19 July 2016

On a flight to Seattle

They're not ice floes. They were just clouds. All that ice floating around the northeastern Pacific wouldn't make sense. I guess it's just constantly cloudy in Alaska.

The sun is setting behind me; when I touch down it'll be night and not the hazy waning morning that greets me every winter I've returned home.

I'm traveling home but I don't want to. Except for my family, nothing awaits me there. I have no more close and loyal friends, I have no work, I have no life. 

Haven't I been waiting to be done and home for nearly four years? 

It's like I don't know how to be home. 

I've been a stranger in a strange land for so long. I was comfortable living as a foreigner, as an outsider.  

10 March 2016

Paraphrase: Psalm 107 -- a song of the sea

The seamen go down to the sea in their great ships, 
following the shipping lines through the transient waters
Business they call it, but it is actually adventure to exotic lands
Tarshish, Sardinia, Tora Bora, Vancouver

And they find God there in the vastness, 
in the mysteries of the depths of the ocean
They find God in the broad night sky and 
the silent breezes of the noonday
He may blow the wind and cast the waves 
as high as heaven: he is king over the flood
The ships ride up with them, and fall into the trenches
Their hearts melt in fear, their vessels reeling to and fro
Staggering like a boy from a pub

They are pushed to the ends of faith
So they cry out to God, Save us Lord
else we perish -- and he hears their fears
He commands the storm, Peace! be still 
The waves settle down
And they are glad 
because they have found stillness
The signal is lowered, 
the ship is secure, 

And he brings them home again.