carbonated joy

Yonder is a good southern word.
As a child of the south, I’ve heard it all my life. I’ve taken it for granted. I failed to recognize the unparalleled expansiveness of yonder.
But, not anymore…
It’s become one of my favorite words.
It’s a directional word…
“Go out yonder”.
It’s also a word without limits…
“Here we go into the wide blue yonder”.
Yonder is a word that makes you wonder.
It opens the gate and invites you to explore.
Yonder always takes you further.
It’s a time released container of “more”.
It takes you outside the limits, outside your field of vision.
Yonder creates both uncertainty and courage, because you are never sure if you’ve arrived, but you are having a great adventure.
You can see why it’s become one of my favorite words.
I want to live in the outlying land of yonder.
It’s wide opener out there.
I know the way, the directions are simple…
Just go out yonder.

No one was really sure where Captain Cornelius Kaleidoscope came from. He just showed up one day when we needed him the most. He drove into the Shadowlands in an old short school bus that he had converted into a fantastical food truck. It was bright orange and painted in purple across the side were the words “Kaleidoscope’s traveling eatery and emporium of wild wonder”. He pulled up and parked it in a vacant lot near the abandoned corn syrup factory one day (it was a Tuesday if memory serves), then he opened up the side concession window and started serving up waffles and falafels, corndogs and chili buns and MORE!!
He also served up wild wonder and fresh whimsy, things that had long ago disappeared from the Shadowlands.
No matter if people ordered funnel cakes or cheese fries, everybody got a heaping helping of wonder.
That looked different for every customer. Because, Captain Kaleidoscope customized the curiosity. One person would get a story about knights and princesses, another would get a song about silly pirates. There were hula hoop exhibitions and belching contests, spontaneous dance parties, and one time the Captain played the accordion with his feet for mean Mr. Muggle. Folks say that it was the first time that Mr. Muggle had smiled in over 37 years.
Captain Kaleidoscope was a wild eyed purveyor of a pure wonder that changed everything. It ignited hope.
Of course, it made no sense…
It was strange and silly. But we learned to not lose the WOW by asking HOW. We realized that some things are just meant to leave you breathless.
Something chunky and happy was happening…it was almost like light was breaking through the cracks in the clouds and the Shadowlands were changing.
Along with serving quite possibly the worlds best fried bologna sandwich, Captain Kaleidoscope showed us that wonder and whimsy show up everyday in the smallest and strangest and biggest and boldest ways.

This is hardly an exhaustive list, but You can find wonder and whimsy in:
• The smell of new crayons and old books
• running barefoot through a mud puddle.
• tacos.
• sunsets.
• the laughter of a toddler.
• a cup of hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows.
• a new pair of socks.
• a song by Stevie Wonder.
• space, the final frontier.
• eating jello with your hands.
• banjo music.
• puppy breath.
• holding the hand of a loved one as they pack a suitcase for a place none of us have ever been.

Wonder really is like a kaleidoscope. It looks different for everyone. The shapes of whimsy are ever changing. Even, in the darkest places, a little light can unleash the most magnificent colors.

Then, one day (it was a Thursday if memory serves), when the shadows had left the Shadowlands, Captain Kaleidoscope quietly packed up the orange food truck and moved on. Without fanfare or farewell, He just headed down the road leaving a trail of powdered sugar. We suspected that he was in search of more hungry people.
People who were hungry for hoagies.
People who were hungry for hope.

We were never the same. We gained a few pounds and we had discovered joy.
It was there all along.
Wonder had won.

There are certain completely inappropriate things that you should do on a daily basis,
It’s completely medicinal, You can help yourself maintain a healthy and happy homeostasis.

For an uncomfortable buzz in your belly, drink something fizzy and let out a loud throaty burp.
Also, if you eat some delicious soup, to get it all, you might have to occasionally awkwardly slurp.

And when you do burp, make it count! Own it! Be proud!
Play “name that food”! Break forth in belch long and loud!

If you hold in your gas, it’s a scientific fact that you will likely explode.
So let it go!! FYI, a crowded elevator is a real fun place to download.

If you get a chance, it’s always fun to spit on the ground or in a ditch.
You should always take time to sit and scratch your feet if they itch.

Maybe your finger is the exact same size as your nostril for a very good reason.
But, just know, you should carefully practice some discretion during flu season.

Laugh so hard that something comes flying right out of your nose,
By the way, Chocolate milk is preferred for this practice, I suppose.

Realize that your body makes some obnoxious noises strictly for entertainment purposes.
Celebrate that!! Let it rip and laugh it off, especially in serious settings and services.

Remember, live with a little spark of madness.
If able, try hard to boycott perpetual sadness.
If you really live, you are going to offend somebody.
Don’t let that keep you from living loud, crazy or kinda gaudy.

There are certain completely inappropriate things that you should do on a daily basis,
Learning to laugh at yourself, while celebrating who you are can be refreshing like an oasis.

Hey dear one!! Look out, look out…
There are identity thieves lurking about.
Culture, comparison, criticism…
can create a personality schism.
They sneak in and suddenly demand your attention.
Then they cause more damage than I care to mention.

They try to suck all of the SOMETHING right out of you.
I wish I were making this up, but sadly and madly it’s true.
They lie and steal and try to leave you a BIG NOTHING.
BUT, Oh no!! that’s not you…you are undeniably SOMETHING!!

Stand firm, hold on tight to your wonderful somethingness.
Don’t let anything or anyone convince you that you are LESS.
Learn to live comfortable in your own skin.
Know that something great resides within.

The truly true song that we all should sing
Is that, truly, no one is never, EVER a nothing.
Every life matters, every someone counts.
There are never, EVER identity discounts.
ALL were made in the image of the maker.
Whether they live truly true or as a faker.
AND, you?
You are never, EVER a not or a nothing,
YOU, dear one, are undeniably SOMETHING!!

My body is a wonderland.

Ohh, it’s true…my body makes people wonder.
People are curious about my freakishly short legs and confused about my weird beard, I get that.
But then things get really interesting when they notice the colorful ink on my arms.
There’s just no denying it, my skin tells a story.
Right now, I have eleven tattoos.
Each one is significant to me.
There is no wasted space.
Each tattoo tells a story.
Each one signifies something that I’m passionate about, something that I have great affection for.
My Wife’s name is on my calf. I have a burning heart on my arm that symbolizes my faith. I have a Panther that is a tribute to my Dad. I have a super sweet Yoda PEZ dispenser on my leg (that one REALLY hurt, but it was worth it!).
Almost daily I have opportunity to connect with strangers and tell a story because of my arm art.

But, I’ve had other people question my heart because of my art.
They have brutally attacked me, armed with well intentioned indignation and a Bible verse from Leviticus.
(Side note: that verse in chapter 19 was speaking to a very specific cultural practice of the time that had nothing to do with the reasons most people get tattoos today, the same chapter outlaws shaving and eating a rare steak.)
The ink police have treated me like I’m a disease.
Some have forbidden their children to talk to me, like I have a contagious skin disease. (I wish I was making that up).
Their words dig deeper than any tattoo needle.

For the record, I don’t think that EVERYone should get tattooed. The beautiful thing about self expression is that it should be expressing your self in a completely unique way. That is supposed to look different on all of us. Your story looks different than mine.
The important thing is that your story gets told.
We should give each other a little space and grace.

But, I think that not only can tattoos tell story, they can teach…
We can even learn from the healing process for a tat. Healing takes a while. During the process, the art is scabby and a little puffy. Sometimes,during the healing process, you can’t really see the picture clearly. In the first few hours, it’s really hard to distinguish because it’s clouded by blood and ink.
Tattoos are art that grows on you. It’s a scar that becomes a story.
Life is like that too, healing can be a process. It takes a little time for our scars to become stories. Life is art that grows on you. Many times life is clouded and it doesn’t make sense, you can’t see the picture clearly. Give it time, healing and art and story come.
The Creator of art and expression is bringing story from scar in you.
Because, here’s the crazy thing…
In Isaiah 49:16, God says: “l have written your name on the palms of my hand”
We have a tattooed God.
The symbolism is that the Creator has engraved what He is passionate about on His hand.
The object of His greatest affection…
You.
You are significant.
You are story.
So sit back.
Breathe.
This might hurt a bit.
Trust the Artist.
You’re going to have an incredible story to tell.

Myrtle Lauper grew up with stars in her eyes.
She loved to imagine while staring into the skies.
She would lay outside on the grass late at night,
Yearning for places that were truly out of sight.
I’m sure that now, folks have goals that are stranger,
But Myrtle daydreamed of becoming a space ranger.
She wanted to chase Jupiter in a shiny, metal ship.
Thoughts of defying gravity made her heart gleefully skip.
Myrtle would sigh and wonder, what would it be like…
To bravely explore the moon on a motorized space bike?
Sadly, Myrtle grew up stuck in a time when women were put in their place.
They cooked dinner and changed diapers and never traveled to outer space.
Myrtle raised her family with absolutely no regret.
But, her starry visions she absolutely refused to forget.
Myrtle never ever gave up star gazing.
She has always been a fan of the amazing.
She would look at the deep blue sky at night,
And lose herself in the illuminating moonlight.
She learned that imagination can defy expectations.
In your mind you can overcome the crippling limitations.
So each night, Myrtle would look up, because up is where the best dreams are found.
Just because you can’t leave doesn’t mean you have to leave your feet on the ground.
Today, Myrtle’s kids are moved out, her husband has long ago passed away.
But, she still looks up, even when she has a sad song kind of lonely day.
Even now, sweet Myrtle still likes to dream big cosmic dreams.
Age hasn’t slowed her, in fact, it’s busted out some seams.
She closes her tired eyes and dreams of a soon coming day,
When she and her dearly departed will dance on the Milky Way.

What can we learn from dear old Myrtle?
Don’t let despair wrap you up like a girdle.
Imagination has no expiration date.
Your greatest adventure might still await.
You are never too old to awaken the wonder,
To be left breathless by the music of thunder.
Your imagination can take you to faraway, unlimited places.
It’s your passport to all the unexplored, wide open spaces.
Never outgrow wonder or whimsy, never forget to dream.
Second half dreams might be the best you’ve ever seen.

Believe it or not, I often get accused of being shallow.
I frequently have people (even teenage people) tell me that I’m just not “deep” enough for them.
Shocking, huh?
I think it’s because I’m frequently…well…silly.
Apparently, silly is shallow.
Deep takes itself quite seriously.
Deep is somber and dignified all the time.
Deep speaks in a deep voice.
Deep requires big, confusing words (preferably in Greek or Hebrew).
Deep confounds and contains at the same time.
Deep discusses, debates, and destroys dissension .
Deep is usually really just asking for you to agree with preconceived notions.
Deep sticks to the script.
Deep makes everything controllable.
Deep fully explains everything.

But, how do you really explain the unexplainable?
How can you really fathom the deep?

Maybe…just maybe, deep isn’t what we think it is…

I don’t think deep is complicated.
I think that sometimes the deepest thing we can do is remind each other of what we already know.
We know the love of God, but there is always more to plunge into.
It is an ocean.
We can spend time in the kiddie pool of certainty and call it deep. We can try to figure everything out and only feel safe and comfortable if we can see the bottom of the pool.
That’s pretty shallow.
I have learned that If you can see the bottom, you probably aren’t where you are supposed to be.
Deep happens when our authentic self, whether it’s serious or silly or whatever, finds itself in a constant pursuit to know the love of God more and more.
Deep is an invitation to lean into what is already known, to plunge into the somber, the sacred AND the silly.
Deep is going to a place where you can’t touch the bottom and hanging out there.
Deep isn’t having or giving all the answers.
It’s knowing that there is a love that is immeasurable.
It doesn’t require perfection or big, impressive words, it just requires honesty and hunger.
Deep calls to deep.
Deep calls to us…
Get lost in the love.
Now, THAT is deep!!

It was a dark and stormy night, I parked my Prius in front of the Hi-View Mini-Mart. I got out of the car and stumbled into the chilly convenience store. It seemed to be abandoned. There, beside the cash register was beef jerky and sunflower seeds. I walked past the candy bars and 87 different varieties of potato chips. The colorful slushee machine sat over in the corner making a foreboding humming noise. There was a Hall and Oates song quietly playing over the intercom.
It was all very surreal.
But, then, suddenly, i saw it, the holy grail of convenience store grub, it sat in a dusty display case…a cellophane wrapped burrito that I swear was glowing. It almost looked otherworldly.
It was a full 12 inches of curious bean and cheese wonder. Despite the strange green glow, it looked delicious and I was hungry.
I opened one end of the package and threw it into the scruffy looking microwave. I set the timer for the suggested two minutes and waited, for my dinner bell to ring.
It was interesting…while cooking, the flour tortilla shell became the consistency of crunchy leather.
Part of the burrito was still frozen and part was mouth blistering hot. I grabbed a plastic spork and dug into the nuked nutritiousness.
I ate it.
I ate it all, even the frozen and crunchy parts.
I ate it all and I thought that was all…
But…I was wrong…
So very wrong…
dreadfully, stomach churningly wrong…
2 hours and 37 minutes later, the burrito returned!
It was ALIVE…in the deepest part of me.
It was back in all its greasy glory.
It seemed to be fighting it’s way out of my tummy like a over caffeinated jungle cat trying to escape out of a cardboard box.
I thought I was going to die.
I thought I was going to explode…literally.
I wished I would explode…literally.
There was a strange fire within me.
Strange guttural noises were coming out of my…well…gut.
Toxic fumes were escaping my body.
I…just…couldn’t…help…myself…
UUURRRRPPPPPPP!!

But then, I…woke up! It had all been a really disturbing dream caused by a bad chimichanga.

Toxic

I’m working on my trust muscles.
It’s pretty much a nonstop workout.
It’s more about leaning than lifting.
Although there IS some squatting, it’s NOT about picking weight up.
It’s actually about letting go of the weight, it requires handing everything over to your spotter.
I’m working on my trust muscles.