The Beginning

I am finally caving.

The past eighteen years of my life have been an amazing journey. Starting on the day I choose my path and it chose me right back. They day I dedicated myself to a higher power. "As long as I was on the front lines of spiritual warfare", a fifteen year old Matthew proclaimed to the wind, "I dedicate my life to your will."

Late Bloomin'

I have always had a problem being an adult.  It wasn't a question of maturity per se, it was more being incredibly present tense minded. If there wasn't something that was immediately  apparent positive of negative it simply would not show up in my perception. My mind was stuck in a reactive state...there was nothing I was scared of or wanted so badly to register to make me pro-active. This had its disadvantages in an economic world of paychecks and credit checks, but it had tremendous advantages hard to relay in a world in paychecks and credit checks. An instant connection with everything that I could perceive. My moment to moment perception was sharp and my intuition rarely wrong. There was no past or future splitting my attention so I was able to connect to my surroundings in an intimate way that taught me a lot about people, beauty, and most of all spirituality.

All spiritual forces do not operate in the past or the future I have found. They are in directly experienced connections with the here and now. Savor a moment and you are unknowingly walking in the gardens of the divine. This secret that I stumbled on is probably one of the most treasured bits of wisdom I have uncovered. It instructs and shapes you and lights a fire that I am guessing will be helpful to overcoming one's past and future.

I was never afraid of my future...or really plagued by my past. I had this bumper sticker like line I used to giggle at due to its relevance to me. "I don't believe in miracles, I RELY on them." I just wasn't truly worried or had any desire for much enough to reach for or defend against anything. There were things I wanted to accomplish in a intellectual "That'd be cool." kind of way, but nothing that grabbed me and made itself a part of me. It made me an outsider of sorts. I wasn't a hedonistic immature kid, but I wasn't a responsible adult either.  I had insights into people and behavior exploded like northern lights in my mind. But nothing I could ever really build a life on. Just enough to be at the right place at the right time for somebody.  This may seem like a very incredible and weak existence, but it was not. The only real honest to God negative that affected me was since I didn't march to the same beat and my values, mores and interests didn't line up with my peers I was suspected of God knows what all on occasion. The imagined agendas attributed to me were not only off target but painted me as a carny two bit con man on a neutral day; as a priest of the otherworld on a good day; and as a dangerous malicious force of nature on the worst of days.

I have past the event horizon of that era of my life. I am now in another one that I am just now starting to feel out. I have a home.  I never expected to be so strongly attached to any concept, but it makes sense. I have really had no sense of belonging since my mid teens if then. Probably not since I was ten have I felt at home.  The boundaries of my existence are now enmeshed with providing for and protecting my space. Responsibility and forward thinking showed up in my character as two lieutenants reporting for duty, at my bemusement, and stress and anxiety snuck in their shadows to become apart of my internal makeup. But the fire that the divine present lit within me is still bright and strong...brighter now I have given it a task of creating my part of the world.

I still haven't got a handle on all this "adult" future oriented thinking...and I haven't left my ability to perceive my world internally and externally in the perpetual present.  But I am no longer set apart from this world and its experiments of property and belonging and place. I finally made my home here. I am home.

Blogging is for the Crows

Blog. Blogging. What a phonetically unsatisfying word. I really enjoy the idea of having a public journal/article corner, but does the label of it have to sound like an onomatopoeia for vomiting?  I understand it's a combination of web and log, it just sounds like I am spitting something up when I say it...Oh well, I guess in a way I am spitting something up when I post to this...eh...blog. So I suppose in way it is appropriate.

This will be one of the many times I have started a journal. Online or otherwise. I get all excited about the possibilities of reaching people, sharing and other idealistic drivel. It gets updated regularly for awhile, then it just becomes a rant when things are not going so well, leading any readers to the conclusion that I am either dysfunctional, emo, or generally in need of a perpetual hug. This isn't an accurate representation of my thoughts and life. This attempt, that I hope will be successful and a significant part of my life,I vow to make more of an effort to share all seasons of my life.

So why the title "Eating Crow since 1976" ? Well, for a few reasons. It is a symbol that combines my role, as I have recognized it, amongst my community and my penchant for both having to eat my words and eliciting suspicion. The symbol that comes to mind when I think of my contributions to my world is a crow on a signpost at a fork on a path in the woods.  Usually when I am sought out, or at least found, by people, they are away from their comfort zones, at a significant lesson or crossroads in life.  I, in some fashion, mentor the soul on there path and sometimes seem to initiate them into the mysteries of the unknown aspects of their character.  When people get back from the woods, into the towns and havens they are accustomed, the crow at the crossroads is forgotten at best and demonized at worst.  Also, I have an affinity for owls. An owl is who and what I relate to more symbolically as far as my perception of my character is concerned. Owl's and crows fight. A group of crows is called a murder, and they gang up on owl's during the day. Owl's at night eat crows. Also eating crow is a saying for someone who has to eat their own words. So I am an owl who has to eat my own words and regularly the crows that gang up on me. Heh. Long explanation.

So here is my introduction to this journal. I hope we both learn something from each other, whoever you are.