Aug 11, 2013



What to do with a drunken sailor, a sailor drunk who has shed blood?
What to do with this drunken sailor, a coward yet a murdering wretch?

I'll drown this sailor in water as shallow as his soul.

Mercy will come only from the Voice when he meets him in the land beyond.
Trust completely dirty sailor or the Grace will pass you bye...
http://theillalogicalspoon.bandcamp.com/track/motherbear

Apr 10, 2012

The Glory of God filled the temple and it sounded like rushing waters. I was there and I thought I was going to drown but it was not of boredom.

Of Joy.

Jun 17, 2011

And so we set out across the plain, Sarai, my nephew Lot (inspired by the fire with which I spoke and acted) and myself leading the way. But it wasn't me leading, it was the Voice. My bones were burning with passion, I could have killed and eaten an elephant, I could see the future and understood my past. Though I had twinges of feeling for my father, the overwhelming intensity of the Voice in my ears kept me moving. So long as I kept moving, the Voice continued to fill me with Power that only a bear could fathom.

One day we reached the Great Tree in the middle of the plain. I had only seen glimpses of it on clear days from my seat at the top of the Great Hill. I had no idea that the Tree was even greater than the Hill. I climbed the Tree to the top and looked over the plain, seeing all the land. There were plains, more hills, greater rocky hills, a great river, and an even greater water in the distance. And as I looked the Voice told me that all this would one day be mine and the inheritance of my cubs. And I wept and tore great slashes into the bark of the Tree. I looked again and I saw that there were many jackals in the land as well, conspiring and conniving in their sneaky and evil ways. On the wind I could hear their hungry yelps and howls. The Voice bore me up, but still I wondered how I would protect my family.

I was sad to leave the Tree, the Voice urged me on. That Tree had a greater story than I would ever have. It gave me a glimpse of the land I would inherit, but its wood would one day free an even greater land from its pain and futility.

Genesis 12:1-9

I loved living on the great hill. We made a great life for ourselves there. Hunting was plentiful, our swarms of bees were multiplying, our cave was warm. We were richer than we ever were.

My dad was well and happy for our family's success in the new land, however, every now and then he'd look over the edge of the great hill and see the great land the Voice had asked him to explore and ROAR! He'd look back at us with fire in his eyes and look as though he was about to ask us to follow him into the unknown, but in looking back he'd see the forest where he lost a son and the fire would be doused and he'd just wander off down the hill to look for a kill.

When my dad did this, I'd always get excited but I was also glad he didn't make us leave. I loved the hill. I felt like a king of beasts when I stood on its edge that overlooked the plain. We had the all best food we could find and bears from all the great clans came to visit us on the hill to ask my father counsel. We were revered for our journey and that we were brave enough to conquer the hill for ourselves.

Then one spring, we arose from our cave at the base of the hill preparing for yet another epic feast of spring berries and whatever we could kill, when our father didn't join us. We didn't notice at first as the desperation of the first feast always made us dim witted, but as the berries fortified us, we noticed his absence. My dad's celebration of the first feast was always more jubilant than all other bears, he would knock over trees, dance on his hind legs, and give each of his boys what he called a "spring bite" which would always draw blood. It must have been the lack of my spring bite that drew me back to the cave.

Dad was awake, but really listless. His eyes still had the ice of winter in them. He couldn't get up. I called my brothers and we dragged him into the sun. We brought him berries and a few dead rabbits and he thanked us with what only can be described as a feeble "winter nibble". The fur on my leg which would normally be matted in blood from his bit was drenched instead in drool.

I knew I had to stay and take care of him. And I did. I settled down. I hunted for my dad. I married Sarai, daughter of my Father's other wife because she lived on the hill and I wouldn't have to roam to find another. I did all this because my father was my hero and I couldn't see him waste away. And he continued to live but not improve.

The next spring was more of the same. I was glad my father survived the winter, I hunted for him, and took on more of the responsibilities of chieftain of my people, keeping me even closer to the hill and making it more and more a part of me. The other chieftains of the great clans came to our hill to speak to me now and I felt their honour. I loved the great hill.

Later that fall, I looked over the edge of the great hill to roar and let the bears know it was time to prepare for the sleep. I looked over the plain with pride. Soon though my feelings changed. I became nervous and my soul felt weak. I sucked in the wind to try to roar but instead I heard a stronger roar. It was the Voice.

The Voice told me to leave my father's household, to the leave the hill and venture into the great plain. The Voice told me He would bless me and make me great. And He told me I needed to leave now, though it was the worst possible time. We should be preparing for the sleep.

My father would die if I left. The great clans would despise me. I knew nothing of the plain. But the Voice had spoken to me. And it was as though I had awoken from the deep sleep.

I would not make the preparation roar. I turned back to the cave to get my wife and to gather my swarms. We would continue my father's quest.

The fire lit my soul and eyes.

May 27, 2011

Genesis 11:27-32

I was just a cub when my father woke me before the sun. His eyes were lit with the fire of the sun, but the sky was dark. He had heard the Voice. He gathered us at the mouth of our cave to tell us what the Voice had said. It would alter our lives forever.

My father had not spoken since our brother had died. Something had broken within him. He stopped hunting. He stopped baying. He refused honey. He kept mostly to the cave and ate only roots and berries. A bad sign for bears. Prior to the loss of our brother, my father had been my hero. He was the largest of all the bears in the great forest. He always had the blood of his enemies on his breath. His swarms of bees and the honey they produced for us were legendary in size and grandeur. But all that was lost when our brother died. I felt as though the hero I knew was gone.

But on this night my father had returned to his former glory. And more. His eyes were so fierce. His baying like thunder. Yet even with this, he claimed he could not express all the Voice had told him.

That night he told us we would begin a journey to another land. He told my brother to spend the rest of the night gathering roots, berries and rodents. He told me to fetch my cousin. He told my mother to gather together the bee hives, our livelihood, for we would need them in our new land. And then he told us all that he himself would make the big kill before the sun to provide for our journey.

The sun rose and our family gathered again to show our work. My brother returned with more roots, berries, and rodents than I thought possible for him to gather. My mother had the bees gathered in cloud that awaited our departure. I had summoned our cousin. My father returned with blood on his teeth.

And we roared!

And we feasted!

And we departed!

My father was full of intensity. Full of vigor and power. I was proud of my father.

We journeyed with great speed to the edge of the great forest, my father leading us, the Voice leading him. I knew in my heart that with my father in this condition we would conquer the world, and all would fear us.

It was when we came to the top of the Great Hill that looked over the plain that things changed. My father had never left the forest. In fact he had never even been as far as the great Hill. That he had climbed the great hill was an accomplishment he had never dreamed of, even as a cub.

And now he had. And he could see the whole world. And he was afraid. And he stopped. There on the great hill. And when he stopped, the Voice stopped Speaking. And the Sun went out of my father's eyes. And we remained there with our bees. And we lived on the great hill.

And many moons later, my father died there.

crema

I have just made my first cup of cappuccino. A resounding success. I dedicate this cup to Al, who gave me the espresso machine.

In honour of the new espresso machine and the first perfect cup of cappuccino, I will now endeavor to write 5 posts about my experience as the Abraham of bears.

Dec 18, 2010

thinking about a haircut and a shave. a close shave. like that day. it still haunts me a little. i should have listened more closely to the Voice. he speaks more clearly these days.

Dec 13, 2010

bears have a hard time expressing themselves. sometimes we throw grapefruits in peoples' faces for attention.

Dec 11, 2010

Kingston Squirrels

A few days ago I saw one of our famous black squirrels eating a dead bird in a tree. They truly are evil.