ever encountered took place in a nearby city....a "suburb" if you will.  Our police chief's son was involved in the fatal shooting of an innocent bystander and then a Lancaster police officer.  The chief's son was then gunned down by local police.  Let me make this clear for you.  The top-ranking police officer in one of our country's biggest cities had a son who killed a fellow officer, and THEN the boy was killed by other police officials. 
 
I don't care how you spin this.  My heart goes out to that chief.  I don't know what kind of father he is.  I don't know what kinds of issues he had with his son.  I don't care about anything involving his parenting.  HIS son is dead.  And he was killed by fellow police officers acting in a way they are trained to do.  To make things so much worse, his son was a murderer and a cop killer.  I can't even begin to imagine the turmoil and grief that must be crushing the very soul of that chief.  His son did the unimaginable......and now he's dead.  Try trodding through THAT emotional and political mine field. 
 
It gets worse.  On the day of the son's funeral, a Dallas Deputy Police Chief called for on-duty officers to aid in the escort of the funeral procession because he felt public safety was being jeopardized.  It was a split-second decision based on what he felt was best at the time.  When the public got wind of what happened, they called for the Deputy's head on a platter.  How dare he use on-duty cops to escort a cop killer?!  It was the final clap of thunder in a perfect storm.  But I'll get back to that.
 
Rewind two weeks to a dinner I had with my daughter.  At that dinner, I was able to pick the brain and listen to the wisdom of a teenager filled with visions of world peace.  She spoke of how she wants to grow up to write peace treaties and help the starving children of third-world countries.  She doesn't want to be in politics, but wants to share the message of peace and forgiveness.  She wants to be an ambassador of freedom and good will.  And then she said something that made me almost choke on a cheesestik.  "I know what the terrorists did was terrible and wrong", she said.  "But what would have happened if we'd just forgiven them?"
 
Now rewind almost nine years to that fateful day in September of 2001.  A terrorist attack on U.S. soil killed nearly 4,000 civilians, firefighters and police officers.   Almost immediately, President Bush launched a war on terror;  an action I supported, by the way.  Since that time, nearly 6,000 U.S. and allied troops have died in the effort to stop terrorism in Iraq and Afghanistan.  I've already addressed my new position on the war effort so I won't get into that.  But what I do want to make clear here, is that we have lost 50% more people in the war effort itself than we lost in the initial attack.  So what was initially nearly 4,000 dead, is now nearly 10,000.  And we're really nowhere closer to stopping terrorism.  You know it.  I know it.  The pentagon knows it.  Different topic for a different time.
 
So let's get back to my daughter's question of forgiveness and how it relates to our police chief and the war.  What if?  What if the citizens of Dallas could just forgive the Deputy who used on-duty personnel and accept that he did the best he could?  What if the family of the slain police officer could just forgive the chief's son for his heinous crime?  The truth is, the boy is dead.  The ONLY people that will suffer for carrying the hate are the people doing the hating.  What if, (and I know you're gonna blast me here) the U.S. had merely "forgiven" the Muslim world for the act of terrorism carried out by a few?  What if we had simply spent that trillion dollars on education or increased security within our own borders?  Would the body count be 10,000 by using THAT strategy?  I doubt it.
 
I'm trying to get to my point here, but there's more than can be condensed into one meager blog entry.  Where is our spirit of forgiveness?  Even Jesus said, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."  You aren't perfect.  Neither am I.  We may not have killed a cop or bombed a hi-rise, but aren't we worthy of forgiveness?  Is it possible, just POSSIBLE, that in the big picture, forgiving the unforgivable may be what serves everyone best?  
 
The Tao Te Jing (The Way) and various others have suggested that the quickest way to build resistance is to use force.  Tell your kids they CAN'T do something and they can't wait to try it.  Build a wall along the border of Texas and people will die trying to climb it.  Take your all-powerful war weapon half way around the world and the most "unworthy" opponents will dig in and fight back until it makes you look like you're nothing.  I boxed in only one fight, but I can tell you...every time the guy hit me, I did my best to hit him back.  It's a law of nature.  Use force and resistance will come.
 
I clearly don't have the answers to all this, but I'd like to pose a challenge to anyone reading this.  Ala "Pay It Forward", I'd like you to think of one person you need to forgive, whether you think they deserve it or not.  Now forgive them.  Now ask them to do the same.  And so on and so on.  I think you'll be amazed at how much lighter you'll feel after letting go of the bitterness.  And maybe it'll catch on.  Maybe starting right here and right now we can start a chain of forgiveness, one person at a time, that will change a nation.....that will change a world.
 
To change the heart of a nation, we have to change the hearts of its people.  Let's start today with a spirit of forgiveness. 
 

Abby Sunderland

"The least of learning is done in the classrooms."   ~Thomas Merton~

"Truly great madness can not be achieved without significant intelligence"    ~Henrik Tikkanen~

My oldest daughter, now 25, was born with a passion for horses.  I swear her first words were, "Where's Doc?.  (Doc was a horse that lived across the street).  At a very early age she took riding lessons and then began to "show" in 4H.  She did things like Western Pleasure and Showmanship where you either led the horse by a halter or approached speeds barely beyond a slow trot along the rail of the arena.  The horse she rode was blind, but he was also slow.  Showing in 4H was safe.  And to tell you the truth, it was boring beyond words. 

I remember exactly where I was standing the day she came up to me and said, "Dad, I want to run barrels."  My adams apple made it all the way to the back of my throat as I mustered my most supportive face.  "You do know that barrel racing is fast, right?", I asked.  That was as dumb question.  Of course she knew barrel racing meant going fast.  That was entirely the point.  It turns out showing horses in 4H was as boring as watching and she felt the need for speed.  I didn't exactly try to talk her out of her latest need for adventure, but I didn't exactly encourage it either.

Shortly thereafter, she was atop one of the fastest and most seasoned barrel horses in the area.  (I remember where I was standing the day I wrote that check also!)  He was a powerful animal with trophy after trophy to his credit for winning speed events.  In my estimation, he was clearly too much horse for such a small girl.  He was also exactly what she needed to learn and compete in speed events.  I watched for a full season while this young girl, wearing a helmet, was taken on ride after ride by a horse she couldn't yet handle.  I also spent an entire season no longer bored, but terrified!  It was so hard to watch this 90 pound girl strapped to a 1000 pound horse. 

By the next season they were like one.  She "grew" into him and she won local event after local event and qualified for the National Little Britches Finals for a couple years.  Seeing her conquer her fear and rise to the challenge of riding that horse is one of he most gratifying chapters in my life.  I wouldn't change a thing.  It was worth every penny spent on horse, feed, gas, and entry fees.

Which brings me, of course, to Ms. Abby Sunderland.  Abby is the 16 year old young woman who recently attempted to sail around the world solo.  Prior to her departure, the event drew a great deal of press.  But her departure didn't invite an ounce the attention  her "failure" to complete the mission did.  Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, Abby was met with 30-50 foot swells and near-hurricane force winds.  After being repeatedly tipped on her side and rolled under water, the mast of her vessel broke and she sent out a distress beacon.  She had lost contact with her folks via her satellite phone and no one knew for sure if she was alive.  A search plane made contact with Abby and determined she was "safe" and a French fishing vessel, which was closest to her location, was sent to pick her up.  At this writing, that rescue should be complete. 

For the last two days, I have listened to various discussions regarding this young girl's attempt to sail around the world.  The comment I hear most often is, "Where were her parents?"  I've heard variables such as "What were her parents thinking?"  and "Who would allow their child to DO something like that?"  I'll tell you one person that would let her.  Me.  And apparently I am in a vast minority of folks that would do so.  In fact, besides Abby's parents, I may be the ONLY one.

But let's be clear about this and I think Abby's parents have made this point already.  This isn't just a 16 year old girl.  She is an accomplished seaman with advanced knowledge of sailing and navigating and survival.  The Sunderlands didn't just throw their kid out into the ocean in a rubber raft.  They coached her and trained her and most importantly............they supported her in pursuit of her passion. 

It does raise a multitude of questions doesn't it?  Would I let my younger daughter walk a tightrope over the Royal Gorge?  No.  Would I let her get behind the wheel of an Indy Car?  Of course not.  She's 13.  Would I let her set sail around the world on her own?  Not on your life!  She's never even been on a sailing vessel.  Her dream is to move to New York City and dance at Julliard.  I ask you.  Do you think New York City is any less dangerous than the Indian Ocean?   I guess that's open for debate, but I can assure you this.  I will do everything in my power to support her in pursuit of her dream.........her passion.  Isn't that the greatest gift we can give our children?

Of course none of us out there would purposely put our children in harms way without a really good reason.  I think the Sunderlands had one.  I can only begin to imagine how they might have felt if Abby had died while at sea.  But I believe there is something that could have been much worse.  What if they'd refused to let a seasoned seaman like Abby fulfill her dream?  What if they'd said, "When you're an adult you can make your own decisions."?  Now let's take it one step further and assume that next month or next year or the year after that, Abby was killed in a car crash, her dream unfulfilled.  For me, that would be the greater tragedy.  There are things worse than dying.  And the longest life isn't necessarily the most fulfilling.

I, for one, applaud the courage of Abby Sunderland.  But even more than that, I offer a standing ovation to her parents for allowing her to pursue her dream.  It had to be excruciating to let her go.  This one had a happy ending and I can't say what they did would be best in every situation.  But I can say this.  If we're going to raise courageous kids that know how to do more than pass a math test, we have to consider not just their age, but their ability.

Sometimes you just gotta let 'em go.

Just Paint

“Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will.”

~George Bernard Shaw~

“The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources.”

~Albert Einstein~

Last weekend I had the honor of watching my daughter's dance recital.  Although she was only able to participate in one number this year due to injury, I still loved watching this form of art.  For me, dance is the greatest form of self-expression.  I marvel at the talent.

After the recital, my daughter came to stay with me and was instantly drawn (no pun intended) to an easel and paints Linda had recently given me as a gift.  I asked her if she'd like to paint something and to my surprise she said, "Yes!" 

She sat down at the table, a full array of paints at her disposal, and began to ask questions about what she should draw.  Those questions were followed by such things as what kind of brush she should use, what color I felt like would go best here or there, etc.  It was a great bonding time and yet I could feel she felt some apprehension about trying a new craft.

"I'm not very good at drawing or painting," she said. 

"Oh really?  Says who?", I inquired.

"You know, Dad, the professionals!"

To which I quickly answered, "What do THEY know?  Just paint."

She became a little more comfortable playing with different colors and brushes and you know what?  She's pretty good!  She stopped being concerned about what others might think about her art and just painted.  She finished the weekend with three creations and I loved them all.  You can see two of them above.

I'll be the first to tell you I know absolutely nothing about "art".  In other words, I've never been formally "trained" or taken an art class.  But I can tell you this.  If I were to teach any form of art I would tell my students this.  Put away your books.  Banish any preconceived notion you have of what constitutes art.  Stop trying to imitate Picasso or Renoir or Monet.  Quit worrying about depth and shadows and lighting.  Take your brush in your hand, close your eyes, and just paint.  Hum while your painting.  Sing out loud.  It doesn't matter.  Just paint your heart.  I wish our school systems would catch on to that notion.

The closest thing I've ever had to formal training in regards to writing is English Literature 101.  I took it as an elective when I was a college Freshman.  I LOVED that class!  I don't know whether the words I pen are in the right order or follow some code or appeal to the masses.  I just write my heart.  I don't write for you.  I write for me.  And that's what makes it so very special.  My writing (as well as a sculpture I did which at present is in pieces because my welding is defective) is my gift to myself.  It's a way for the deepest part of me to live on in some way forever. 

I'm wondering.  Do you know why Stephen King is such a gifted writer?  I'll tell you why.  He's gifted because he allows himself to take his mind where most are afraid to go.  And then he puts it on paper.  Can you imagine the stuff this guy CAN'T print?  He's fearless.  Not everyone likes it, but I'll bet deep in the heart of Stephen King's soul, he doesn't care.  He writes his heart.

That's my appeal to you....my hope.....my plea.  If you have a passion, whether it be singing or dancing or painting or playing an instrument or designing clothes or writing the great American novel, ask yourself what's holding you back.  Stop being concerned about the "Greats" and what they did.  Who cares?  Devil wears Prada?  Who cares?  Create a clothing line with passion, from the heart, and you could make sun dresses from gunny sacks and you'd sell a million of them.

So do it will you?  There's a whole world out there starving for your creations.  Put down your books.  Stop studying.  Close your eyes...................Take a deep breath.....................See it?  Feel it?  Now.......

Just paint.