The bloody day in October.

Dear Readers.


That bloody day filled the sky with rivers of blood the night was cold and my friend Robert Moore looked up and told his students something was afoot. What he might have, or could have said was that Blood was flowing down out of the sky in the dark night, a dark surprise of trick or treat. A bit of horror ready to take them all and bath them in Blood.

It was the northern lights but, it could just as easily been blood flowing from heaven to earth, from a cross to the pit you live in, from wounds on a head and back and hands and feet and side.

Some days with my mania the way it can be I am filled with dread just getting out of bed. You should have guessed it reading my writing by now, I am manic depressive, they have all sorts of names for it, but I know that I was always this way, but not as bad as I am now. The Now happened in 2005, when in a fit of depression and not a bit of self loathing I decided to not go to the doctor for something I figured I would either get over, or it would kill me. I thought I had fluid on the lungs, pneumonia. I did have fluid on the lungs, just not mucus of the pneumonic-demonic kind, evil laugh, the devils danced about the room and gleefully told me not to go to the doctor.

I had fluid bloody fluid on my lungs blood clots, and I knew when one of them passed through my heart, I literally had it trying to kill me for my sins, I got excited after thinking about a female I knew and I was still married and she was not my wife. Blood clot rushed about and passed through my heart and I had a heart attack or what I thought was one, I barely got into bed and sat up in pain for a while. Knowing full well I should go to the hospital and I could have, but I did not want to go, I would have at the time rather have been dead.

God works is mysterious ways. And you don't know the half of them. You might not even think he is alive and well, you might think he is only a nice guy you once put into a bundle of gold up on some stone altar in a shrine somewhere. You might not even want to think about it till after you get out of college or back from your trip to the Mars colony. Don't matter much what we think about what God is or is not. Well it does, but it don't, sort of like a paradox loop. God did not change. We did. Though you will know that I think these sorts of thoughts and you have learned to take it or leave it. The story still goes on.

I died or should have died back in 2005. I finally went to the doctor on the 29 th of Dec. way late in the afternoon, his last patient, Dr Lynn if you are reading this ( I told you I was going to be writing things remember back then, well this is as good as it gets right now, if anyone asks I give you written permission via these words to tell them about it all. ) I told them it was my lungs, laughs, it was but it was blood clots everywhere else too. Legs. Head. Arms. Lungs. Dead dead dead and dead and bloody at that. Dr. Lynn's post-it note drawing was literally seen by me as a post it note from God I do not remember much if anything of anything Dr. Lynn said after I looked at that piece of paper, I meant to save it and mount it on my wall, but I can still see it and I have been able to redraw it a time or two to show people, but it has no impact on them like it did to me.

I died, in my head I have to remind myself I died that day, but I have to die a bit every day still yet. I have to kill my self every day and let the blood pour down from the heavens like the Northern lights and fill me up with Christ. I can't be in here any more, but sadly for me it seems I can't totally wash me out of me and get all of Christ's blood in. Some one out there will point out the filled to brim with the Holy Spirit metaphor that this all reminds them of, and how they can relate to it. But we are still stuck with us in here, and we still sin daily even though we don't want to, Paul writes about that fact and how he does not want to, but can't stop.

It is a constant battle for me to balance my mania and my depression, I am good at balancing a stick on my head, just ask anyone that knows me, I have shown them it at least once, and I am always balancing something or other. So I do have the God given talent to do it. But I need a lot of help. And when I am deep in my pit of despair full of self loathing and shame and can't get back out of it on my own. I want to have it be filled with Christ's blood poured down from that cross, fill the pit up to drown me, hey I can swim, fill it full to the brim and I can swim out of the pit filled with blood and reach shore knowing that God Saved me.

May the Peace that passes all understanding be yours from Christ Jesus the Lord.
Charles.

Is it that time of year again?

Dear Readers,

As I was about to clear my thoughts and throat to get out my speaking voice, I drowned in congestion and coughed and sputtered a bit, just now. But isn't that what is going on right now! here I was going to reinstate my thoughts from back in 2007, and rehash the old issues, and reform in a new blog post what I had already done once before. Only to cough and sputter and gag a bit. So am I really going to do what I thought I should do? Don't know.

Before head in that direction, I will side step, Like I do oft times, to something else. Yes I know I have not finished that story yet. I haven't forgotten you, or it's train of thought, just have to dig out the other things in the way of it first. As an active thinking almost always full of himself and things streaming in full speed and slow cough like gagging author like person. I have to get out from under a pile of things if I am to get back to a formed up storyline, that I just did not finish the first time of writing. Not so much of an excuse why it has taken so long to get back to the Safe Safe, as telling you how hard it is for me to get back to it. It kinda now explains to me, the processes that I did not understand, but do now a bit better of what goes on in my head.

"Hey is there anyone in here? I look about a dimly lite room full of chairs, old beer mugs, several coffee pots still steaming away, donut boxes mostly with fresh donuts still warm and tempting to be picked up an eaten. But the room is a shambles like the whole crowd left in a hurry, yet it has the feeling that it was left last month. Hello! Anyone in here? There he is, a lone figure walks toward me. He stares at me from the shadows and says.

Charles, welcome to your brain!"


Laughs, yes that was what was wrong. I am always thinking of something, and even If I am not thinking of something, I am only forcing myself to think of nothing, but I am still watching something. I am only thinking of nothing, till I realize I am now dreaming and am looking around for what will happen next. Then I wake for whatever reason and think of the last bits of the dream for several long whiles, even into the next day.

If I am not careful I might start talking out loud to the Audience. Not you all. You are the readers, but you only see me via these words, for the most part, though only a few of you if you still read this stuff, know me in reality, ( that place out there beyond this place that I live, though I am not sure what other to call it, because I am out here, and well am in here too, typing, paradox again ).

We as Thinking creatures which God designed to be more than the sum of our parts, have something going on all the time. Biochemically we never ever stop, even if the only things that are left is the dust of which we are made up off, well to a point it can get so confused with the other little bits and atoms of other things that Only God knew we were ever here to begin with. But for the most part we are always doing something. But we mostly do not Know about 99% of it. You only think, and feel, and project a bit forward or backward. Yet you can't change much of any of it beyond a thin thin thin slice of time that is about , well, shorter than this sentence.

We are acted upon by things out of our control, and react to things that we can't understand and then to top it all off, We wanted to say one thing and got side tracked on another topic, but isn't that what the topic is. My excuse for why the story wasn't finished, and my new post of thoughts for the day, and all that other things and stuffs going on I wanted to tell you about.

See the Problem.

God doesn't tell us a lot of his plans for us. As a Christ follower I know I will get heaven. End Goal. Not end of story. I am reminded time and time again, as the kind of Author I am, I am also getting a taste of the kind of reader you might be listening to the Kind of Author I am. The paradox here is, that I know the answer and I don't know the answer.

I know my final place of residence. Yet I currently live out here, in the other place we call life as we know it. What we know of this life is full of bumps, odd things falling out of the sky and then my dad over my right shoulder talking about baking, and food and cooking, and the lack of space to add more things to our pots and pans, as all of his are in here and all of mine are in a storage shed, which I have to decide if I am not going to ever use them again, if I shouldn't just give them away. Life is like this paragraph, full of things going on all the time, some authors, take a hunk of time out of their day, close the doors, turn off the phone and go and write. Me, I am writing on a computer in my parent's living room ( mostly, I have blog posted from elsewhere ) filled with things that remind me I made them, others have made them, or other family members have made them. The room is full and the sheds are full and our lives are over filled, stuffed almost to the point that we can't see out the sides of the things in the office in our heads, full of fresh things, but old things we have never looked at again, yet if we pick them up. Will be like new out of the box and tasty fresh baked.

I just pointed out to my dad during the baking chat that there are two kinds of artists. One takes canvas in hand, adds paints and steps away, finished. The other takes canvas in hand and never seems to leave it alone. I did point out that the kind of author I am is to write a short story and walk away, but if I am not careful, I or another will ask me for more of that little slice of the life of someone I just wrote about. The Safe Safe story was an offshoot of the Business Card story of a long while ago, that idea of a persona had been rolling about in my own personal story space, and I just shared it with you all. Normally I have a dozen different personal storylines rolling about in that office up there where I can sit down at one place and open the green box of donuts and pink coffee mug and munch on for a while. Then go to sleep, and or get up and go elsewhere.

I try hard to Write here and leave it here, but I haven't stopped thinking of several open ended stories. Like the Richard Mann chapters from a few years ago that I wrote elsewhere and trying to cut and paste here to sour results( the sour, being editing format and how they looked on the blog )That was off a personal storyline that I tried writing out in the long out of head versions.

I guess what I might really be saying is, that unless I take the time and finish that storyline it will stay as a 2 out of 3 part story ( which was a lot shorter in my mind's eye vision than it was in the written word ). Life is full of your stories, they never seem to end, then one day you die.

God knows all your story, and in fact knew your story before you were ever thought of by anyone else. Paradox in a box, we see the box but we can't see outside it. We are stuck in the universe of the world around us. We look into the sky and see trillions of things and we want to know more than we can even begin to ask, but we seek and we ask, and well we get stuck there. God is not stuck there. We are. We also tend toward sticking him in our little world's and thinking that he is just like us. But He is Not Just like us, yet once he was. Paradox again. I use the term paradox a lot, and it might confuse readers or people why I use it. But God is at once easy to explain yet hard for most people to think about. I know a lot of people who discount that Christians are simple minded. But I am not simple minded and I am a Christian. Most people only see a slice of your life, they only see a short slice of the short story of your day. Just Like I write on here about, little slices of life of person or thing Y.

Thinking people, which is every living human. Think complex things, be it simple to you, it is not simple to them. Life is not a slice of things, it is all the slices and all the pains of sore backs, knees, heads, the baking smells, the fire drills, the chills of the dark woods. But God doesn't let it stop there. I had another slice of heaven dream last night. Yet it was mostly a slice of life, only toward the end of it.... well it did not end I was still in it when my phone rang. But looking back on it, I knew it was an answer to prayers I had been having.

So where does this get us from my title to now? um,, well, um...

Life is to complex to worry about it, Hint, Go Read what Jesus Told everyone about worry, Don't do it, no need to.

So I guess I will not write what I was going to write, as I think God answered my thoughts on the topic as I wrote.

My you all have the Peace of the Lord.
Charles.