Clay

Clay: (n) a stiff, sticky fine-grained earth that can be molded

We don’t know anything.

Our science books, a hundred years from now, will be comedy club routines.

Our religions will cause people in the next generation to blush in embarrassment. We are perniciously ignorant because we insist that our
discoveries are so significant that it will be difficult to surpass them.

Yet we are plagued by hypocrisy because simultaneously I-phone 8 immediately needs I-phone 9.

So when you read the ancient text that “God formed man from the dust of the ground,” the poetic nature of the sentiment–and also the significance of understanding how limited our time on “Maple Street” will end up being–leaves out the fact that dust does not cling.

It does not form.

It blows, scatters and crumbles.

So although we may end up being dust somewhere along the line, the story should have informed us that the Creator obviously added his spit.

It was “Daddy spit.” (I know it’s not as famous as Mommy spit.) But it changed dust to clay, which could cling together and form flesh, blood and persons.

So even though I am made of the dust of the Earth, I am emotionally and spiritually held in place by the Saliva of the Most High God.

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Chase

Chase: (v) to pursue in order to catch or catch up with.

What am I chasing?

It’s pretty important. It not only determines the direction I’m going, but also the energy I’m expending–and to a large degree, the location of
my destination.

So what should be our profile on “the chase?”

Do we chase like cats, distracted by a simple strand of string?

Do we chase like rabbits, running hither, thither and yon, until danger frightens us back into our hole?

Do we chase like the cheetah, convinced that nothing can ever outrun us?

Life is never pleasant if, in the process of gaining what we desire, we exhaust our passion. There’s a truth. How we chase may be more important than what we chase.

I have a tendency to chase things ala turtle.

In other words, in my mind I see what I want, but because I have placed “slow down” into my mentality, I have ample opportunity to change my GPS on my way to the prize.

I’ve just never been convinced that getting there first is the best profile. Life is too fickle. People are too unpredictable. And circumstances–too changeable for me to be confident that acquiring the present shiny object is the ideal pursuit.

That’s why those who make I-phone 9 are already ready to bring out I-phone 10. They are quire sure that “the chasers” will pay more money just to prove they’ve got the new thing–and then justify it by amplifying a few subtle perks.

What am I chasing? What will make me don the boots of the quest? Not much.

I’ve never found that an up-close look at a piece of junk is any better than seeing it at a distance, and I’ve never discovered that seeking a worthless emotion feels better if you get there early.

Slow down, you move too fast.

Paul Simon said that. Paul Simon is still around. Paul Simon is still making music. Paul Simon is getting to be an old man, but he’s still pickin’–because he avoided the chase … and made “the morning last.”

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