The Day My Face Fell Off

It was a day shy of two weeks before I would meet my fiftieth birthday when I stepped out of the epsom salt bath I was soaking my poison oak rash, and caught my reflection in the mirror.

Having worn bangs that cover my forehead since I was 11 years old, I don’t see that part of my face often. With my hair still very wet from the bath and plastered against my skull, it is my forehead that alerted me to the realization that my face had fallen off.

Maybe not completely off, I mean it didn’t slide to the floor, but, it had undeniably fallen. The deep lines that ran in two parallel lines like train tracks across my upper brow line and mid forehead were accentuated by the smaller, less dug in creases lower down along my mouth.

I had been working a solid program of denial with those lines and was getting by fine until this moment when that became impossible to continue. Once denial is irrefutably questioned, that is a forever unusable avenue of escape.

Escaping Reality

Truth is I don’t mind getting older. What I do mind is getting less enjoyable to look at. Uglier, if you will.
Do i personally think elderly people are ugly? No, not per se. But, I also don’t find them attractive in the sense that I would ever consider them sexually appealing. Like children, their appearance inspires an asexual aesthetic.
Which is fine.

It’s just not fine for me.

It dawns on me now that the reality is there are millions of people that have crossed that bridge physically and did not lose their sexual appetites while their faces and bodies lost their flavor. So while I gaze upon the seeming asexual face of the 70 something old woman in front of me, that woman probably has a burning desire to be sexually active and seen as a sexually vibrant person.

And, that, would be a terrible place to be. For me. Maybe not other people, but definitely for me.

There Comes the Day


When the day ends, there will have been many thoughts I would have liked to have shared with someone else and invariably, quite a few that would have been best kept within the confines of my skull.

No doubt, the confusion in there creates some challenges for the gatekeeper (my mouth) from distinguishing between the two.

To be fair, the lesser of them, in retrospect, are much more demanding to be heard than the words that should have been. Such is the paradoxical nature of life. Well, my life, any way.

But, if I were given foresight to know that this day, this very day, would be my last; that at today’s end every word I could or would speak would be accounted for and informed “It’s a wrap!”, this is the totality of that single bit of learned wisdom I would be compelled to leave behind as my last and final say in the matter of living:

To every single fellow human being that is yet to be or has not yet come to learn this universally, inescapable truth: You are a question that has no answer.

There may come a moment in the thrash and tumble of your otherwise unremarkable daily doing when you will realize that in every way that is possibly meaningful, you are very much alone with a problem of such existentially profound and personal suffering as to rip away any illusion you had that someone or something could deliver you from it.

“It” being experienced as what can be understood, only, as that visceral agony that attends our alienation as a human being completely, and irreconcilably separate from all other things living, thriving, lush with promises of hope, of yearning, of things eternal and pregnant with possibility; when our conscious frailty meets the constraints of self-reflected flesh mingling with common matter.

But no one will have prepared you for this moment. It comes cloaked and veiled by ordinary things. It lies waiting until an opening in the blackness of lost focus, a moment it finds your attention wandering unoccupied with no thought attending it. It is then, in the vulnerable crossroads of time when now is in its zenith of split second awareness that turns inwards towards itself and consumes the marrow of your mind as milky tendrils wind their way down drafty haunted halls of what is remembered, dust covered remains of obliterated understanding, that happens in the fractal span of eternity–an eternity that has abandoned you and  left you to suffer what it all means, alone. Completely and unequivocally alone.

You will realize all too soon that nothing *could* have prepared you for this moment. It escapes imagination. It defies the mind’s will to understand. But what you will only know once you’ve given yourself over to the demands of breathing in and breathing out long enough to let the deadness fall away around you, is that in this moment you are in a problem that has no solution. It becomes a problem that is not. All problems must have solutions. No solution, no problem.

You are a question that has no answer. Nothing exists on, in or below earth that can help relieve you of the torture that is the full bearing of this simple truth: nothing can bridge the distance between you and the life that bleeds all around and through you. Everything you believed of love, of happiness, of family, compassion and goodness lies dying at arm’s length away. This you will discover as instinctively you grasp for it with all of your mind’s intent. You will fail.

If you are one of the fortunate, failing, you will be broken. Not broken like splintered bone, but you will know you have been thoroughly destroyed. Whoever you believed yourself and everyone else to be is gone in that awareness of that being now impossible. It wasn’t really as you had thought, at all. Not at all.

Here, crawling on knees bent at cross roads all leading towards death and the vacuum of nothingness, you will find how blessed you are to be emptied and a perfect vessel for the Grace and Mercy given to you upon coming to call upon God in the anguish cries of your silent, private desperation. God willing, when this moment falls upon you, that you remember to submit to that awful truth and become your desperation.

This is the Golden Road to an Unlimited Devotion.

(original post October 2013)

Compound Cost of Rebellion

A rebellious man seeks only evil, So a cruel messenger will be sent against him.…Proverbs 17:11

uh oh.

This, in its highest reference, is an anticipation of the divine philosophy of St John, “sin is lawlessness” (ἡ ἁμαρτία ἐστὶν ἡ ἀνομία). “Sin is lawlessness. Sin and lawlessness are convertible terms. Sin is not an arbitrary conception; it is the assertion of the selfish will against a paramount authority. He who sins breaks, not only by accident or in an isolated detail, but essentially, the law which he was created to fulfill,” Westcott on 1 John 3:4.


“He that kicks against the pricks is waited for of the sword.” (Ancient Greek proverb)

…like the rebellious ox—driving the goad deeper and deeper.

“Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path” (Proverbs 15:10).

Brutally true.

“The way of the unfaithful is hard” (Proverbs 13:15).

No kidding. This must be the greatest understatement ever made.

Why I Am A Male Chauvinist

She describes a perspective I share with her better than I ever could.

Female Misogynist

Recently a commenter suggested that I post about how I became a female misogynist. I’ve been thinking about what to post.

I could summarize my life story, which has been an object lesson – though far from the worst one I know of – in the disastrous effects of allowing women power in society, but then, whose hasn’t? Most people of my generation and younger had mothers who were happy to be told that being a mother was something you could do in your spare time, between more important, “fulfilling” pursuits.

No one has been able to remain unaware that our schools, which are run almost entirely by women, have become hotbeds of violence and sexual assault in which little if any “learning” takes place, so I don’t need to recount my personal saga of spending my childhood being beaten up and groped by boys while the teachers watched happily…

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Human Being vs. Human Doing

As our President Elect makes putting everyone to work at any expense to the planet, progress or rationality, I am reminded that I am a human being and not a human doing.


A little more than a year ago, included in one of the poems being
written at the time, is a verse that conveys a question I had about the
subject of worth. After some reflection, what I realized is that
significance and worthiness are concepts that interfere with my
understanding of purpose.

Although our society and our physical needs require that people work or
labor in order to provide for themselves and one another, it is not the
work that has the significance. An epiphany of sorts was my realizing
that my purpose is not to work. The reason for my creation and subsequent survival
was never about having a job.

My purpose is to be exactly what I am best capable of being and making sure this being is
available when it matters.

This capability can and is often developed
through work, but work is the tool and not…

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Being Influenced by Someone Else’s Emotions

I think it’s fa3734f3ddd49651909ee177b15d4d4262ir to say that people, for the most part, when addressing a topic that they are invested in with considerable emotion, tend to oversimplify, polarize and in some cases, do everything in their power to make their point an emotional investment for those they are engaging with, as well.

And, because I think it matters, when people are arguing or just discussing things that are associated with strong emotion, it isn’t necessarily the same emotion they appeal to if when seeming to intend evoking a reaction from someone else.

The person who has anger attached to a subject could be appealing to someone else’s feelings of fear, for example. Emotion isn’t rational. Hence, it can’t make rational decisions. It is, however, amazingly effective in triggering emotion in other people, and much to other people’s dismay and surprise, at times. When someone is arguing with you or even just taking a very forceful position that seems polarized, it’s not a bad idea to determine if the person is attaching an emotion and which emotion is at play. The reason for doing this is to prepare yourself and brace against being pulled away from your own attempts to remain rational and reasonable by appeals to your emotion. Because it happens suddenly like a club over the head. This can be circumvented when you assume the risk is present and watch for it with every statement the other person makes.


Put Some Clothes On

Nothing says rational, nothing says mature, adult behavior, nothing says integrity, nothing says cohesive principles and nothing says unambiguity like 100 adult women representating their message of respect for all women and “nature” naked to a major national political media event.

Because objectifying women’s bodies is completely reasonable when done by those who use their bodies to garner attention they could not otherwise influence through less “empowered” avenues.

Because it is perfectly undetstandable that nudity is acceptable when women choose to manipulate their environment to pay them heed no matter what anyone thinks or how it may offend or confound the public.

These women and those supporting their antics are a laughing stock, confirming yet again the irrational, immature impetuous character disorder of feminist ideology.

You are an embarrassment to women and all adults. Evidently, not all women of adult age have the requisite mental maturity to be considered adults.
Which makes this stunt that much more disturbing if even possible.

Go put your clothes on and act your age. Or, at least make an effort. Any one can get naked. It doesn’t require much thought. Be really shocking and try using logical argument to persuade instead of weilding your sexual organs as weapons.

And while you’re up, find a dictionary and look up the word “hypocrisy”. That’s you.

On Life’s Terms

The concept of truth and law has forever appealed to some part of me that seeks an anchor. Truth and law, in my perspective, share this quality of immutability. Truth cares not at all what anyone’s opinion of it is, nor does it care if it is denied outright or perverted. It remains impervious to influence or time. It stands unchanged.

Something I say  often is that true laws are not broken. We don’t break the law. We break ourselves against a law.

This can comforting idea has carried me across more than one tide of a raging sea of human created storms of emotional insanity. My own, but more so those of others. Women in particular seem implausibly unaware or uninterested in the very real fact that our emotionally charged behaviors have an impact on the people and circumstances in their environment. Usually, the fallout has negative effects that go both unacknowledged and unaccounted for.

Partially so..accountability falls instead to someone else who must shoulder the aftermath of another person’s emotional life.

I am not suggesting that this tendency towards emoting is bad in and of itself. What is bad is the associated tendency to both deny this fact and to not be responsible for how it impacts others.

Men give women great feedback all the time that is wasted on denials and resentments that could instead be used to expand understanding, practice self control and generally, be happier.

I have been working construction jobs that have really pushed me physically and mentally. I’m finally returning to my pre-illness weight and muscle tone but it’s more taxing than it was a few years ago.

This is because of one of life’s truths: as time progresses, our bodies change as we pass through the seasons that will eventually become our demise. Living things get old and die. By the grace of God, that is if not cut down sooner by accident, injury or illness.


Simple truth. Not pleasant, yet undeniable.

Because of my work, I engage with both younger men and those about my age every day. I take this opportunity to talk about relationships to women and what’s going on in their lives. Many are single dads.

One of my signature lectures is about choosing t