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

Quiet Down!

There is a comment that I am thankful for from His Dearest attached to the last blog. It reminded me how little wisdom I actually have, and since then I've been trying to listen more and speak less. And hopefully enjoy the flowers along the way.