Alternate Title For This Blog

"drift a little more, a little less..." maybe I shoulda called it that. I'm obviously not the most diligent man in the human community. It's taking me alot longer than I thought to stop drifting, and my efforts are more like a little league baller who's secretly playing the role of a ninja turtle while running the bases than an olympic athelete. But yesterday I found a little hope, and have decided to try try again. Maybe this time. Resilience. Perseverance. These are the qualities that drive us on when we feel outmanneded and under the gun. Hopefully I will be granted the strength to succeed more often and waste less energy.

Part of the reason I post so little is that my scanner is the only way I have of putting artwork in ( camera was stolen a while back ) and I haven't been writing much. Hopefully that will change. Certainly its time to start perusing other blogs for inspiration, as well as saving to replace the tools that keep life exciting. A little blurb from my life :

The walls were closing in again,
as agitation tapped my head
and fear wore its wicked grin.
I paced and walked and thought and talked
but no peace would settle in.
like a ratmaze around a saltines box,
my pacing path had worn thin.
as I lapped my bed on my foot wide track,
i cursed as I struck my shin.
Must have been the laundry
as I tried to step it over,
or the piles of beer bottles littering the floor
or the junk i tucked behind the door
where I hide the mirror.
By God, it hurt, and anger grabbed me.
The walls quickened their pace.
In a moment my mattress was on the curb
and I'd more than doubled my pacing space.
now i sleep on the floor
with something blocking the doorcracks
just in case the winged crawlers are out.
I stare at the cieling
and my back is now healing
and I've room now to wander about...

New Site

Ok so the fiction blog ( very basic ) is up at http://lifeisthemuse.blogspot.com/ .
check it out. there's not much on there now but hopefully it'll encourage me to dig through old stuff and write some new things as well.

May God bless you and yours.

New Ideas

Ok so maybe its just to satisfy my own creative urges, but I'm going to try doing a separate blog for some poetry and stories, and maybe some illustrations that go along with the poems and stories. This would allow me to use this site as what it was intended for, mainly an encouragement for those who may experience some of the mental and spiritual turbulence I've experienced in life. The other site will allow me to play with my fiction writing stuff, and to pretend that my fiction is worth publishing. Please give it a shot; some may be biblically themed, but i'll try to describe each piece I post so the reader knows what they are getting into, and I am of the belief that biblically themed material can be ( should be ) enjoyable even to those who do not believe that Jesus is God. Hopefully someone enjoys this stuff.

faith, hope, and love . . . they come from God. don't let these out of your mindset for even a moment, and I really think you can face any trial.

A New World part 4...

see earlier posts for the preceding story. this is the last installment and I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it.

It was a man, or at least appeared to be a man. About six feet tall, he looked clean and powerful, and his eyes looked hurt and joyful at the same time. Those eyes were very wise; maybe wiser than any man had ever been. This is his place. He was clothed in a way that Jacob did not recognize, and those clothes gave him the look of both a general and a father. The man stood tall and yet not proud in a way that both demanded respect and eased Jacob’s fear a little bit, and Jacob found himself standing, watching the man between him and the river. It may come as a surprise that he didn’t kneel, but the fact was that he didn’t need to. Everything about him was kneeling already, as he was kept rapt in watching the man, in an impossible mix of fear and hope, love and anticipation.

“It is my Father that you should fear. I do His work, and his task is mine to complete.” Jacob heard this with his soul, or with his eyes, but not with his ears. The man’s eyes were speaking to him.

“I am yours and you are Mine. You will fall, but your falling will come to an end. You will hurt and cry, but you will be whole when you cease to see yourself at all and when your tears resemble mine.” Jacob didn’t quite catch the symbolism of the Man’s next action, but later would understand completely : He crouched, retrieved a small amount of water from that living river in a cupped hand, and then turned his eyes back to Jacob.

“Use your new eyes for that which they have been given to you. Do not be afraid of what you will see. You have been bought, child. Your master will help you. Know the source of the sight and you will know the reason for it.” His eyes watered and he formed a sliver of a smile. He then lifted his cupped hand and blew the water from it, gentle as a mother’s kiss. The living water collided with Jacob’s bare skin and he lost consciousness. He somersaulted backward again and again and then all was still and quiet and dark.

Jacob awoke to the sound of the telephone. Some jangling, high pitched tune was clattering out of it just loud enough to crack the shell of sleep. Annoyed, he told himself to be sure and change the tone to a simple ring later. It sounded more like a cheap handheld video game than a telephone. He didn’t even try to answer. It took him a good ten minutes to prepare himself for conversation in the mornings. Something’s different , he thought, scratching his foot on the shag before standing. He turned his head an awkward distance to the side, and his neck cracked, just like it always had. He tried to recall his dream, fumbling his way to the bathroom and beginning the motions of brushing his morning breath away. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t raise the dream above the line of consciousness. It just wouldn’t come to him, but a feeling encroached his dull senses that reminded him of how he had felt as he looked down on his baby sister, ten minutes after she was born. He grinned a foamy smile, and let the hunt for the dream go, emptying and rinsing as he did.

This feeling, which he would soon recognize as peace, was a little bit alien to him. Months had passed since he had last felt it, and so he didn’t recognize the symptoms. Those months had been far from easy. He hadn’t been sad, or depressed; what it felt like to him was loneliness. He struggled with it like a beast that meant to spill his blood. The loneliness murmured up from the intangible fibers of his soul, reminding him constantly that something was missing; that most of him, in fact, was missing; the part that was present seemed to consist of all the garbage. It had been the longest, hardest stretch of time in his young life. The pages of his old Bible had become smudged and creased; they had gotten worn from concentrated use. His mind was tired from all the wasted effort in trying to solve the problem with logic, and his confidence had all melted away under the heatlamp of brokenness. Three nights ago, he became worried that his heart was too jaded for salvage, sensing a seed of jealousy planted there. He had begun to grow jealous of all those people he knew that seemed as if they had everything figured out. He thought maybe that jealousy had tainted his prayers, and that God just wasn’t listening. He wondered to himself how Martin Luther and George Whitefield and countless other men of God had endured their own torments in seeking Him (theirs were undoubtedly multiples of his own.) So each day, this praying man had worn a thin smile, and carried the weight of the unknown like a millstone on a necklace.

But this morning, checking his voicemail and dressing to meet a friend, the weight was gone. And he didn’t even know it.

Two children were playing in the yard up ahead, kicking a blue ball back and forth, enthralled by the sweet simplicity of a child’s game. The grass was greener than it had ever been, and the sky was so blue that it subconsciously reminded Jacob of the majestic river in his dream as he approached the yard where the children were. As he passed, the younger of the two, blonde with boy curls and a cherubim’s face, paused from his game and smiled a smile like only he could. Something spread through Jacob’s nervous system, raising his awareness; filtering his thoughts, and at length pushing tears out of his smiling eyes. He never did completely recall nor forget his dream, but he didn’t need to. From that moment forward, for the rest of his life, he knew who he belonged to. Thick and thin, through all the pain and struggle and joy and triumph, that dream represented the victory he was allowed to share that kept his peace, and once and for all, to Jacob Jones, hope had become truth.

this story is meant to encourage something i need to be encouraged of myself. the story is entirely fiction, and i don't personally trust that God still speaks to us through dreams, but the symbolism is biblical, and i think it is important for me to remember that sometimes it takes a long time to reach peace with Jesus. the valleys are there for a reason, and that reason is NEVER that we should give up on waiting for Jesus. After all, He is THE way, THE truth, and THE light. i'm not giving up, and there are many who deserve thanks for that. there is something else i remember that gets me through, that keeps me, even in my darkest, most lonely moments, from giving up. i don't know the reference ( sorry ) but it's a bible verse. no matter how many promises God has made, they are yes in Christ. and something else : Matthew 5:6 says that blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. ( paraphrased ). Why does this verse mean so much to me right now?

Because it does not say blessed are those who are righteous...; it says those who hunger and thirst. remember, He didn't come to save the 'righteous', but sinners. i'm a sinner. this encourages me. i hope it does you. and even if i never become a 'righteous' man, even if i never fully find that peace, maybe someone else could be encouraged to hunger and thirst for righteousness. maybe these verses will spark a hunger and a thirst in me even tonight.

don't give up on life. someone loves you. don't give up on love. there is nothing else that will satisfy you. and i'll relay something that is no secret, and no coincidence. God is Love.

a new world part 3

this is part 3 of a story begun on april 20th. you can start reading there.

sorry it takes so long to get these up, the story was written years ago but i only have intermittent access to the internet, so if anyone's reading this, i hope that you will forgive me for that...


A New World, continued...

It was about twelve steps to the crest of the ridge, and when Jacob reached it, he found himself stunned beyond comprehension. The landscape opened up, still very simple and beautiful. But nothing any more than fifty feet away attracted even the slightest bit of attention, because there at the bottom of the ridge was a massive river. He thought he could see its bank from up here. It had to be miles across, and straight. Not a crook or a bend for the length of it. Nothing frustrated the roaring water from its path. It stretched on forever, as far as he could see, in both directions. It flowed from his right to his left, powerful but gentle, strong and yet smooth. The rushing sound was much more distinct close to it, but not overbearing at all. It was quiet and still forceful, much like everything else in this strange world, and in all its grandeur the river was even more awe-inspiring than the towering trees. Perhaps the most striking thing about the river was that it had such color. Here where everything was a shade of white, be frothy blue green of the water had the effect of fireworks on a black sky, but far more intense. It seemed, visually, to scream, to jump off the backdrop, and it permanently changed the mind of the beholder. The feeling of life that came from the tree was so strong here, even at the top of the ridge, that the man forgot himself again, and began walking toward what would be the bank, if you would call it that. The ground rolled off into the water smoothly. Looking up the endless length of the living water, he realized that the greater of the perpendicular ridges ran parallel to it, as endless as the water itself. And so, feeling smaller than a slave invited to a king’s table, Jacob sat down without a thought, crossed his legs, and was absorbed by the living, balanced beauty which was so new to his senses. Time passed unnoticed, and uncounted as he sat there, dazed in wonder. His thoughts were simple again; he couldn’t really think of anything other than the splendor of the strong current. Soon a new noise teased his ears. Like the rustle of the water at first, he could hear it like a gentle train that was still miles away. And then, slow and steady, it increased in volume until he could hear it clear and full and then it leveled off, not to get any louder. The new sound was a pleasure to him. It was intoxicating. The funny thing was that he could make out no change in the flow of the sound. It was like a song without words or music. It seemed to be all the love, all the sadness, and sweetness, and joy that a song wanted to be, without being a song at all. It was the most soothing, captivating sound imaginable. The combination of the sweetness of the music ( he could really think of the sound as nothing else but the truest, purist music ) and the glory of the massive waterway was surreal. He stretched for a word in his mind to describe it and soon gave up; none were sufficient. After a brief moment, the symphony of the river and the essence of the sound were all but forgotten. Jacob felt a crawl up his spine and his skin grew goose bumps. This reminded him for the first time of his nakedness, and he recognized fear in his heart. He felt a presence behind him that shook the fibers of his soul, and he didn’t know why but he could not turn around. Didn’t really want to. The fear was not the kind of children fearing boogeymen, but that of a creature fearing his master. Soon he felt the presence circle him, until it was directly in front of him. Jacob’s disposition changed slightly as he took note of the being which bore this presence.

John 20:26-29 (KJV)
And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them: then came Jesus, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, Peace be unto you. [27] Then saith he to Thomas, reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. [28] And Thomas answered and said unto him, My Lord and my God. [29] Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.



you never know who God will use to shake you and remind you of Himself. i pray i am shaken, and reminded of Him.

A New World pt. 2

this is part 2 of a story that I started posting on 4/20. You can read the beginning there.

Looking forward, he realized that one of the trees was rooted a pace or two to the side of the ridge which ran forward and up to the other. It sat just this side of the slope, and it provided a destination. It was intriguing to look at, and so he set out for it, walking slow along the lesser ridge and looking forward. There was nothing at all to make him nervous; no need for caution – only intrigue. He didn’t have to look as he walked; every view was as beautiful as the next, and the last. What a place. So Peaceful. As he walked, the first sound registered, almost inaudible. A little further on, and it grew a tiny bit louder, but was still quiet. If there had been any background noise, it would have drowned out this quaint rustling. Everything is so still. What’s that sound? It took a moment to reach the base of the tree at the bottom of the ridge, and before he arrived there, the rustling had cleared into more of a splashing sound, like running water. He knew by then that the sound wasn’t coming from this towering tree at all, but somewhere on the other side of the massive ridge. However, he wasn’t the the least bit anxious to explore beyond the ridge; he was perfectly content right there, absorbing the sight of the towering tree. It had to be eight feet in diameter and sixty feet or more to the highest branches. The trunk was smooth and had a marbled look to it, with different shades of white swirling upward and then out along the branches. The leaves were smooth as well, but lacked the marble design found on the wood. They each had three distinct parts and three distinct shades, yet there were no veins dividing them. He realized that he was trying to compare them to leaves he had previously seen, and that his mind was becoming somewhat accustomed to the place now.He was once again capable of reason and comparative thought; even recollection, though his memories were faint, hazy, and generally useless in such an alien environment. The tree was more beautiful than anything he could recall seeing before. He stood beneath it, feeling the life emanating from it. The silent voice of life the tree sang with filled him with awe and respect. What could have been hours passed before self awareness started to creep back in, and he decided that this couldn’t be the only thing here to see. He realized he was completely unclothed, but didn’t feel ashamed or unnatural at all about it. It felt exactly right, like he had never worn a shirt or pants before, and thus - feeling at peace as he had all along, his mind moved back to exploring the world around him. Once more his eyes followed the swirls up the gargantuan tree trunk and settled on one of the thick of the branches overhead. I can’t imagine anything more beautiful, but I have to move on. There must be a reason I’m here. Smiling at the simplicity of his thoughts, unhampered by the normal distractions of life, Jacob turned himself toward the greater ridge and then began the ascent, keeping close to the lesser ridge to maintain a straight path.

Watercolors

This medium is new to my artwork, but maybe someone will enjoy them...

Story in Installments

This is my version of a serial novel, though the story is actually only a few pages long. It is a story of allegorical nature, but don't read into the words too much. Everything is purposely stated simple to maximize the readers' enjoyment and ease of reading. It is a work intended for entertainment, Christian in nature, but not explicitly so. Please enjoy, and if you do, let me know. I need encouragement not for my own pride, but to let me know if I should keep doing this kind of thing. I lost my ticket a long time ago to be a teacher; this is more along the lines of encouragement so if it encourages you please say so. The next chunk will come in a day or two. Hopefully this will make me post.

Hebrews 6:18 (NASB-U)
so that by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have taken refuge would have strong encouragement to take hold of the hope set before us.

A New World

Light overpowered everything. There was no purpose in studying his surroundings. The penetrating brilliance was too intense to reveal anything. Jacob’s eyes were wide; unmoving, yet unharmed by the violence of the light there. The air had a cool fell to it. Or was it warm? No not warm either. It was just right. Just the temperature he thought it should be. He had never felt so comfortable in his entire life. There was no reason to do or say anything at all. So for a moment he did not, and his eyes began to grow accustomed to the starkness of the place. As he began to make out the elements of this new place, he realized why everything had been so hard to make out. Everything – or so it seemed – was white. Not just white, either, but radiant, pure, unfaltering and vivid. Light appeared to spring forth from everywhere and everything. Different shades of white became slowly distinguishable, and yet none of these shades were any more or less white than the others. The clearness of his sight should have been unnerving here but it was not. Nothing was concealed by intrusive shadows. There was only different shades of white: sky, earth (if you assumed they should be called that,) and every aspect of the scenery were clothed in the absence of color. Yet it was far from boring. More objects slowly came into focus, and he saw that there were just three things that could be made out in his entire field of vision. When his eyes had made themselves at home, he identified them as trees white, colorless, and still brimming with life and laden with leaves but unmoving due to the absence of wind. Jacob shifted his eyes downward, turning his attention toward a ridge on the ground that was just inches high, running forward and up another ridge which was much taller and stretched exactly perpendicular to the first. He saw that this second ridge, rising to a height twice his own, blocked his view of the world beyond. Looking behind, then about facing and walking, he tried to follow the smaller ridge to its end. That’s odd. It stopped just a few steps behind him. So he turned around again, and without frustration, set out to decide a plan of exploration. This place seemed to impart peace into his entire being; his thoughts were limited to observations. He didn’t even wonder about the reasons or the meanings behind what he saw, observing and internalizing everything with the simplicity of a child in a new and joyous place. It was as if the place was grafting itself into him, and if he had felt anything of the cautious feeling that accompanies new places normally, he would have worried about being diffused into the place. The world around him breathed in stillness, and was more alive than he was, though he would never have noticed, entranced by the peace that mixed with his blood and intoxicated with the thrumming life that was everywhere around him...

to be continued

New Worlds To Explore

Ok so it's not quite like going to a new state or country, but new horizons have appeared for this starving artist. I've picked up - very gingerly - a new medium to create pictures with. Pastels. I shunned them for 14 years now, although Monet or Manet, Degas, and many other master artists swore by them back when painting was alone in its ability to capture the world that our eyes sees every day ( no cameras. ) any hoo - i'm excited because pastels allow for a much more subtle blending approach ( not that I can do it well yet ) and thereby are an ideal tool for showing natural light and limited visibility scenes. I was blessed with a gift that would have cost me alot of money in a small set of Rembrandt soft pastels, and on down this new and untamed road I now am walking, a little afraid of unfamiliar scenery ( they make a lot of dust ) and stumbling alot ( think I might have lost a 50 dollar canvas to my inexperience already.) Well, I am posting a my first few attempts here, and for fun, I'll rephoto them and post again after I learn a little and 'spice them up.' I hope someone enjoys them. I also have decided to do a few things that, while harmless and silly, may seem a little erratic or foolish to others. Know why? There are fears and imaginings about my life that I have to get over to enjoy what is real in that life. All I have to lose by being eccentric, or chasing rabbit trails that may have nothing at the end is my pride and - read this part carefully - what I think others think about me. So off on some rabbit, or snipe hunts I go - my pride doesn't help me make others' lives better anyway, and maybe chasing an imaginary pot of gold I'll find some rainbows... maybe looking for an imaginary bird I'll get to smell some flowers. This is only life we're living anyway. Taking things too seriously is a seriously foolish way to behave. Trust me, I know. By the way if you want to buy any of this art, you can do so very cheap at www.artbreak.com, by way of paypal or money order - just look up danmarsh1 PLEASE Do. Pastels are expensive, and I'm no Degas but my work might even be worth something someday ( I've never heard of any of the artists featured on that antiques show... ) But even if you don't, hope you enjoy it.
Peace and Love Daniel

This is just a quick blog to recognize and thank the wonderful ladies in my life. In a time when loneliness could destroy me, these women have come through and been the pillars of my sanity, grounding me in reality though my mind is a storm of doubt, loneliness, and fear...

Thanks Lucy, my beloved truck, for faithfully accompanying me everywhere I go.

Thank you Louise, my keyboard, you respond perfectly to my fingers, reminding me that I know how to touch and feel, and saying things I could never say without you. Our relationship is young, but passionate and infinitely enjoyable.

and to Elise, my guitar, my oh my how beautiful your curves and sweet your voice - often my traveling companion, and the lady who reminded me that music never lets you down.

these sweet women, though much less romantic and soft than a real human lady, are very much bastions of hope and they protect the love and hope that I want to give to whomever shows up to help me tread these waters, and to walk ashore in love and peace. That lady will have much to thank these three for keeping me sane and keeping me hoping for romance and companionship.

it's often the little things that keep us fighting to surface when otherwise we would drown..



here's another of my poetic ramblings as well; since poetry is not very marketable these days, i'm thankful there is a blog world out there. hope someone enjoys this or realizes that someone has gone through the things they have... loneliness will be overcome in time. never give up on hoping that someone will find you. out of the 3 billion or so of us out there, someone somewhere knows what you feel like...

Feathers Underwater

where does loneliness lose my trail?
where in this world does hope still prevail for me?
with whom will the noise cease to pound against my soul
like quarter sized hail leaving pain like hot coals?
the wind strips through me;
isolation trying to undo me;
and even my own mind hurls insults and accusations.
I'd give everything I ever thought I needed to know
for a few intense months with some intoxicating soul;
my mattress I'd trade for a hand I could hold -
the shoes off my feet for two arms open wide -
see all this junk; the things that I've wanted;
the things that I've wasted and the things I have flaunted
are like feathers underwater or a firehose in the sea-
to someone who has no one with whom he can just be.



don't ever give up. faith, hope, and love - always