JosephBrewster’s blog

I cannot see beyond this gossamer veil--life is encompassed in a shroud seperating me from the vast beyond--I see only the now. The tiny, collected now. I stand by a coffin of one I love and wonder what they see. We all carry our opinions, theories, faiths--I as well--but we all share in the same ignorance of the true nature of afterlife. It is a mystery unrevealed in image or composition. I imagine that, given the small percentage of my brain which I actually do use, I could hardly comprehend the beyond at this level of my existence, but something about the vast oblivion of emotional outer space, if you will, the portion of living where my body cannot proceed, is quite unnerving. All the words in the world will not describe the wonder or fling wide the doors of understanding, nor can the feeble eulogies and pricy floral arrangements decorate the grimness of death. I have often heard the song which bravely proclaims "there will be grace to cross the river, grace to live forever--there'll be new grace when it's my time to go" and somehow I find comfort in those words. Not because the author knew anything I cannot see, but there are some thoughts, as whirlpools of the mind, which take us about in a great commotion, but really bring us to no new destination. I have been near much death of late, and each time I view the body I am utterly baffled at what people find "natural" or "beautiful" about the thing lying in the casket. I'm sure many would find this sentement very cynical, but I see no person there. I see no life. I see a skin, shed, and void of anything I might have once looked upon as inviting or friendly. As I feel my own frame sliding from youth I am ever reminded of that near beyond...that home after home. More I look to it. More I set my eyes away from whatever achievements society praises and ask myself "what will be in eternity?"
My conclusion? There is a knot in my stomach that may never leave until I leap into the unknown and am finally falling. I have never felt truly at home here on earth, but neither have I known anything more. Would I choose to be forever young? I could not. I was born to die, and I cannot find my full meaning in the thought that this partial knowledge...this dimmed glass I see through now is the hight of my creative fulfillment. No. I want to see all the colors in the spectrum. I want to watch music course through the air. I want to visualize ever dimension clearly. I want to lift from the clutches of gravity. One day I will. One day I will be ready to come home. Today I am not. Today I am called to touch lives here, beneath the veil. I console myself with nothing. There is nothing that consoles me. Why should I? This life will ever be smattered with pain and loss, hightening my feeling that this life is only the beginning. What can we know? I can know this: that with each breath I draw I come closer to transitioning to a new existence, and when it comes I will no longer have an influence here. I cannot plan in depth for what I will do in eternity, therefore I will trust God and plan for what I see inside the cloak here. My time is too precious to waste on anticipation. As a child awaiting Christmas, I must live in the now and let tomorrow come when it does. Will you be ready to come home?

UnderOath - Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape

I'm beginning to wonder if this blog is worth keeping. I don't seem to know many people on here...I don't suppose it matters. If I write this and it is lost in oblivion where no one ever reads it perhaps it is therapy to simply word one's thoughts. There is too much for me to say here to truly open my life up at the moment. We are moving out to who-knows-where, trying to start a business, and trying to work with the youth in our church (I.E. adjust to not being on staff anymore and still helping). The stress of life has intensified tenfold in the past month, and that pit in my stomache nudging me to find that greater something in life has only grown larger. Difficulties tend to shake that sense of security we hold dear and force us out over heights we are uncomfortable with; I suppose that it is as it should be. My heart burns within me for something more--not something more as in a better job or a different location, but seeing power turned on in the world around me and watching miracles happen in the lives of those I pass everyday on the street. I want to stand in the wake of disaster and marvel at the rainbow, knowing that this has been monumental. Perhaps I ask too much of this decaying planet--I don't expect to ever feel truly fulfilled in an unfulfilling world, but I do want more. More than casual smiles and casual styles. An earthquake of color in the grey haze. an explosion of expression among the monotony. Hmmmm. How shall I do this?

Tonight a man calling himself Joe rang my doorbell. He was a tall slim man wielding a 6 foot cedar walking stick decorated with crosses, thunderbirds, dream catchers, and feathers. Around his neck dangled similar symbols--everything from the Star of David to Celtic patterned amulets. He asked me for some help. I made him a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk, and we proceeded to have a long conversation about spirituality, extraterrestrial life, and secret societies. He told me he was a messenger from Heaven headed for a Mayan temple on the Yukatan peninsula, and the odd thing was, I agreed with him on many of the issues we spoke about. I consider myself a very open minded person, not given to quickly writing off something, even when it sounds rediculous, and as I sat there, a Baptist youth pastor listening to a New Age homeless man discussing an alien invassion, I did not think he was crazy. He did not appear to be under the influence of any substances, and he genuinely believed everything he was telling me. He had spent countless hours considering the issues he was sharing with me--researching everything he could on the subjects and retaining a great deal of it in his memory--and, although on some counts I feel he was perhaps too open minded, there was much he said with which Ifound myself agreeing. The irony of it all was the vast majority of church people...well, anyone for that matter...would write him off as a lunatic who had one too many bad trips, and here I was finding more in common on some issues with him than with anyone in my church. I sensed a spirit I could not identify with, and I believe the man was fundamentally mistaken in his beliefs, but the sight of him reminded me to carefully consider who Ipass judgment on. As I read the Scriptures I find that the vast majority of major players in the Bible were unassuming, sometimes unattractive, and on a few occassions downright revolting people. The greatest prophet of the New Testiment was a homeless man with scraggly hair and a rough mannerism, and some of the greatest prophets of the Old Testiment were imprisoned for their "rediculous" claims and unbelievable messages.
I wonder why we get so caught up in our daily lives as if there is some great meaning to accumulating stuff and achieving status. I wonder how many of us are as bent on achieving our purpose in life as this man was on achieving his. I believe his commitment is poorly placed, but yet is mine as driving? Do I fight for the things I believe as I should? Do I sacrifice to reach my goals as I should? Am I too civilized? Perhaps we are duped into being so civil that we would not recognize a true prophet. Would we even recognize Jesus if He were to walk into a modern church? I doubt His style would be very apealing. His clothes probably wouldn't be cool, and He might not have a dynamic personality. Why is it that the Jewish nation, given prophecies centuries in advance, missed the arrival of the Messiah for the most part? Because they had their own idea of what a Messiah should look like, and they were not expecting a normal man. God is not in the habit of picking supermodels to deliver His messages, contrary to Hollywood's depiction of Biblical events. A comforting thought. One day I may find myself homeless. I hope, if that time comes, someone will give me the benefit of the doubt and take me in. May I always treat others as I would wish to be treated. Who knows when you are entertaining an angel?

My lovely wife often models for me...did I mention I am a photographer? Anyway, she allowed me to photograph her yesterday, so I thought I would post some to share her beauty with the rest of the world. She really is quite amazing!

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It is a rainy day. The bloated grey clouds shower the world below with a melancholy barrage of droplets, droning on the window pane seeking admitance. Although the water has no entrance to the inside, its effect weighs heavy on the mind and spirit. Rainy days bring rainy thoughts and cloudy emotions. Rain is beautiful. Many times I have played recorded rain and thunderstorms at night to go to sleep by--a deluge, in all its inconvenience, is a bringer of life and a prelude to sunshine. In my mind, the changing weather gives adventure to the mundane, character to the landscape, reviving our inner child longing to splash in the puddles and stand out in the downpour. A dance in the rain would surely cure the deepest wounds and wash away the darkest despair. So why do we hide indoors? Are we too civilized to soak? Are we too proper to play? We grumble at the clouds because they obstruct our tasks; tasks which would, otherwise, be our target of grumbling. Rainy days are like a painting hung in the sky--a watercolor masterpiece decorating the landscape with its streams and floods. Today I embrace the rain, thankful to know that the Creator who gives the sun also brings the rain in its season and changes the canvas of our world in time. It is also a comfort to me to realize that, even in the face of vast technological advances, the weather can still remain mysterious and upredictable. It is the randomness (or at least, perceived randomness. Nothing is absolutely random) in nature and the untameable forces governing our atmosphere that prove the superiority of God to humanity. While this may seem disconcerting to some, it is almost, to me, the comfort a child feels living at home with the knowledge that they are not the ultimate authority--there is always someone bigger and wiser who is available to help. In the same sense, the raw natural power, though destructive at times, reminds us that we do not hold the reigns on our universe, nor have we the strength to dam its capabilities. We are but children in a vast backyard where we are responsible, but not supreme. In the face of life and the pursuit of meaning, I find this a warm thought. I would doubt the existence of God had I never glimpsed the sun breaking through the clouds or felt the power of the ocean pulling lazily onto the shore, but how, in the face of all this, can I feel alone? Indeed I am not. And so I cherish the rain.

Come and Listen

For those of you who do not know me well, I feel compelled to tell a little about my methods of thinking, and the wierdness you are certain to encounter if you visit this blog regularly.
I am a firm believer in expressing myself honestly, though often ambiguously, and my personality lends itself to expression in poetry, song, and metaphorical narratives which always tell a story originating from my experiences in life. I don't mess around blogging about everything I do in a day, though I will try to give you a view into my existence as often as I can, and still make it interesting. I am a teacher, though it is not my occupation anymore, so I may get a little long winded...please forgive me. It is one way I feel I am able to give out what is within me...something that is very important to me.

I live on an Island, literally, and I spend as much time as possible around the ocean. I am eternally facinated by the sea, and all nature, really, so I get out of the house as much as I can. I am a photographer in the process of starting my own business after having resigned from my 3 year possition as a youth pastor at my church here on the Island where I still volunteer my time. That decision is a blog for another time, but suffice to say that fulfilling the purpose given to me by my Creator is of utmost importance to me, and saturates my choices in life and the way I am. I am in love with a woman named Bethany, who has had my heart and my ring for over 4 years now. She is extraordinary, and is a stay at home mom for our new daughter and 3 year old son. Here is what they look like at the moment

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Once upon a time...it seems like I am reaching into eternity to grasp a fleeting memory from my childhood which could somehow illustrate the history proceeding what we call "today". How have I come to this place, 1:18am on a Friday morning, and what drives me to log myself in words deep within this net of humanity/technology? There is much I could say here, but the final finds me just another soul full of longing--asking the same questions into the night that plague each of us when we choose to allow them. I have made it my life to confront and discuss the issues most people happily avoid, and perhaps I must pay for that by never being able to fully set them aside. My eyes fail me as my body weakens with fatigue, yet my mind refuses sleep, insisting instead on meditation and questions. It is now when I find myself wondering if we were meant to wake after dark or if, by some unholy design, the forces that shake our very being have sway over our minds after the sun takes leave of the day. Scripture confirms my suspicions; light is my habitat. And yet despair has a warmth not unlike hope; dark, an alure not unlike light, and while I write this in exhaustion, longing for sleep, something within me desires the unknown--the pain and confusion. Is there a warrior in me bent on fighting an enemy unseen? Is there an adventurer within me looking to know even the dark secrets of nights caverns? Yes. I do live and entertain the same questions, thoughts, and doubts burdening every other being on earth...so what makes me unique? What makes this blog stand out from the rest? We shall see, but I will begin it by saying that I have talked much to God tonight, and am even now going to consult His Words. The balm that soothes my storm by some enigmatic magic, some God spell, breaking through unseen walls and bringing rest. I cannot go on tonight. My strength has given in. Good night.

Aphex Twin [Nobukazu Takemura] - Let My Fish Loose

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