Writing Progress

The Last Symphony of Juan Garcia 

The Woods above the World

The Gardens above Safed Koh (short story spin-off of The Woods above the World

Places Worth Visiting
Favorite Quotes and Passages
  • A Grief Observed
    A Grief Observed
    by C. S. Lewis

    "But perhaps I lack the gift. I see I've described her as being like a sword. That's true as far as it goes. But utterly inadequate by itself, and misleading. I ought to have said 'But also like a garden. Like a nest of gardens, wall within wall, hedge within hedge, more secret, more full of fragrant and fertile life, the further you explore. And then, of her, and every created thing I praise, I should say 'in some way, in its unique way, like Him who made it. Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. to the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful."  -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

  • The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gift Set
    The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gift Set
    by J.R.R. Tolkien, J. R. R. Tolkien

    "Yes, that's so," said Sam. "And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same - like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?" -Sam Gamgee in Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien 

  • The Everlasting Man
    The Everlasting Man
    by Gilbert K. Chesterton

    "But it was not the strange story to which anybody paid any particular attention; people in that world had seen queer religions enough to fill a madhouse.  It was something in the tone of the madmen and their type of formation. They were a scratch company of barbarians and slaves and poor and unimportant people; but their formation was military; they moved together and were very absolute about who and what was really a part of their little system; and about what they said. However mildly, there was a ring like iron.  Men used to many mythologies and moralities could make no analysis of the mystery, except the curious conjecture that they meant what they said. All attempts to make them see reason in the perfectly simple matter of the Emperor’s statue seemed to be spoken to deaf men. It was as if a new meteoric metal had fallen on the earth; it was a difference of substance to the touch.  Those who touched their foundation fancied they had struck a rock." -G.K. Chesterton, Everlasting Man

  • The Complete Poems of John Keats (Modern Library)
    The Complete Poems of John Keats (Modern Library)
    by John Keats

    MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains  
      My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,  
    Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains  
      One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:  
    'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,          5
      But being too happy in thine happiness,  
        That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,  
              In some melodious plot  
      Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,  
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.   10
     
    O for a draught of vintage! that hath been  
      Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,  
    Tasting of Flora and the country-green,  
      Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!  
    O for a beaker full of the warm South!   15
      Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,  
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,  
              And purple-stainèd mouth;  
      That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,  
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:   20
     
    Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget  
      What thou among the leaves hast never known,  
    The weariness, the fever, and the fret  
      Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;  
    Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,   25
      Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;  
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow  
              And leaden-eyed despairs;  
      Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,  
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.   30
     
    Away! away! for I will fly to thee,  
      Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,  
    But on the viewless wings of Poesy,  
      Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:  
    Already with thee! tender is the night,   35
      And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,  
        Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays  
              But here there is no light,  
      Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown  
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.   40
     
    I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,  
      Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,  
    But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet  
      Wherewith the seasonable month endows  
    The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;   45
      White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;  
        Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves;  
              And mid-May's eldest child,  
      The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,  
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.   50
     
    Darkling I listen; and, for many a time  
      I have been half in love with easeful Death,  
    Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,  
      To take into the air my quiet breath;  
    Now more than ever seems it rich to die,   55
      To cease upon the midnight with no pain,  
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad  
              In such an ecstasy!  
      Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—  
        To thy high requiem become a sod.   60
     
    Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!  
      No hungry generations tread thee down;  
    The voice I hear this passing night was heard  
      In ancient days by emperor and clown:  
    Perhaps the self-same song that found a path   65
      Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,  
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn;  
              The same that ofttimes hath  
      Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam  
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.   70
     
    Forlorn! the very word is like a bell  
      To toll me back from thee to my sole self!  
    Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well  
      As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.  
    Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades   75
      Past the near meadows, over the still stream,  
        Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep  
              In the next valley-glades:  
      Was it a vision, or a waking dream?  
        Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?


Things That Are Above

That verse has been on my mind ALL day!

"Set your mind on things above, not on things below, for you have died and your life is hidden in Christ, when He appears, you also shall appear with Him in glory" -Colossians 3:3-4

Every day seems to have a totally unique flavor to it - like how every snowflake is unique or every fingerprint is one-of-a-kind.  Even in the "rut" of our routines, each day isn't exactly the same as any other day in history.  It's actually kinda mind-bottling to think about.

On that note, there are days that are just plain hard.  Days where the heart longs, aches, wrestles, struggles, strives, strains, and sighs.

But anyone who has hidden themselves in Christ can take comfort in the truth that someday all such longings and achings will come to an end: "every tear will be wiped away."

In life, we have a lot of "if only" wishes.  "If only...." (fill in the blank) then I would be perfectly happy.  Yes, there are things on earth that bring us a delirious amount of happiness, but nothing 100% wipes away our tears while we're on this earth.  No matter how green the grass is that you walk on, there is always difficulty, wrestlings, and pain in life.  Only Jesus has the ability to someday 100% wipe away all our tears.  No experience or happiness found on earth will ever be able to do that completely.

And so that's why we set our minds on Heaven - on things above!  If we're too short-sighted, looking at things that will happen in our earthly lives as the ultimate solution to our soul's hungers, then we are tricking ourselves.  Only the King of Kings can fulfill what our hearts ultimately long for.  Only the Good Shepherd!

May our King be our hiding place!

(and speaking of hiding places, I like this picture portraying a child finding shelter from the storm in the covering of their parent - this is a beautiful depiction of how we hide in the refuge of Abba Father to stay safe from the many storms that can hit us each day)

Inner Gate, Outer Gate, Wax On, Wax Off

I had kung fu class this morning at 7:30am (not a group class, but a private lesson with the sifu).  Best.  Class.  Ever.  Totally did the wax on, wax off motions, just like Hollywood movies, haha.  I was trying to stop myself from smiling while training.  Felt like a little kid when he sees a movie and goes out practicing all the moves he saw in the movie, haha.

The whole wax on thing is true though - the purpose is to protect what kung fu calls "the gates."  It divides the body into six quadrants called gates.  Though to make it simpler, they usually only refer to the inner gate, outer gate, lower gate and upper gate of the body.  The "wax on" defense protects a certain gate.  Other defenses focus on protecting other gates.  In kung fu, they teach you to use both hands at the same time - along with the elbows and a certain sweeping motion - so that with a single move you can protect ALL of the gates at once!!  It's actually pretty amazing - extremely efficient, but very effective in defense.  Amazing stuff.

Here is a pic (poor image quality unfortunately) of the six gates:

But most importantly, here is a picture of a panda doing a kung fu kick:

Ode to Psyche

This is one of the great Odes written by John Keats.  I love the line: "At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love."  Amazing!

Without further delay, Ode to Psyche:

O GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken’d eyes?
I wander’d in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp’ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied:
’Mid hush’d, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,
They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass;
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch’d not, but had not bade adieu,
As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,
And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:
The winged boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?
His Psyche true!

O latest born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy!
Fairer than Phoebe’s sapphire-region’d star,
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;
Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heap’d with flowers;
Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours;
No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet
From chain-swung censer teeming;
No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming.

O brightest! though too late for antique vows,
Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,
When holy were the haunted forest boughs,
Holy the air, the water, and the fire;
Yet even in these days so far retir’d
From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,
Fluttering among the faint Olympians,
I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired.
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan
Upon the midnight hours;
Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet
From swinged censer teeming;
Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat
Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming.

Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane
In some untrodden region of my mind,
Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,
Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:
Far, far around shall those dark-cluster’d trees
Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep;
And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,
The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull’d to sleep;
And in the midst of this wide quietness
A rosy sanctuary will I dress
With the wreath’d trellis of a working brain,
With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,
With all the gardener Fancy e’er could feign,
Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:
And there shall be for thee all soft delight
That shadowy thought can win,
A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,
To let the warm Love in!

To My Brother George

Here is a beautiful sonnet by John Keats.  It's fascinating to imagine what the social situation might've been surrounding this sonnet...all at once the reader feels a little on the outside of what is happening, like an inside joke, but our imaginations can't help but create a storyline for the personal details mentioned within the sonnet.  I love the ocean imagery, especially.  It resonates with me on a personal level.  :) 

Regardless, it is a great work by Keats:

 

MANY the wonders I this day have seen:

The sun, when first he kist away the tears

That fill’d the eyes of morn; - the laurel’d peers

Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;-

The ocean with its vastness, its blue green,

Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears,-

Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears

Must think on what will be, and what has been.

E’en now, dear George, while this for you I write,

Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping

So scantly, that it seems her bridal night,

And she her half-discover’d revels keeping.

But what, without the social thought of thee,

Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?

The Most Popular Post

So, my blog has nifty stats that tell me which posts get the most hits.  And when someone finds my blog by searching for something on Google and inadvertently clicks on my blog, it tells me (even says the general location of where they're from). 

Well, the most popular post by far is "Honey Possums and Newborn Babies," the post that features pics of honey possums and a wee premie baby named Melody while she was still in the hospital, a couple months after being born.  People from ALL over the world have clicked on this post through Google - I mean we're talking every country you can think of, and some you might not think of at all: Pakistan, Australia, Sweden, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, England, Ireland, Africa, Spain, France...you name it.  That honey possum and that lil baby are both world famous now, apparently, hehheh.

Here is a link to the post, published on January 5th, 2010:

http://www.kevinott.net/home/2010/1/4/honey-possums-and-newborn-babies.html

One of the most fascinating things about running a blog is seeing the diverse amount of visitors from around the world!

Psalm 19:1-14

 How clearly the sky reveals God’s glory! How plainly it shows what he has done!

Each day announces it to the following day; each night repeats it to the next.

No speech or words are used, no sound is heard;

yet their message goes out to all the world and is heard to the ends of the earth. God made a home in the sky for the sun;

it comes out in the morning like a happy bridegroom, like an athlete eager to run a race.

It starts at one end of the sky and goes across to the other. Nothing can hide from its heat.

The law of the LORD is perfect; it gives new strength. The commands of the LORD are trustworthy, giving wisdom to those who lack it.

The laws of the LORD are right, and those who obey them are happy. The commands of the LORD are just and give understanding to the mind.

Reverence for the LORD is good; it will continue forever. The judgments of the LORD are just; they are always fair.

They are more desirable than the finest gold; they are sweeter than the purest honey.

They give knowledge to me, your servant; I am rewarded for obeying them.

None of us can see our own errors; deliver me, LORD, from hidden faults!

Keep me safe, also, from willful sins; don’t let them rule over me. Then I shall be perfect and free from the evil of sin.

May my words and my thoughts be acceptable to you, O LORD, my refuge and my redeemer!

80's Party

These pictures are worth a thousand words.  And every other word is AWESOME...RAD...and TOTALLY TUBULAR:

(It was a costume party, and I dressed as Karate Kid, with the authentic headband exactly like Daniel Larusso wore in the movie!  There were others at the party obviously, but since I didn't ask them permission to post pictures of them in their totally awesome/rad/funny/silly costumes for the whole world to see, I shall not publish their pics.  I promise I didn't just throw an 80's party by myself and spend the evening alone doing karate moves while listening to 80s music and playing Nintendo!)

The Mountain and the Vine: The Adventures of Lion and Mystery (Part 5)...though Part 6 will be coming much sooner...as we close in on the end, the posts will have a faster/shorter pace

Lion and Mystery walked solemnly up the mountain trail - though they held hands with fingers entangled.  They were silently grieving over their departure from the garden of Eros and Ambrosia.  After rounding several bends and crossing over several zig-zags of the trail, they began a steep ascent.  About a half mile up, they could see the trail leveling off onto the summit of the mountain.  On the edge of the summit were exotic trees, flowers, and vegetation practically bursting over the edge of the mountain's precipice like water overflowing from a fountain.  It was the garden of King Agape.

"I can't believe we're already so near to the top," said Lion.

"Eros and Ambrosia don't live very far from King Agape.  Perhaps if we like King Agape's garden, we'll be permitted to live there, and we can visit Eros and Ambrosia once in awhile.  Perhaps leaving their garden won't be so bad after all."

"We could make this whole mountain our home.  Go wherever we please.  Just you and me, Mysty."

Mystery smiled and squeezed Lion's hand tighter.

"If only that Arthur fellow wasn't so pushy," said Mysty.  "He practically impaled me with his sword!  And the way he just appears out of nowhere from a mist!  It doesn't make me feel safe."

"I suppose all kings are at least a little bit pushy," said Lion.  Mystery looked up at the top of mountain.

"I wonder what King Agape will be like."

They walked up the trail and began their ascent up the steep slope.  After only a few minutes, sweat was dripping down Lion's face, and Mysty's face and arms were glistening with perspiration.  After an hour of very slow climbing, they were finally within a dozen yards of the top.  Something off to the right among the rocks caught Lion's attention.

"What on earth?"

"What, Lion?  What do you see?"

"I don't know...it's... I think it's a cave of some sort.  I'm going to investigate."

"Wait for me, Lion!"

Lion climbed horizontally towards the cave opening.  Mystery scrambled to keep up, slipping a few times a long the way.

"My goodness, it is a cave!  And look!  The passage has light in it!  It goes into the mountain, and I see a stairwell leading up!  I bet this is a shortcut to the top!  Let's go Mysty.  This will be much easier than climbing.  We still have a few more yards left, but I'm so achy and sore that I think it might take me another hour just to go that far!  Let's take the shortcut!"

Mysty peered into the cave slowly.  Her eyes were wide and unsure.

"I-I don't know, Lion.  I don't have a good feeling about this.  Let's just climb the rest of the way.  Something doesn't feel right."

"No, no!  It will be fine!" said Lion with a smile.  Before Mystery could say anything, he leaped into the cave towards the stairs.  The moment his feet stepped in, a rumble shook the mountain.  The next moment, a crack split under Lion's feet.  With a sudden ear-splitting crunch, the crack expanded to the size of a large hole.  Before he knew what had happened, Lion disappeared into the crack and vanished from Mystery's sight.  She cried out in terror.

"Lion! Lion!"

She rushed towards the edge of the crack and stopped herself.  She could see nothing.  She called out his name, but no answer came.  Another rumble shook the mountain and knocked her off balance.  She tipped over and fell into the hole, screaming as she tumbled down like Alice into the rabbit hole. 

The Gardens Above Safed Koh (Part 1), a new short story series by Kevin Ott

(The following account was found in the personal journal of the famous photographer Henry Ott after he was believed to have died in an avalanche in the mountains of Pakistan.  His body was never found.)

The mountain was colder than usual on the day I saw her.  I had arrived in the central mountainous region of Pakistan after three nightmarish days of travel through airports, cities, villages, back-roads, and finally the tundra that lay at the feet of the Safed Koh range – which means “white mountains.”  After a week of getting lost, trudging along through the foothills below the steep slopes, and trying to fix my broken GPS, I gave up and headed back to base camp to pack up and go home.  My dream of photographing the snow leopard in the wild seemed laughable.  I hated giving up, but I didn’t have much of a choice.  I had made some poor decisions, things that novices would avoid.  I had even gotten my feet soaked after stepping foolishly on thin ice and falling up to my shin in freezing water.  The danger of frostbite threatened soon after.  If I failed to build a fire and dry my feet out immediately, my feet – down to the deepest tissue next to the bone – would freeze solid.  This would mean certain amputation or death.  I was too far out in the colder regions to risk treating frostbite.  Thawing my feet would be possible if I built a fire and heated some water to a tepid temperature for soaking; but if cold air touched my feet again after being thawed, the damage would be irreversible, and I would lose the use of them permanently.  I would then be too crippled to walk and would die unless someone found me.  I had broken my radio and satellite phone when I fell through the ice.  I was cut off from help.  Getting back to camp and building a fire was my only hope.  If I could just prevent the frostbite, I would be fine.

Then I saw it.  Its hungry white face floated in the distance behind the trees like a ghost, as it ran along the slope of a hill.  With a backdrop of snow and rocks behind it, the black speckles on its fur made it nearly invisible.  It saw me.  It smelled my scent on the wind.  It stood motionless, watching me with curiosity.  I cursed my icy feet, and with painful winces, hobbled quietly closer to the cat.  I could barely breathe.  The snow leopard stood within ten feet of me, but it refused to budge.  I wasn’t hiding behind anything, and I felt naked before its cattish gaze.  It felt as if we had arranged our meeting ahead of time and were about to begin an earnest conversation.  I lifted my camera and captured some of the most stunning photographs I had ever seen in my life.  It watched me passively, licking its chops, blinking with its wintry black and white feline eyes, and breathing with a steady, relaxed rhythm.  And it was so beautiful.  More beautiful than my memory can recall.  I mostly recall the feeling of breathlessness as I watched it watch me.  I went through half of my camera’s digital film.  Still it watched me.  After taking as many pictures as I could, I lowered my camera with a deep sense of satisfaction and locked eyes with the leopard.  Our staring match must have lasted several lifetimes – at least it felt that way.  Finally, it sighed.  A puff of white billowed from its nostrils.  It turned and left as quietly as it had come.

I limped back to the base camp with a pale face and trembling fingers, like Moses after returning from Mount Sinai in the presence of the divine.  The worst day of my life had quickly become one of the best.  I had a fire going, and I warmed my feet just in time.  The threat of frostbite dissipated, and I was in a good mood.  I opened a bottle of wine to celebrate and drank it in my tent as the sun went down.  I dug a book out of my bag and began reading to relax.  I found some jerky in my pack.  Wind beat against the walls, and the canvas whipped me in the face several times.  It was a strange night – more surreal than I had expected.  I had just photographed a snow leopard in the wild, escaped certain death, and now lay in a sleeping bag in the middle of Pakistan, eating beef jerky, drinking red wine from Napa Valley California, and reading The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien with a flashlight.  I read about elves walking up steep hills covered with forests.  They were walking to the secret groves and woody palaces of Rivendell, singing songs along the way.  It was the perfect chapter to read that night.  Everything felt like magic.  I could smell the pine trees just outside my tent.  The wind was howling, as if singing its own primal song.  Wolves were howling further away.  I could smell the snow, if that makes any sense.  It’s the smell that I always imagined diamonds to have – a sort of crystalline smell that makes me feel like I am drinking ice-cold water and smelling rain falling on pungent soil at the same time.  Fortunately, I remembered to turn my flashlight off before falling asleep.  I was drowsier than usual after a long day in the mountains (which may have been the red wine’s work).  No dreams came.

 The next morning, I packed my gear and began the long journey home.  It took two hours to descend into the warmer plains that spread before Safed Koh.  Hills, forests, and cliffs interrupted the flat grassland at regular intervals.  At one such interval, I came across a beautiful waterfall plummeting into a wide, placid lake.  The warmer elevations meant I could comfortably strip off my clothing and bathe without fearing hypothermia – as long as I didn’t stay in too long.  The water was warmer than I had expected.  And deeper.  I decided to have a little fun.  I climbed to the top of the waterfall and steeled my nerves, preparing to dive into the lake.  That’s when it happened.  A mist formed just beyond the edge of the rock where the water poured over the lip.  It was a thick fog – like the tule fog back home in the San Joaquin Valley of California where I grew up.  After staring at it for a few moments, I dismissed it as some explainable anomaly of air currents and moisture, and I prepared to leap into the air.  With a cry of both fear and excitement, I ran towards the edge, leaped into the air, and felt the coolness of the mist as I plunged towards the lake.  I closed my eyes, waiting for the splash of impact.  It never came.  The stomach-turning drop of gravity ebbed away; the feeling of floating weightless replaced it.  Had I blacked out during the impact?  Was I already in the water?  I looked around frantically, but found no trace of water anywhere.  I certainly wasn’t wet.  Wisps of mist entangled my limbs.  I was floating in mid-air.  A patch of the fog cleared; I gasped and almost stopped breathing.  I was rising higher, not falling.  The waterfall was now hundreds of feet below me.  The Safed Koh mountain range grew closer with every moment – far closer than I had gotten in my hikes.  Soon its peaks greeted me, and I was high enough that it became harder to breathe.  It would have taken days to reach this point by climbing.  A few minutes later, I rose to the highest summit of the largest mountain.  Still I rose.  The Safed Koh now loomed below me.  My heart was beating out of my chest with adrenaline.  The freezing air had turned my body pale blue.  Seconds later, I passed out from oxygen deprivation.  Wild thoughts filled my mind in those final seconds.  Had I died?  Was I rising to Heaven?  The last thing I saw before the world went black was my camera.  In my absent-mindedness, I had forgotten to remove it from my neck after stripping my clothes off to jump into the water. 

When I woke, I was no longer floating.  I felt something prickly rub against my arms.  My body was warmer.  I was wearing clothes.  An overwhelming fragrance rushed into my nostrils.  I opened my eyes.  My arms had been scratching against grass.  My clothing, a dark green color, was strange looking – like plain linen pajamas, but with an organic solidity to them, as if knit from the veiny thinness of leaves.  As I blinked and looked around, my mouth dropped open in wonder.  Hundreds of thousands of flowers of every shape, texture, and color surrounded me as far as my eyes could see.  The sky shined with a cloudless blue.  The air was warm and sunny – probably in the mid-seventies.  A light breeze swept across my face; thick plumes of flowery fragrances rushed into my nose and made me sneeze.

 “I’ve never seen so many flowers,” I said. 

“It took a year to coax that perfect smell from this land,” said a female voice from behind me.  My heart leaped in my chest, and I spun around.  The most peculiar, and yet the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, stood before me.

Careers

Lately I've been musing about a career change.  I know people often go through several career fields over the course of their lifetime.  It is now rare for someone to stay in one company or one field their entire life.  I'm curious what careers other people have tried out and liked or disliked.  It's always interesting to hear the variety of jobs that people have worked.

At times I've been interested in being a paramedic/EMT or in law enforcement, but the hours required for those jobs are often extra long, unpredictable, and "on call," which would destroy my ability to stay committed to my ministry at church.

I've also been interested in counseling people in some form or another.

Of course, I'm not going to be any of those things, because whilst writing this post, I've already decided my next career.

I'm going to be a ninja.