Learning to Live

There was no time for pain
No energy for anger
The sightlessness of hatred slips away
Walking through winter streets alone
He stops and takes a breath
With confidence and selfcontrol

I look at the world and see no understanding
I'm waiting to find some sense of strength
I'm begging you from the bottom of my heart
To show me understanding

I need to live life
Like some people never will
So find me kindness
Find me beauty
Find me truth
When temptation brings me to my knees
And I lay here drained of strength
Show me kindness
Show me beauty
Show me truth

The way your heart surrounds
Makes all the difference
It's what decides if you'll endure the pain
That we all feel
The way your heart beats
Makes all difference
In learing to live
Here before me is my soul
I'm learning to live
I won't give up
Till I've no more to give

Listening to the city
Whispering its violence
I set out watching from above
The 90's bring new questions
New solutions to be found
I fell in love to be let down

Once again we dance in the crowd
At times a step away
From a common fear that's all spread out
It won't listen to what you say
Once you're touched you stand alone
To face the bitter fight
Once I reached for love
And now I reach for life

Another chance to lift my life
Free the sensation in my heart
To ride the wings of dreams
Into changing horizons
It brings inner peace within my mind,
As I'm lifted from where I've spilt my life
I hear an innocent voice
I hear kindness, beauty and truth

The way your heart sounds
Makes all the difference
It's what decides if you'll endure the pain
That we all feel
The way your heart beats
Makes all the difference
In learning to live
Spread before you is your soul
So forever hold the dreams within your hearts
Through nature's inflexible grace
I'm learning to live...

Learning to Live, Dream Theater

Promised Land

Watching the sand fall,
listening for the knock
upon my door,
and waiting...
for Promised Land.

Standing neck deep in life,
my ring of brass
lay rusting on the floor.
Is this all?,
because it's not what I expected.

Somewhere along the way
friends I once held close
fled the fast lane.
I didn't notice,
I just had to make it.
Head down, nose to the grindstone;
the kiss of life
place on my brow
somehow slid to the ground
and lies buried six feet under.

Preaching from the floor again
the same old sad song,
'Bartender... bring another drink for their favorite son.'
Where did it all go wrong?
What's the use in even holding on?
Here's to love, hate ... and promises.

Almost called it today.
Turned to face 'The Void'
numb with the suffering
and the question,
'Why am I ...?'
So many times I've
tried and failed to
gather my courage, reach again for that nail.
Life's been like
dragging feet through sand,
and never finding ... Promised Land.

Preaching from the floor again
the same old sad song,
'Bartender ... bring another drink for their favorite son.'
Where did it all go wrong ?
I feel like I¹m dying.
Here's to love, to hate,
to promises and Promised Land lies.

Promised Land, Queensryche

Lifting Shadows Off A Dream

He seems alone and silent
Thoughts remain without an answer
Afraid and uninvited
He slowly drifts away

Moved by desire and fear
Breaking delicate wings

Lifting shadows
Off a dream once broken
She can turn a drop of water
Into an ocean

As the rain is pouring down
Tears of sorrow wash his mind
Drifting with the current
This stream of life flows on

He seems alone and silent
Waiting on his hands and knees
The chill of winter’s darkness sits quietly

Moved by desire and fear
He takes a few steps away

Lifting shadows
Off a dream once broken
She can turn a drop of water
Into an ocean

And she listens openly

He pours his soul into the water
Reflecting the mystery
She carries him away
And the winds die slowly

And she listens openly
And she listens openly

Lifting shadows
Off a dream once broken
She can turn a drop of water
Into an ocean

Lifting shadows off a dream
Lifting shadows off a dream

Lifting Shadows Off A Dream, Dream Theater

Wander, Indiana

How did I come to be here? I suppose
I was like other girls at first, just shyer.
I used to stand outside the practice room
Listening to Chopin on the piano
With my eyes closed, imagining love,
I was a wise man in the Christmas play,
No lines to speak, but the whole stage to cross
Pretending to follow a light-bulb star.
I liked to spin the globe in my homeroom
After school, and stop it with my finger.
Then I grew up, got glasses, read thick books
I saw the sights that all explorers see
When I began to travel, yet somehow
The pictures in the books were always brighter-
"Smiling mermaids, combing their yellow hair"
The caption said, but when I reached that shore
And saw the mermaids sprawled upon their rocks,
I saw how thin they were, how they shivered,
And tried to dry their wet tails with their hair.

I heard the rumors about Shangri-la:
Yes, most of them are true, the palms sway
And gentle unicorns crop the green grass
Below the snow-capped, shadowy mountains,
But people stopped me on broad avenues
To ask me a question: Was I very happy
Down there where snow fell? If I said "yes,"
They turned from me in shock, almost angry,
Swept up their gauzy robes, and walked away.
That's when I crossed the Iceberg Sea to Limbo
And dimembarked in the ramshackle port.
It looked so ordinary, a town of bars
And rutted streets. Inside the "Rainy Daze"
I asked a sailor if he ever tried
To catch a glimpse of Heaven through the fog.
He shook his head, lifting his heavy stein.

But it was on my short voyage to Hell
That I first heard of Wander, Indiana.
I waited on the shore beside the Lethe
Among the mingling shades. I had no right
To passage on the ferry for the dead,
And the shades jostled me, mocking, annoyed.
I was loveless, hopeless, but I was alive,
Solid enough to weight the buoyant wood
Of the deck, remind them of their losses.
After the ferryman refused to take me
I pleaded with the dead. Where should I go?
Wander, Indiana some voices hissed
Above the groan of oars, the shrieks and moans.
And so I drove across the big prairie
Searching for the narrow road to Wander.

The sky was blue, the rustling corn uncut.
I passed the quarry and the water tower,
Drove into the country seat at twilight-
It looked real. I knew that strangers slept
Soundly at the Bide-a-Wee Motel,
Then drove away, never suspecting the trick:
The whole town, the whole enormous county,
Is made of drifting vapor, molecules
Combined-no one knows how-to resemble
Shapes of houses, hardware stores, and people.
None of us exist. We're clouds of matter
Driven by gusts of passion, lips dissolving
As we smile at you, and give you direction.

Wander, Indiana, by Maura Stanton

Man of a Thousand Faces

I'm the man of a thousand faces
A little piece of me in every part I take
I hold the tape for a thousand races
A different point of view in every speech I make
Cut me a piece of my divided soul
Cry me a river, call it rock and roll
Give me an attitude and watch me make it lie
Pass me a microphone - I need to testify

Well I speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak to the present in the past and future tense
Speak to a slave with the voice of obedience

I'm the man of a thousand ages
You see my face in the stones of the Parthenon
You hear my song in the babble of Babylon
I'm the man of a thousand riches
Be my guest at the feast of Satyricon
You spend the money that my logo's printed on

Well I'll speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak to the present in the past and future tense
Speak to a slave with the voice of obedience

I stole a fire but it burned up much too soon
I took a leap and I landed on the moon
Look at my life and it looks like CNN
You see something once y'know it's gonna come around again

Well I'll speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak to a woman with the fatal charm of a snake
Forgive like a giver and account for all I take

Yes, I Speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak like a leader with the voice of power and command
And when I talk to God I know he'll understand
Cause I'm the man of a thousand faces
Yes I'm the man of a thousand faces

I stole a fire but it burned up too much too soon
I took a leap and I landed on the moon..
Voice of command
Voice of a snake
Voice of humanity
Voice of insanity
Voice of command
Voice of a snake
Voice of humanity
Voice of insanity
Voice of command
Voice of obedience
Thousand faces
Thousand races
Cry me a river
Face in the stars
Stones in the Parthenon
Babble of Babylon
Voice of command
Voice of a snake
Voice of humanity
Voice of insanity
Thousand faces
Thousand races
Cry me a river
Steal a fire
Face in the stars
Stones in the Parthenon
Babble of Babylon
Landed on the moon

Man of a Thousand Faces, Marillion

Dreamline

He’s got a road map of jupiter
A radar fix on the stars
All along the highway
She’s got a liquid-crystal compass
A picture book of the rivers
Under the sahara

They travel in the time of the prophets
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and hereos, and the restless part of everyone
We’re only at home when we’re on the run
On the run

He’s got a star map of hollywood
A list of cheap motels
All along the freeway
She’s got a sister out in vegas
The promise of a decent job
Far away from her hometown

They travel on the road to redemption
A highway out of yesterday -- that tomorrow will bring
Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring
We’re only at home when we’re on the wing
On the wing

When we are young
Wandering the face of the earth
Wondering what our dreams might be worth
Learning that we’re only immortal --
For a limited time

Time is a gypsy caravan
Steals away in the night
To leave you stranded in dreamland
Distance is a long-range filter
Memory a flickering light
Left behind in the heartland

We travel in the dark of the new moon
A starry highway traced on the map of the sky
Like lovers and heroes, lonely as the eagle’s cry
We’re only at home when we’re on the fly
On the fly

When we are young
Wandering the face of the earth
Wondering what our dreams might be worth
Learning that we’re only immortal --
For a limited time

We travel on the road to adventure
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and hereos, and the restless part of everyone
We’re only at home when we’re on the run
On the run...

Dreamline, Rush

Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road.

I'm currently reading Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road by Neil Peart. Neil is the drummer and lyricist for the Canadian band Rush, and is respected for both his playing and his writing skills.

In this book, he tells how he survived the death of his only daughter in a traffic accident, and then the death of his wife to cancer, all in a single year. It is a very personal tale of how he spent months riding a motorcycle from Alaska to Belize, trying to find a reason to continue on.

I have a book discussion group at the library where I work, and seriously considered making this a reading selection- the people in the group are quite open to non-fiction, and are very sharp readers. But the book goes on a bit long- 460 pages- and could have been shorter, though I find it personally interesting to read the thoughts of a man I've respected for years as a lyricist.

One of those 'makes you pause to think about life' books.

Time Stand Still

I turn my back to the wind
To catch my breath,
Before I start off again
Driven on,
Without a moment to spend
To pass an evening
With a drink and a friend

I let my skin get too thin
I’d like to pause,
No matter what I pretend
Like some pilgrim --
Who learns to transcend --
Learns to live
As if each step was the end

Time stand still --
I’m not looking back
But I want to look around me now
See more of the people
And the places that surround me now

Freeze this moment
A little bit longer
Make each sensation
A little bit stronger
Experience slips away...

I turn my face to the sun
Close my eyes,
Let my defences down --
All those wounds
That I can’t get unwound

I let my past go too fast
No time to pause --
If I could slow it all down
Like some captain,
Whose ship runs aground --
I can wait until the tide
Comes around

Make each impression
A little bit stronger
Freeze this motion
A little bit longer
The innocence slips away...

Summer’s going fast --
Nights growing colder
Children growing up --
Old friends growing older
Experience slips away...

Time Stand Still, Rush

Estonia

Feeling you shake
Feel your heart break
Thinking if only, if only, if only, if only
And the salt water runs
Through your veins and your bones
Telling you no not this way, not this way, not this way

And you would give anything
Give up everything
Offer your life blood away
For yesterday

No one leaves you
When you live in their heart and mind
And no one dies
They just move to the other side
When we're gone
Watch the world simply carry on
We live on laughing and in no pain
We'll stay and be happy
With those who have loved us today

Finding the answer
It's a human obsession
But you might as well talk to the stones and the trees and the sea
'Cause nobody knows
And so few can see
There's only beauty and caring and truth beyond darkness

No one leaves you
When you live in their heart and mind
And no one dies
They just move to the other side
When we're gone
Watch the world simply carry on
We live on laughing and in no pain
We'll stay and be happy
With those who have loved us today

And we won't understand your grief
Because time is illusion
As this watery world spins around
This timeless sun
Will dry your eyes
And calm your mind

No one leaves you
When you live in their heart and mind
And no one dies
They just move to the other side
When we're gone
Watch the world simply carry on
It's okay, we will stay and be happy
Stay and be happy
With those who have loved us today

Estonia, by Marillion

At work one day.

At work one day- the reference desk of a public library- I had two people approach me. One was a small middle-aged woman, rather homely and unsophisticated, and the other was her very large son, tall and overweight, with long hair, dressed all in black, looking somewhat intimidating at first glance.

I asked them how I could help them, making sure to have eye contact with both. They needed help finding some magazine articles on a particular subject for a school project. I showed the son how to look up articles on an electronic database on an Internet terminal in the library, which took a few minutes of explanation. He turned out to be a quick learner. I returned to the info desk. As he worked on the PC in the computer room, his mother came back up to me.

"Can I help you with something else?"

"No, I just wanted to say thank you very much for treating my son like a person. I really appreciate that."

I could see that she was sincere. I'm not sure what I replied.

All of the times that I had hid my frustration with slow or rude customers was swept away for one afternoon.

Confessions of a Tax Collector

From Richard Yancey's book 'Confessions of a Tax Collector', in which he discussed his twelve years working for the IRS:


Nine simple rules from a training guide for field agents-


Treat all taxpayers fairly and courteously

Do not personalize collection efforts

Listen carefully

Do not threaten, scold, or patronize

Recognize your own attitudes and eliminate those that are counter-productive

Treat taxpayers as you would want to be treated

Know where the exits are

Avoid getting trapped

Use force only sufficient to disengage

I was told

I was told there's a miracle
for each day that I try

I was told there's a new love that's born
for each one that has died

I was told there'd be no one to call on
when I feel alone and afraid

I was told if you dream of the next world
You'll find yourself swimming in a lake of fire

As a child, I thought I could live without pain without sorrow
But as a man I've found it's all caught up with me
I'm asleep yet I'm so afraid


From Metropolis, part 1: the Miracle and the Sleeper, by Dream Theater

Pictures of Bliss

Sleeping beauty, rest thine eyes
What lies beneath, your fragrant disguise
A natural blossom, of nature's colours
Born to woo, attracting a fervour
In a fading half-light, leading the way
Adorned with the robes of a Queen's display
Moving in silence, a memory that was sold
Along with my heart a long time ago

Sleeping beauty, rest thine eyes
Pictures of bliss, foreboding sighs
Reel with delight, in a satin mirage
Raising a smile, I lie at your charge
No need to awaken, no sounds of the dawn
A silent approach, a new love is born ?
But it dies as it reaches, and soon turns so cold
As did my desire, a long time ago
A long time ago

Pictures of Bliss - Galahad

MMORPGs.

MMORPGS are massive multiplayer online roleplaying games.

If you are a computer gamer, and an adult, you are seen as...different. :-)

Funny though. If you sit in front of the TV all night watching crap, you're normal.

MMORPGs differ from other computer games in that they are set in a large, persistent fantasy or science fiction world. Players build a career over weeks, months, even years in the game, slowly growing stronger, accumulating skills, wealth, and perhaps fame. Certainly friends.

If it sounds like a second job- sometimes it can feel that way. But it is interesting to create another persona and guide their career. What profession should I become? What shall I do to succeed in this new world? How shall I relate to my fellow players? What role shall I take up?

There is the escapist element of fun in such a process. There is also a sense of enjoying the journey- it tends to be a long one. Players that rush through to the ultimate level in such a game mystify me. There is also the sense of mastery and control over an exotic situation. An exciting alternate career for a cubicle jockey. And a way to interact with people of similar interests. Thousands of people are often on one server in such a game.

MMORPGs are a long-term process. You have an alternate persona that you invest quite a lot of time and effort in. This is definitely not a first-person shooter, where you can start off powerful immediately and end the game mere minutes later. Nor is it a real-time strategy game where you might play for an hour or two, thinking out chess-like moves. It is almost a lifestyle, for those who play a lot.

I play a couple of MMORPGs currently. I don't spend as much time as I used to playing- reading, and the occasional writing claims some leisure time, too.

Check out Camelot Journeys and Warcraft Journeys for a couple of Websites about MMORPGs that I've played. I obviously like taking screenshots.

Word Journeys is a blog of the stories I have written about the games I've played in.

Lines in the Sand

Sometimes, for a moment of bliss
And the passion, we're craving
There's a message we miss
Sometimes when, the spirits left alone
We must believe in something
To find if we've grown

Tragic reflex, shattered calm
Static progress, senses gone
Numb awareness, final psalm

Swept away with the tide
Through the holes in my hands
Crown of thorns at my side
Drawing lines in the sand

Sometimes, if you're perfectly still
You can hear the virgin weeping
For the savior of your will
Sometimes, your castles in the air
And the fantasies you're seeking
Are the crosses you bear

Sacred conflict, blessed prize
Weeping crosses, stainless eyes
Desperate addict, faith disguised

Swept away with the tide
Through the holes in my hands
Crown of thorns at my side
Drawing lines in the sand

We fabricate our demons

Invite them into our homes

Have supper with the aliens

And fight the war alone

We conjure up our skeletons

Enlist the den of thieves

Frightened from our closets

Then sewn upon our sleeves

In the stream of consciousness
There is a river crying
Living comes much easier
Once we admit

We're dying

Sometimes, in the wreckage of our wake
There's a bitterness we harbor
And hate for hatred's sake
Sometimes we dig an early grave
And crucify our instincts
For the hope we couldn't save

Sometimes a view from sinless eyes
Centers our perspective
And pacifies our cries
Sometimes the anguish we survive
And the mysteries we nurture
Are the fabrics of our lives

Swept away with the tide
Through the holes in my hands
Crown of thorns at my side
Drawing lines in the sand


Lines in the Sand, Dream Theater

Wait for Sleep

Standing by the window
Eyes upon the moon
Hoping that the memory will leave her spirit soon
She shuts the doors and lights
And lays her body on the bed
Where images and words are running deep
She has too much pride to pull the sheets above her head
So quietly she lays and waits for sleep

She stares at the ceiling
And tries not to think
And pictures the chain
She's been trying to link again
But the feeling is gone

And water can't cover her memory
And ashes can't answer her pain
God give me the power to take breath from a breeze
And call life from a cold metal frame

In with the ashes
Or up with the smoke from the fire
With wings up in heaven
Or here, lying in bed
Palm of her hand to my head
Now and forever curled in my heart
And the heart of the world


Wait for Sleep - Dream Theater

After it has gone by.

Life can be looked at after it has gone by, and some order or sense can be made of it then. But if you're honest with yourself, it may not have unfolded as you had forseen. Maybe you will find the goal after you are there, and wonder about it all. Keep going and see.

Stories.

A story for me is a way of telling a Truth.

Truth in this sense is not a scientific fact. Truth is a glimpse of life. A recognition might be a better word. A revelation.

A story is a limited look at a particular set of persons at a particular time and place. But it says something about life, it reaches something under the surface that we connect with, something that we understand as a universal. We see something greater than us as individuals. We connect and understand.

Art reveals a general Truth through a presentation of particular fragments.

So does life.

This Love

Love. Captured in a few words, part of a song.


This love
This inconvenient, blind, blood-diamond
This puzzle
I don't understand
That knows no faith
And tries and fails
And tries again
Stares at the sea
The night's dark deep
For one last time
And bleeds
And bleeds
And dies for you
And lies
And is to blame
And is ashamed
And is not the same
And is true
And is true


From This Strange Engine, by Marillion

First.

This is a collection of posts that add up to a reflection of a person. Thoughts, incidents, stories, lyrics, verse, it all comes together. Or not. Depending on how you see.

The reflections in the title are the glimpses that add up to the author.

The undercurrents - simply the observation that most of what we think of as ourselves is hidden underneath, and comes to our attention only on occasion.