Numb Introduction

I didn't want to be there,
As a child with no serious intents funerals seemed uninteresting. Spider man got me excited, black clothes and mourning did not. And neither was the thought of staying 4 hours listening to a old guy talk. I was already set to leave in a few minutes to my friends house, so all I did was walk around a bit. The woman had died of pancreatic cancer and I had known her my entire life, and being the pastors wife she always talked to my family on a personal level. She sang songs and taught them to kids. She cared for my mom when my grandmother was so far away. The one thing I could not picture her do was die.

The moment me and my sister walked into the church she saw the body in the front as clear as day. My glasses were broken and therefore everything I saw was blurry. No matter how hard I squinted I could not see the casket at the front of the church. When the body caught my sisters eye she gasped for air. My mother asked her if she was ok and she said yes. But even though the thought of death dismayed her my sister she continued to try to find a better view.

I tend to remember my life in little bits and pieces. And more often then not those pieces like to connect each other like pins on a map. This piece in my life is memorable simply because of it's connection into the topic of my biggest fear; death.

I don't know why I fear death. Maybe it's the overwhelming sense of non existence, or your loved that stay behind on the trail of time. Or maybe it was the fear of losing all senses. To not feel,see, or know anything unless it is told to you. But when no one is willing to speak to you then you have no choice but to talk to yourself.

That is how I felt. Shivering in "holy" water after baptism as I waited for an over whelming sense of emotion. Watching plays about the crucifixion and forcing a tear to fall out of my 9 year old face. Laying my back on the rough hot gravel and waiting to hear Gods audible voice. I wanted to feel. I wanted to cry. I wanted to fall on my knees just like everyone else in that crowded church but I couldn't. For my knees were numb with death.

This is the story of a pastors child. How my deepest fears became by surest ground, and how the most precious message in all of history broke the encrustacions of my hardened heart and showed me things I never thought the human eye could see.

The Thirsty

Says the God that yells to the man senseless in the desert. "Come for there is water for those who are thirsty!" The man senseless in the desert dismisses the gentle words of the kind figure and walks in the same circle his father and his fathers father have walked. Till his feet bleed and his eyes dry up the man wil continue to find his own way. Another man who bears the sins of his fathers tainted blood walks through the barren and scalding valley. His path is filled with pain and suffering. And with no more will to live the man falls onto the magma of the burning sand. The figure standing by the well rushes to him and picks him up in his firmly gentle arms. There the man gave him water of the purest kind. Once the man was no longer thirsty he did not stand up and walk out of the tent, but lay down in awe of the unconditional kindness of the figure. 

Greater is the grief for he who drinks but does not thirst then he who thirsts but does not drink. 

I do not know...

Is it primitive? 

To wish for something more then rithing in the filth of man? 

To fufill a purpose that I myself did not predestine? 

To die in the upmost certainty knowing that I did not die? 

In my school there is a friend.

A friend that is devout muslim above all else.

Praying to a god that was never there.

And being certain in the void. 

I feel as though God has been unfair.

As I see a person so full of Love and devotion all of a sudden falling into the abyss of sensless prayer.

My heart stings.

As I walked home from school, I took a different path and spoke to God out loud. 

Something I do not do often.

I yelled, I cried and I shook my angry fist at the heavens. 

I became ragefull towards the dead beat manevolent God. 

I questioned his plan.

I hated his mind.

Why would you condemn such a sorry soul as this? 

He did not know better.

Like a sheep being led into the slaughter but believing in a banquet.

So was he.

As my anger subsided.

And my place in the universe came clear. 

I fell in the moist winter ground. 

And I did not question him anymore.

I begged for his soul. 

I yelled and yelled begging and begging for the soul of a friend who I loved so much.

And in the midst of the chaos of my primitive mind, I heard the whisper.

Not a audible voice it was. Not quiet and not loud, just...him.

I came to the realization that if God almighty did not love my friend then I would have never met him.

I would have never showed him the beauty and truth of your love.

Instead he would have continued to go around in circles enjoying his imminent and oblivious doom. 

I stood up and realized the sacred truth written on the tablet of my heart.

I shall not question the enigma, but embrace it

Dear Mr. Zacharias...

Here I think I know. 

Here I think I show.

All that I learned. 

All that I have yearned. 

Will mean nothing on the opposite side. 

Will do nothing but reside. 

When every eye looks. 

No one will turn to their books. 

When every ear hears. 

No one will listen to his ears

When every hand is raised. 

No one will be called the crazed. 

Though every man bow.

And every woman shout. 

The door will remain small. 

And the hole remain wide. 

And every saint that perished.

Will no longer be famished. 

Mr. Zacharias, as I am writing this I lie in confusion and indecisivness. Wondering if this shy, boy can have the courage to place this in your hands. Please, do not show this to anyone. I do not wish to be rememmberd and praised. Talked about, or written of. I write this to tell you that every letter that you have written shaped my inner being. With my frozen soul there needed a man with a bright enough torch to burn the encrustations of my heart. As I grew up in a home with the name of Christ being taught. I became numb to him. Never actually feeling his warmth, or seeing his hands. Every word you have utterd broke my heart. I came to know Christ. I am walking with him closer the ever before. And every day his tug on my soul becomes harder and harder. As I walk into a school where his words are hollow, you remind me his name is golden. As I stare into the void of senseless thought you remind me of his whispers in my ear. When I heard that you were coming to my area. My eyes welled up with tears of joy. It was as if the healer of my broken mind was drawing near. I do not wish to idolize you. I very well know the danger of that. What I want you to know is that God put you here in the infancy of my salvation. I have no money to give but this poem. I wrote it among many others after hearing your sermons. I wish I could give you more. Your ministry is a beacon among the darkness of society. And as I close this, I wish to thank you one more time for everything you have ever done to me. And if God has spoken to me in any way it is in this way; to encourage a man whos meekness if soul, and humble heart can shatter the shambled and scattered peices of a broken society. A man who's torch will never go dim. And who's faith will never fade away.

Eye gouging

If I could destroy by carnal self I would. If I could live as a being of pure will I would. If all my wants were nothing but fading thoughts I would rejoice. 

But they're not... 

I lie in cold despair with my rebellios body. Like a stubborn mule it kicks back and forth keeping me from true surity. I beat my chest attempting in some way to free my soul, but it laughs with a blood curdling cry. I climb to the highest point and yell a deep, true, and raw yell. Screaming till my lungs scream with me. And in one momment I realize that all the bitter actions I could do. All the self harm I could inflict. Would do absolutley nothing in the grand sceme. To purge this disease they call humanity. To gouge out the sinful eyes and throw them into the deepest pit of the earth. The tears that fall out of those eyes are tears of frustration, Of struggle, and of pain. The encrusted heart that Paul spoke of has been broken. The hard heart that Ramsees could not break shatterd. The only thing that remained was a heart of flesh. The only thing. The ONLY thing that could free me. Is grace. My want and purpose is not to understand the enigma, but to embrace it. 

Prayer

Lord, as I walk into the day with hands held high, may your infinite wisdom guide me in my ways. Help my stumbles be few and my victories be numorous. Help me be a beacon of light amongst the terror of the dark. Take my tongue and let it be yours. Let my understanding show your face to the blind. Make every word that falls off my tongue be glory to you and to you alone. Let and every stone that is thrown at your name fade away in the enigma of your love. Let all the things that happen today be worthy of your recognitiom. Let it be the so that the creation worships its creator. 

In Jesus name, Amen. 

Examinations of the unseen

Am I real? Am I a son of God or a worker of iniquity? Do I proclaim the name of Jesus Christ yet spit in his face? Do I deny his name yet speak of it wherever I go? Why do I feel so unsure of myself? Like a lier teaching the children. My tongue curling up and spitting works of despair among the innocent. I say I am a Christian, yet I swear, curse, and do imoral acts as the world does. What if it's all an illusion. What if all my hungers for Christ result in my rebuking on the other side. What if all the things I've done to draw nearer to him mean absolutley nothing in my judgement? The word of God says to examine ourselves. To see chinks in the armor and exploit them. See if they're real. And only when you have been tested will you know you truly are a son of God. As I write this my Bible has been seperated from me. I recently left it at someones house. And although I feel terribly disconnected from my inner soul I continue to study the word. In this words of the poem by John Piper; 

See him in his pen. 

Written line and then. 

Better thought preferred. 

Deep from in the Word.

The Void

Said the man that had no hope...

A man who hated the earth he was born on.

A man who longed for more.

A man who looked to the stars.

Searching and probing, picking and proding he looked.

arriving on a planet that had our appearence.

Beared our water.

Flowed with our air.

Stepping on that lonely planet with the upmost confidence.

Sure that what he will find would be what he needed.

the answer...

What he found was nothing.

Vacancy

The void

The very thing that plagues the nothing plauged that planet.

But as he looked far away into the vastness of space.

He saw his home.

Flowing with his memories of hate and suffering, yet bursting with the oppurtunity.

But on this day he could not reach out and touch it.

Or swim in its water.

Or play in its sand.

All he could do was bathe in the sun of nothingness

as his already fading hope faded away.

The Foggy Road

Oh how clouded this is...

As I watch men and women falling down backwards speaking in tongues.

Saying words that have no meaning.

Prophesying events that will never happen.

I feel like a man walking amongst a foggy road.

Trying to find what everyone is talk about.

All I hear is the people clamoring about this Jesus.

A man who saved them and loved them.

Cared for them not hated them.

On a foggy meadow I call out in my confusion.

And instead of following my understanding.

Or go by what I "feel"

I place my hand on the wall to my right.

The very wall everyone had so clinged to in the beginning.

And I walk by it.

Never letting go or walking away.

And at the end of my journey.

I will find him

alone and without anyone...

Isolation

I feel alone...

Not in the spacious sense but in the emotional sense. 

In a school like this, I believe it normal to feel a bit isolated. 

A man can think very hard when he's been alone with his thoughts for this long. 

Mind you I don't need a girlfriend.

I think that would only impede my mission.

And although it would be good, I have a focused purpose.

I need to become academically, and knowledgable of all things school. 

Mainly so I can do what I want to do with my life,

That being To proclaim the name of Jesus Christ all over this world.

All over... 

Fisherman Prologue (few scenes)

It was about Noon when Luke arrived at the house. It was round and etched into the side of a cave. Clearly not a place fit for any human. Luke could of almost sweared the entire house would come collapse in seconds under the harsh winds but he continued to walk foward. The weather was bizzare in this part of the world it was almost as if everything in the world was keeping him from meeting this man. He looked through the windows but couldn't see a soul. He was frustrated. All his leads pointed to this place, the last peice of a puzzle he's been putting together for 3 years now was now seemingly gone. In denial Luke looks again but sees no one. Taking out his interview documentation he looks for the explicit location that was suprisingly wrong.

Luke had no where to go this time of night. An inn was too far off and it was already getting late. Luke yelled at himself for being so confident of this lead. And at that momment Luke accepted that the entire project was a waste of time.

He looked around for a place to sleep. The only descent places to sleep was under a small table used for gutting fish, or a old boat tied to a wood pillar. Luke placed his hands on the old wood of the boat feeling its every crack and flaw. Sighing he took out his cloth and placed it on the boat. hewa sabout ready to sleep when a words broke the silence.

"You there!"

Luke turned around cautionsly and saw him who he so desired to meet.

"Oh thank God," said Luke under his breath. "My name is Luke, I've come long and far to meet you sir."

The shadows that shrouded Peter were broken from the moonlight and Luke could finally see his face.

"You...are Peter aren't you?"

"Yes." Said Peter. "But what do you want and how did you find me?"

"I'm here to interview you. I've been writing a documentation, and I was wondering if you could give me some first hand accounts of your experience with Jesus of Nazereth...sir."

The Blind

Why can't they see?

Why can't they feel the very God they believe touch their hearts and shatter it to a million shards.

Why does the pride that cover their eyes crumble under the light of your truthful word.

Why doesn't the voice coming out of the wilderness cause them to fall prostrate before you?

Oh Lord...

I do not understand.

None will. Not in our states of inferiority.

Only in those last days when you make your power known.

When the moon dries up, and every tree fall, then they will listen.

Then they will hear, but it will not be the voice I heard...

Not words of Love but words of destruction towards the wicked.

All those who have looked God in the face and spat will be punished in ways this universe have never known.

True pain and suffering will echo throughout the halls of history.

When the blind will be judged for their transgressions.

And the seeing rewarded for their faithfulness.

Every tongue will praise your name.

 In every crevice of the earth you created there will be a voice.

A choice of complete submission

But that Is not what the most high has asked.

"Lord! Can you not see the cathedrals of beauty we have risen up in your name! The power we have accumulated by proclaiming your word!

But the Lord will turn around staring into their beeing like a light in the darkness.

"Depart from me. Men of iniquity..."



For all will be judged...

Destiny

I don't understand...

I'm so confused yet so focused on my purpose. When I met Christ a few months a go my heart was freed from senseless thought, and I met the one who I needed to meet. I learned and studied the faith I know to be true and in just a few weeks challenged the thoughts of my peers. And I am no boastful person filled with pride and contempt, and I do not know the will of God but I know beyond a shadow of the smallest doubt what I have to do.

My love for Christ and his words have driven me to think about going to places I've never imagined. And I do not care If I have to live off small rations and sleep in the rain, but I know that I will preach God's words in the darkest and coldest places of this world. Where all they know is death and Sacrifice I will be there. Where all they have been taught is hate and contempt I will be there. And where the name Yeshua has never been spoken and proclaimed I will be there dying for them. I will spend hours with the diseased telling them of the good news that they need to know. And even if my final breath in this world is a word of encouragement I will proclaim it, declare it till my throat shrivels up and rots in the deepest darkest hole of this earth.

I swear that my love for Christ will not stop here where his words are hollow...

but where his name is gold....

Heads up for my future self...

I love Blogger. I think its great and something that I'm going to be attached to for a while. Not the social aspect of the website but more the idea that everything I'm writing is easily accessible and can be saved very simply. So for the span of a year or even more time I will be writing a book that I plan on writing for myself more then to share with other people. The book will be called The Fisherman. The will be a first person account of Peter and how he met Christ. The opening will consist of Luke interviewing Peter for his Gospel and how he reminisces about all the experience he has had about his short time with the Son of God. So each Chapter, intro, epilogue will be pieced together in the end to reveal a great book that I plan on publishing.

Thank you.

Part 3: Connsumation: The End of All Things

The final stage in my salvation was consummation. The time when all things are made right, and crying will be a passing thought, a vapor in the wind of a life long past. The person who influenced my views of the afterlife was the literary genius C.S Lewis and this book The Last Battle. 

The book goes in depth on the concept of corruption and failure and Evils temporary reign. But the ending of the book shocked me to the core. It was the last nail in the coffin of my belief. The moment when the 3 sections intersected.

When they crossed each other it revealed the most beautiful tapestry I have ever seen. A painting revealing a love story that defied reality, and how the most powerful and perfect being in all the universe saved us from our selves. How the pride of an individual led to corruption of the heart. How the only God made himself known. How millions died for this story founded in truth and relevance. Even though every odd was against them God moved their hands and they triumphed. How he did not choose the elite in mind, but the meek of soul. How he looked to his creation and saw a plan, a plan that was beyond what our finite minds can fathom.

So symmetrical...

Consummation was the final nail. It made so much sense I had to put down my book and smile. Close my eyes and imagine. Imagine a world without tears, a world without pain, a world free from my wants. A world he wanted. A world that needed death to know love. To show everyone that he was not hateful but loving. Not clueless but and artist. That he was not benevolent, but irresistible...

The greatest work of art in all of existence. So incredible, Complex, Spectacular, and Articulate.

And when I stood cold outside holding the very book thousands have died protecting...

Breath the air you crafted...

Stand on the ground you formed...

I smiled with the most reassurance, most peace I have ever felt in my entire life. And despite of the bitter cold that morning I looked outward and said;

"Come sooner..."

Ehyeh asher ehyeh

"I am that I am" or in Hebrew "Ehyeh asher ehyeh" "I will be that I will be"
This claim sticks with me for some reason. maybe it's the attractive wordings that the verse has. Or the verbal beauty of the Hebrew language, but none the less it makes the hairs on my neck stand up. The God of the entire universe.

DNA
the cell
the eye
nebula
galaxies
stars
time
earth
you....

The most powerful and the only entity in the universe looks upon us in all his beauty.

He who crafted the snowflakeswith his steady hand

Or shook the earth to tremble it's foundations.

Scatter the stars like paint on a canvas,

and yet...

he looks at you with a eye of an artist.

seeing your faults and chaotic mind.

And shaping his already beautiful creation to what he sees.

Creating chaos out of chaotic order.

Look to the trees!

All unified by one root yet chaos unites them!

He is! He was! He always will be...

The Alpha and the Omega...

The only thing at the beggining of the journey

And also the one who greets you at your end.

The same God who was there in the beggining is the same God who always will be.

All creation!

Every plant that sprouts, every lion that roars, every bird that sings, every moutain that trembles, every snowflake that falls, every eye that sees.

screams

his

name

And at the end of all things when the moutains crumble into the sea, and the moon is the only light we see

He'll be there

And the author of Creation, Salvation, and Connsumation will say those 3 words;

Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh 

I am that I am...

The skeptic and the Senseful

Yeshua grasps the weary hand of the skeptic, and looks into his eyes. No critical words of insult just his eyes pering into the very soul of this man. The man stays in shock, in awe of this man who he did not know. Just the look Yeshua gave to this man tore his every being apart.

"Oh lord... Leave me alone.."

The man falls on his knees and every ounce of diginity this man had accumulated crashed down as he layed down crying grasping his face with frustration. The tears peirced the floor's glowing grains of sand that numberd the stars. No words the man could say speechless. He did not need to for this Lord knew his thought.

Death, where is your sting?

Is it normal that my bones don't chill? 

Is it normal that I feel endless?

With no end in sight a man does not fear something as menial as death.

Something so insignificant and finite.

So small it becomes humorous. 

For a man that has died twice Death is no threat. 

No menace to fear...

No peril that forebodes...

No end I see in sight.

I look far into the ocean of time. 

squinting my human eyes to see.

I see a beggining

I see a middle 

But I see no end...

So  I say to you oh bringer of death

Where is your sting?

Numb: The cold salvation of a pastors child

What foes it mean to be dead? Of course it's very cliche to open a book like this with a question, and honestly thats not the question I'm here to answer or the story Im here to tell. I grew up a child of a pastor in brookfield, Ct. Never at one point did I ever question the christian faith or ponder it's commandments. Inspect it's flaws or delve any deeper. I was faithful or at least half of the words definition. I knew it to be true. The only truth, and I wasn't so stupid when it came to the subject of theology and ethics. My dad is a baptist, Calvinist, hardcore pastor that hangs to the faith like nothing I've ever seen. I envied him for the sole reason envied everyone else at my church. They felt. That may seem confusing but quite self explanatory. They felt the remorse and power of Gods word. They cried and felt helpless and humble and the feet of the almighty savior they so firmly believed in. They had a holy spirit that drove them to do works that went far beyond what anyone could do. Just like what it says in the songs "take me deeper then my feet could ever wander"  

That's all I ever wanted. 

And when I saw people fall on their knees and worship all I felt was death. Not just being devoid of a conscience but having the inability to feel anything.  Mourning, and crying were only things I could achieve when I encountered physical pain and punishment, and not something I could do by listening, hearing, or remembering. Until my salvation I never felt sensitive emotion or pain and at the age of 10 I took a bath in Previously used water or as I called it back then Baptism. 

Do you know how it feels? For everyone around you to be moved and you stay still, expecting the holy spirit to come upon you in a glorious fashion but only to lie cold shivering in unholy water? Its terrible, unbalanced pain, the likes of which I can only explain as a dead spirit overlooking its own living body. 

And who was this Jesus? To me he was the son of God, exactly what he claimed to be. When he exclaimed that he was the way the truth and the life it seemed to me only as words. Thats it. Until you are touched by the holy spirit that's what the message is to you; hollow words and failed promises. It wasn't till I had reached my final point did I see him. Not when I was happy, rich and gleeful. But when I had no where else to reach, no more voice to yell, and no more hardness of the human heart. By the time I was saved I was on the point of Agnosticism. It seemed likely enough. Why invest in riches and powers I could not feel when I could indulge in the pleasures and shallow yet attractive ideas man had to offer. The bible was a book, Jesus was a man, and God is an idea. My mind was clouded mainly to the High school environment.    

My whole life up to that point I had been taught at a first assembly of God school. My critiques of the school are beside the point, but what does matter is that I was sheltered, and was never taught to defend my faith outside of that building. So when the first naturalist I had ever met asked me if God contradicts science I stood speechless, and for the first time I saw chinks in the shining armor which my very life was dedicated to defending. I spent hours with my face planted in my hands. The evil one taunting my hands to pick up a knife that would only bring my demise. In those days of silence I felt loneliness. My father felt this feeling and  describes it very avidly saying that there was a vacancy that couldn't be filled by any idea. In the words of the philosopher tostoy "There is a god shaped hole in man's heart that only God can fill."  

Pain of the separation of the body

It still hurts...

The shell of my previous shell aches with pain. I feel the nerve endings being torn from the flesh, the carnal desire. To say a walk with Christ is no journey is wrong. A journey that is worth every second. Not a selfish journey filled with the reward of pride. But a humble one filled with pain and suffering. Ideas upon ideas being sold to me by the deceitful, and yet I refuse to trade Christ. I refuse to give away the only good in me. A treasure with no price. I will fight till my feet bleed, till my eyes are dim, and till my body crumbles to dust. No human can tear me from you. No amount of money, no temptation of lust can ever draw me away. It may be a journey...

But I already know the outcome...

Clarification

Just to clarify to whatever person wanders around this part of the internet.

This is not for you...

This is for me. All the posts you see aren't spell checked or drafted, but are simply thoughts that need to be on a page before they disintergrate in the trenches of my finite mind. I made this blog so I could see myself grow not only as a Philosophic writer but as a follower of Christ...

Home...

My feet are in the sand.

I hear my thoughts as though they were words on a page. I look at my hand.

Bizzare..

Everything so bizzare. I fall on my knees and look up.

The skies are different...

No memory of anything else. The innoscence of a child in the body of a man. But I was no man.

What is this? 

I put my entire arm in the sand. I feel it's coolness. Its light blue color almost glowing. And for the first time I breathed.

Oh Lord...

And in that moment when the air flowed through my body I knew where I was.

Home...

Part 2: Jesus the Son of god

Week 2: Jesus: The Son of God

         - Previous to accepting Christ I never actually understood the gravity of his words. When he said "I am the Alpha, and the Omega, the beggining and the end" That resinated with me. It made me feel sick in the stomach with fear but yet in comfort. Emotions swirling in such a clouded head I had. Millions of Ideas, thoughts, sexual, non sexual, violent, and self harming. All these plummeted towards me, and for few days I felt real darkness. Vacancy and Void. Staring into an abyss of dead, cold, and senseless thought. 

Then he stretched out his hand.

 As I drowned in my filth the was the only light I could see. Like A lighthouse a midst the storm I needed him. Looking back on it I think what made be believe was the simplicity. Look to the cross. No hoops to jump, no money to give, no guilt to be had just him. The only, My all in all, the First and the last. 

That's when I met him

Not just read his word or watch his movies. But actually meet him. 

Part 1: Yahweh The Only

Is it wierd to say Im homesick of a place I've never visited? Over the past couple months of given my life to Christ and as I'm beggining to see a pattern. In a almost symetrical and perfect order I discoverd the 3 sections the bible is cut into. Of course no scholar or pastor will tell you this, but from personal expeirience I believe it to be true.

Week 1: Yahweh: the God of the Old testement
         -When I was first converted I began in chronology of the word. i started with the God of the old testement Yahweh, The great I am, the way the bible describes this invisible God was enough to attract my attention. And how he was the first Monotheistic God that other nations feared! Im serious pay attention; When Joshua came upon Jericho the people feared the Isrealites simply beacause they heard what happened at the Red sea. The sheer power and authority. No other god in fiction spoke of himself the way he did. Power, real power. A voice that beant reality, and breath that scorched mountains. He was not the same. He was unique, and he above all elese stood out like a beacon of light a midst the darkness of human pride.

Order in the most ordinary

Order in the Ordinary:

 - NathanMaciel

It’s kind of difficult to put a definition on something as general as art. It spans thousands of concepts of craftsmanship that go across the annals of history. It would take years and essays upon mindless essays and we would come to a simple conclusion that everyone already knows. Art is subjective. It varies differently from person to person, and never has a definitive face or object.  But the word Artist is not the same. An Artist is a person that practices and creates art. And although we can’t put a single face on what he creates we can analyze the creator. 

I’m wondering how selfish it would be to say that I’m an artist. I don’t like putting titles on things. And since nothing by man is absolute and I don’t like pretending it is. My families on my dad’s side are insane intellectuals. They span across very different art forms but all have a constant in the way they speak and live. They all see things other people don’t. I personally think I’ve adopted this curse, slightly against my will. When everybody else mocks a movie for being too boring and repetitive, I see patterns. When people hear a song that is hollow I see symbols. When people frustrate themselves with a difficult artistic craft I recognize the purpose and see it out. At a time I would of loved just to drop a boring book, but couldn’t, just beacause I saw something.

 Another constant is that they all have issues with their sanity. Take Van Gogh for example. Whether or not you believe he already had the disease, it’s no doubt his artistic vision did not aid his insanity. Michelangelo, Edvard Munch , and Louis Wain are just some of the examples of people that suffered from mental conditions.

These men and women were at their core artists. People who sought for something more that the world could not offer them. They saw things that other people didn’t and were therefore tormented. I could think of many more examples but this is beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that defining an artist is much simpler and possible then defining art, and knowing the creator is much easier then discovering the creation

Life is not his way…

The creation is very evident. Where we are placed and What we see is a very simple question to answer. Hell, look outside. There you have it earth, man’s greatest mystery. Why we see it is what puzzles.  A purpose to the art drives man to think harder than ever before.

If you walked into a forest and saw a beautiful fine art landscape canvas hung on a rotting tree, you would ask why First not what.

Why would such a talented artist place a work of art amidst the rotting woods of the forest? A man asks why but never should he look at the art and say it came by chance and simple beginnings. It simply does not happen and shouldn’t even count as a human thought unless you were deliberately imagining a world without the artist. The same analogy can be applied to the “Christian God.

Me On the Concept of Heaven

Me on the concept of Heaven

                  - Nathan Maciel

Heaven is something quite interesting isn’t it?

How can something so far away feel so close?

Why does the simple thought of consummation tremble within me?

Why does my home feel so close yet eons away?

Through time, and space it speaks to me.

Through faithful words it declares to me

like a mother calling her child home, I too hear its voice.

When my boat lands on that beach.

The shores of time and glory.

No words on this page can describe that emotion.

The breath of Air celestial.

The sight I see miraculous.

And the life I see behind…finished.

Maybe I won’t know I’m was.

Maybe It will all seem Like a dream.

The passed life fading away like salt in water.

As I look to my loved ones I will not see their failures and 

wrongs.

Or their rights, and works. 

But them.

There in that place I will rediscover people I always knew.

Unraveling the world together.

Peeling pack the hollow shell we once were and reveling what we 

never were.

Discovering the one we never knew.

Seeing his face finally in that place of mystery.

When I look into his eyes.

I will see all I wanted to hear.

And smell all I wanted to see.

Every day we will walk among the skies he created.

Breathed the air he breathed.

Walk the steps he paved.

Every day we will see the time pass and It will mean nothing to 

us.

Countless Ages we will spend together.

I will know him as much as he knew me.