disturbing the peace

A puke-green streetlight just came on, and I'd like to accuse the buzzing transformer of disturbing the peace.

I really mean this when I say that I was VERY close to solving one of the world's greatest and most pressing problems. And now, I've been thrown back into the moment, where I'm sitting in the bed of my truck and supposing that I should fix my own problems first, then move on (time permitting). My thoughts aren't connected in the same linear way they used to be. Whether it's the sleep loss or just the atrophy of an undisciplined mind, I don't know. But I'm lucky if I think two things in a row that make any sense together. Tonight I'm going to embrace the chaos and let my free-radicals flow at near atomic levels and hope that no one around me gets cancer:

Peace is possible. The kingdom of heaven is a way of living, a way of seeing the world. With a mask over your eyes that blinds you to all the things in the world that could never hurt you but you fear anyway. A chemical in the air you breathe, ubiquitous oxytocin connecting everyone with Divine love. A knowledge of what and who you were created to be.

Children help you see that. They live very close to the kingdom of heaven.

But two children screaming and inconsolable at the same time is a Purgatory.

I wonder all the time why we think we have discovered a comprehensive view of God, based on the writings of only a few, and why modern theological writing cannot be viewed as Scripture. I think St. Paul would be mortified to know that a few embarrassing, angry emails shot off to a rebellious group of his followers would someday be Holy Scripture. I wonder why it took me so long to realize that when Paul said "all scripture is God-breathed" he obviously wasn't referring to his own writings but of the old scriptures, the ones that people were reading in his time. All positive communication is God-breathed, including many of St. Paul's writings, and many of our words and writings to each other.

Beauty is EVERYWHERE. Every moment is redeemable when you realize that. You are never stuck somewhere. I love the excerpt from William Blake's Auguries of Innocence:

"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wildflower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour"

Finally, God is present.

I withdraw my accusation to the streetlight.