“When I use the word spiritual, I am not contradistinguishing it from the material. I have little patience with any philosophy or religion that seeks to transcend the material realm. Indeed, the separation of the spiritual from the material is instrumental in our heinous treatment of the material world. So when I speak of meeting our spiritual needs, it is not to keep cranking out the cheap, generic, planet-killing stuff while we meditate, pray, and prattle on about angels, spirit, and God. It is to treat relationship, circulation, and material life itself as sacred. Because they are.” – Charles Eisenstein
Do you ever get brain worms? You know, those pesky little
musical ditties that play over and over in your head. No matter what you’re
doing the song or musical rift won’t go away. In fact, the more you try to
think of something else the more persistent the song becomes. Sometimes they’re
simply the last song you hear on the radio and other times it comes out of
nowhere. Sometimes they come from the most unlikely sources.
Let me explain…
After an early freeze it’s been a string of beautiful Fall
days here in North Texas. The sun was bright, trees have turned to true Fall
colors, and the birds celebrate the morning in song. The coffee was fuller in
flavor and I relished in the November morning in shorts and a t-shirt. Truly a
blessed morning…
I was reading about Jesus’ first recorded miracle at a
marriage feast in Cana: turning the water into wine. About halfway through I started
humming a Kevin Fowler song, “The Lord Loves a Drinking Man”. Honestly,
it isn’t the most spiritual thing to pop up during my prayer and meditation
time. Click on the link and you’ll see what I mean.
Jesus turned the water to wine and “any man who can do
that is a good friend of mine”. Yep…
Changing Water into Wine
John’s retelling of the miracle at Cana offers a brief
glimpse into his kingdom. He says time and time again the kingdom of God is
like a wedding feast and the Jews in Palestine knew how to throw a wedding
feast. Family and friends came together from all over the region. The finest
food was prepared, and the best wine was brought out first. The party was going
to go on for a while so serve the best wine first and “after the guests have
had their fill bring in the cheap stuff.” John 2.10 (The Message).
It was a big deal. Scholars say their wedding parties lasted
for days. I got a taste of this when I was a groomsman in an Irish Catholic
wedding. The reception was in the Coors Brewery Workers Union Hall if that offers
you a clue. They prefer Irish whiskey to wine and that’s probably a story for another
time, but I digress…
I’d like to think that God’s kingdom is a big celebration. The idea of sitting around singing angelic hymns for eternity sounds a bit boring. God’s kingdom is one of love, joy, and a heck-u-va party. I can’t think of anything better to celebrate.
Wine into Water
Ironically, for people like me Jesus seemed to have worked His
miracle in reverse. He changed the wine into water. For me this is the most
amazing miracle of all. Trapped in a swirling whirlpool of cheap wine (among
other things) and total self-obsession, He lifted me to a life I never dreamed
possible. He invited me into the feast (an analogy He uses often). I know
longer settle for scraps of life. I have a seat at Abba’s table: and what a
party it is.
I can only imagine that if this party is so good now, then
how much more so will the big feast be?
I’m unbelievably thrilled and amazed at just how much He loved this drinking (among other things!) man. I’m happy His miracles aren’t contingent on my false piety and spiritual correctness; that His love is unconditional. He always works the right miracle whether it’s wine into water, or water into wine. Whatever you’re drinking, come on in and join the feast…
I have no idea why this posted as “Auto Draft” but here’s the real headline…
Thoughts From the Porch: Last night filled with great music, hot coffee, and a chance to check the emails filling my inbox from the last few days. It may not be most folk’s idea of a great Saturday night but it’s fine by me. To sit and get caught up, especially in air-conditioned comfort, is a golden opportunity indeed.
I get a LOT of emails. Most get a quick scan and deleted but
there are a few newsletters I read religiously. Pet MD sent their weekly
update. Anything benefitting our fur babies is of utmost importance. We strive
to be the best pet parents possible and always look for helpful tips to keep
our pets in good health.
As a writer of content and copy I know the value of a great headline. This week’s Pet MD had one of the best I’ve seen – “What Should I Do If My Dog Ate Weed?” It got my attention right away. I’m not sure I would’ve been asking that question publicly. I did notice that it said weed and not “my” weed. You know, just in case…
To be honest, I never thought of asking that question, but apparently, marijuana toxicity in dogs is on the rise; especially in states where it is now legal. Although I no longer indulge in THC (I’m in recovery, not judging), I imagine I would be mildly pissed if my dog ate my weed. From what I understand, the dime bag is a thing of the past…
How do you know if your dog ate your weed? According to PET
MD, “Clinical signs include:
Incoordination
Sensitivity to loud noises
Low heart rate
Dribbling urine
Dilation of the pupils
Low or high body temperature”
I would personally
add to the list empty packages of Oreo cookies and Hostess Twinkies scattered
about the house, a lack of motivation to chase the squirrel ten feet away, and an
abnormal fascination with the television. Just saying…
During my
younger and far more foolish years I had a Golden Retriever who once ate half a
pan of THC-infused brownies (where they came from, I’ll never tell!). Had I
known the potential for life-threatening illness I might not have had such a
good laugh (after my initial anger over the lost and somewhat expensive
brownies, of course). The THC made her quite content to lay on the edge of the
porch and watch the cars pass by. I assume she enjoyed the rest of her evening.
I know I did.
If I’d known
then, what I know now…
Fortunately,
my dog survived her momentary intoxication without any ill effects. In fact,
she slept it off until the next afternoon. However, I did notice she was
unusually attentive to the sound of storage baggies opening. Had I known about
weed toxicity back then I might have been a bit worried, but all’s well that
ends well…
The take-away from all this is don’t get your dog high, no matter how much they enjoy it, either intentionally or unintentionally. It’s not good for them. Store your weed (and your cookies) out of reach. Keep your weed and your pet safe and secure.
Thoughts
From the Porch: I slept in an extra hour this morning. You see, I turned
sixty-one years old at about 2:58 AM. Happy Birthday to me, right? It had more
to do with my body feeling my age rather than any secret celebration. It’s been
brutally hot for the last couple of weeks. It simply caught up with me last
night. Such is life…
I’m
unsure of whether it was the oppressive heat or completing another trip around
the sun that made me a bit reflective this week. I’m not where I thought I’d
be, but I am right where I’m supposed to be.
I never thought I’d be farming in triple digit temperatures in my sixties. My goals were much different in my youth. But life has come full circle. Dreams have come true in ways I never imagined. My friend Charlie says I’ve found my ikagi: my reason for being and the thing for which I get up for in the morning.
I
was born on the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation. The sixties, and
unfortunately, the seventies and eighties, shaped much of my perception about
success. I wanted to change the world when I was in college. Idealism isn’t all
that unique for college-age. However, idealism doesn’t make one wealthy and
that’s what everyone else deemed success. So, I traded idealism for pragmatism
and chased whatever I thought was pleasing to others. I got lost somewhere along
the way.
I
won’t bore you with the details. I will tell you I was in my fifties before
life ever began to make sense. That’s only because God began to make sense. Not
the judgmental, punishing God of my youth, but a loving, forgiving God: one
whom I could trust to have my back. The relationship I have with God today is
the foundation for the life I get to live. It’s changed
my perceptions and made me whole.
If
the metric for success is salary, celebrity, or how many followers one has on
social media, then I surely missed the mark. If, on the other hand, it’s about doing
what you love and the people in one’s life, then I am rich beyond measure. I
get up in the morning and know the day is a success
even when it doesn’t feel like it, and it doesn’t
at times. I’m still responsible for the bills. There’s usually more month than
money…). I rarely understand how we make another month financially…
That
being said, I trust God will take care of us even when I can’t possibly see how
it’s going to be done. I show up, plant seeds, and water what comes up. It’s
like that at Opal’s Farm. It’s like that in my life. I’m always surprised by
the harvest.
gregoryjoel.com 