the account of my life and times

Learning from Others

2010-04-05T21:41:00.004-04:00

I've been doing a ton of research on social media lately (work related), and I've come across some pretty wild stuff... nothing compares, however to first hand experience with a company that's doing something right - case in point: zamzar.com

zamzar.com is a file conversion website that I use all the time. However, for some reason, as I attempted (again and again and again) to convert a .flv file to .mov, zamzar dropped the ball. again and again and again. Finally - feeling very frustrated - i tweeted:

JHenryGordon (3:45 pm): anyone know a good .flv file converter? zamzar has been failing me all day.

what happened 15 minutes later really surprised me.

Zamzar (4:00 pm): @JHenryGordon What's wrong? Email us at support@zamzar.com

I didn't even know zamzar was on Twitter! They must have twitter-alerted themselves, the sneaky guys... Talk about brand management.

In honour of zamzar's on-the-ball-ness, I have compiled a Top 10 list (from this article)

Top 10 Uses for Twitter for Small Business Owners

Ask people for their opinions - and listen to them.
Show a human face
Talk about why you do what you do
Find guest bloggers for your blog
Get our of your marketing shell and be yourself
Tweet about products just arriving or hot food just out of the oven
Livetweet events
Pass on interesting links or posts
Tweet when you do something cool
Be excited about your week

Well, there you have it!

Rules for a Great Presentation

2010-03-26T14:59:00.002-04:00

So, I've been spending a lot of time lately building presentations - typically for my boss. Now, I'm being called upon more and more lately to deliver those presentations to a wider audience... (I know, I know, 3 or 4 people isn't exactly a 'wide' audience - but it's a lot bigger than 1).

Nonetheless, this is great stuff:

Be Amazing: 5 Rules for Great Presentations

View more presentations from jcasimir.

Excuses, by The Morning Benders

2010-03-22T20:01:00.003-04:00

I stumbled across this gem via Kate Miss. She's got scads of brilliant finds on her blog. I strongly recommend a peek over there.

2010-03-17T19:34:00.001-04:00

Peter Gabriel and Paul Simon

Peter Gabriel | MySpace Music Videos

Fridge Magnet Poetry

2010-03-14T19:15:00.003-04:00

she is my vision

like mists over a lake, shining in the sun

like the still moment when music stops playing

or delicate rose petals on bare skin

her love is like the spring wind, driving a storm at sea

The spray blows and rain pounds the rocks.

I want to swim.

More pictures of the babe.

2010-03-01T15:20:00.002-05:00

Piper's first snowman...

2010-03-01T15:12:00.001-05:00

Birthing the Create Network

2010-01-07T13:00:00.004-05:00

I just got an email from someone who'd heard about the small group I'm facilitating (Create). Essentially, they want to run a similar group in their church, and are hoping I can help out with that.

This makes me so excited because firstly, I'm passionate about creativity - and playing a role in others learning to become more creative sparks something incredible inside me. Secondly, I'm a natural visionary, and I've always had a sweet vision of Create turning into an awesome network of small groups with a podcast and sweet website and conferences and art galas and workshops - somebody stop me, I'm starting to sweat!!

So yah. I'm pretty thrilled right now.

Update Time

2010-01-04T19:42:00.004-05:00

Well, everyone, the drought is over. Like honest to goodness big drops of splashing rain. No, no, no, Josh hasn't started blogging regularly again.

I wish.

Nope, it's far far better than that. Josh has a job! A for realsy I'm actually using some of what I studied and am very excited about it kind of job! Haha!! I want to dance around the apartment, and I think I shall.

I am now employed as a Research and Program Analyst. Pretty much it goes like this,

C.O.O.: "Hey Josh, I want to know about starting up a new program for (insert program x here)."

Josh: Sure boss.

Josh opens his MACBOOK PRO THAT WORK GOT ME!!! and begins to research. He then draws up a proposal and delivers a freaking awesome presentation.

So, the story goes that Josh randomly emailed the Chief Operating Officer and asked to meet with him. In the email, Josh regaled said COO with tales of his own comparative awesomeness. Said COO, after a second interview (and a very compelling 10 minute powerpoint presentation by Josh), decides to create a job for him.

That's right, readers. It's custom made, for me.

Dancing, Dancing, Dancing!

- Josh

Create Guelph

2009-12-17T11:55:00.004-05:00

Last night was the second Create Guelph meeting. In all honesty, I've been very nervous about how the group would go. I wondered how the nine different members would gel - especially considering the wide age range (10 yrs - 26 yrs). After the first two meetings, though, I'm getting more and more excited. People are really buying into this!

It's incredibly stimulating; I'd recommend being a part of a group like this to anyone.

Madonna and Child

2009-12-09T18:49:00.000-05:00

That's my family. I love 'em.

- Josh

Genesis: In the beginning

2009-12-09T16:05:00.000-05:00

So, recently, I've taken the volunteer position of Director of the Creative Department at Elora Road Christian Fellowship. Which is great. As are sentence fragments. However, the Creative Department did not exist until just a few weeks ago. I've been crazy busy starting to build a creative framework here at ERCF. It's very exhausting but incredibly exciting. I love it. I really really love it (that's for you, Larry). These are some of my thoughts:

In the beginning...

In the beginning... what a great way to start a story - our Story. In the beginning...

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. In the beginning, God unfolded an epic storyline of betrayal and restitution, sorrow and love, sacrifice and forgiveness. In the beginning, God initiated a compelling dance with humanity, an intimate and beautiful movement, a sweeping thrill of restoration. In the beginning, God made for Himself a Bride, perfect and without blemish, and held nothing back in His relentless pursuit of her. In the beginning.

That 'beginning' so long ago is central to our expression of faith. In it, we recognize our role in the unfolding Story; like our Father, we hold nothing back, using every resource at our disposal in order to fulfill our Commission. Genesis is the name of the Creative Department of ERCF. It is about creativity and innovation. It's about regular people creating the extra-ordinary. It is devoted to the telling of the Story.

Want to join it?

Creative Experiment #1: I Love Lamp

2009-11-10T16:18:00.001-05:00

I consider myself a creative person, but in my creative circles I'm mostly known as the guy with lots of ideas or the guys who likes to write.. Historically, I typically left other areas of artistic expression to others (like Freek, Shawn, Liz, Jesse, Sara, etc...).

Well, I've decided to start branching out, just to try stuff. So, here's my first ever painting... it's called I Love Lamp.

I immediately apologize to other better painters (Freek). I didn't mean to step on your toes just now, but I'm trying to get the red paint out from under my fingernails and I didn't see where I was walking...

- Josh

This one's for you, Shawn!

2009-11-07T09:10:00.000-05:00

While trolling the internet one morning, Josh came across a new band called Pomplamoose. Intrigued by their DIY/'embrace the amateur' approach to music, he investigated further, and was hooked.

This one's for you, Shawn:

The streetlamp, the coliseum, and me

2009-11-07T00:04:00.000-05:00

My List of New Things

2009-11-01T16:03:00.001-05:00

1. New Pad - Sarah and I moved into a 3 bdrm basement apartment. We helped the landlord install laminate flooring, and are looking forward to painting and being totally unpacked!!

2.New Church - well, this isn't totally true. We've been attending ERCF for a while, but especially now that we've moved closer, it is quickly becoming a place where we feel very welcomed and are excited to take the things we've learned at Oakpark and apply them!

3. New Job - I've been working at Starbucks for the last two months, and hugely enjoyed it. I absolutely thrived on interacting with so many different faces in a day - and , incidentally, discovered that I'm really good at selling overpriced pastries to people! On the whole, I did very well, and was up for a promotion. However, it's impossible to provide for your family on a Starbucks income. I've been rehired by a former employer - Duimering Concrete Forming, based in Guelph. I used to build foundations with DCF back in the day. I didn't really like it very much then, and I don't really love it now either. Or even like it. However, the pay boost has allowed us to move into our New Pad (see #1) which, for the meantime is worth it! I'm still rabidly searching for a replacement job.

4. New Hobby - At ERCF, I' ve been 'commissioned' to start a creative planning team. The pastor (my dad) has asked me to brainstorm ideas and implement an organizational structure that is sustainable. It's a fascinating challenge, and I love spending time setting up this framework!

5. TO BE CONTINUED...

Reach

2009-10-29T15:59:00.000-04:00

This is a project I did for an artists' discussion group that I facilitate. The weekly theme was 'Reach'. This little stop motion pic is what I came up with...

Yeah, the photo work could be better, but this was a quick job - and the point of the exercise was to be creative, not to be perfect!

I kind of like it...

- Josh

Exceptional Blogging

2009-10-29T10:25:00.000-04:00

Well, the, um 6 weeks since my last post have been unbelievably busy. The only reason I'm able to post now is because I'm confined to my house. I'm unable to work or anything because I'm slogging through an attack of flu-like symptoms including fever, nausea, congestion. Can anyone say H1N1? The only reason I haven't gotten to the doctor is because apparently everyone else here in Guelph is suffering through exactly the same thing as me. How 'bout than, eh? I'm participating in a pandemic!! It's always cool to be part of something bigger than yourself, right?

Anyways, on to today's business: Another installment of Exceptional Blogging! It's short and sweet but for some reason, I really enjoy it. Coming straight from "Can You Hear the Sound of Laughter..." courtesy of ~M.

"i woke my parents up in the middle of the night to let them know that my lsat results had arrived, three days early.

and the news is so very, very good. like, hyperbolicly good.

i suspect they've forgiven me for the rude awakening."

Thanks, ~M!

Till next time!

- Josh

TAMLAT Soundtrack Contest

2009-09-08T15:36:00.000-04:00

you like that, TAMLAT? The Account of My Life and Times?

Anyway, I recorded a quick video of myself journaling at (insert coffee shop name here). I can't think of a song that would go well with it.

Any suggestions?

- Josh

Exceptional Blogging

2009-08-07T10:30:00.000-04:00

It seems that lately I'm all about starting up blog series. I'm doing another one. It's all about Exceptional Blogging. I often come across a blog post that I really resonate with/wish I wrote/just plain dig. Here is the first installment of EB, straight from Shawn:

An open letter to scrubs...
Dear Young Person sitting in the passenger seat of a moderately customized Honda Civic,

What's the matter with you? I'm just walking down the street after 14 hours at work on a Saturday allowing the anthemic melodrama of Angels and Airwaves to give me the little bit of energy I need to make it home. Why do you feel the need to stick your head out your window and yellat me? What makes you think that I care about your misguided musings upon my sexual preference? Where are you getting your information from anyways? It's not like I got all tarted up for the walk home. Plus, I'm wearing headphones, I can't actually hear you. You just sound like yelling. Let me cut to the chase here. I'm not that much older than you. I still know how to have fun, and I still appreciate some good ol' fashioned juvenile mischief. But what you are doing is not fun or good ol' fashioned juvenile mischief. It's annoying. Stop it.Please, in the future, keep your head in the car and your thoughts to yourself.

Nobody actually likes being startled and nobody cares what you think.

Sincerely,
Shawn

One of my favourite things about this post is its tone. Shawn's laidback candor is the perfect vehicle for expressing frustration that I can definitely identify with. One of my favourite types of humour is intelligent and witty and subtle. Shawn's got it nailed down here.

Great post, Shawn! You win a prize. Kate has it for you.

- Josh

You watched THAT movie?! and LIKED it?!

2009-08-06T13:06:00.000-04:00

I am inspired in this moment by a recent facebook post by my good friend Shawn. Hence, I begin a series of posts about movies I've seen and enjoyed, despite their possession of all the earmarks of lameness. Buckle thine seatbelts, gang.

The Movie:

Pathfinder - 2007, starring Karl Urban (of Star Trek and Lord of the Rings fame )

Here's what the critics had to say:

"Bombastic action rescues monotonous Pathfinder."
- Boston Globe

Both 'monotonous' and 'bombastic' in the same sentence! That's reason enought to watch, right?

"...a bizarre, bloody adventure movie..."
- Chicago Tribune

Who doesn't love bizarre and/or bloody andventure movies?

"...ridiculous..."
- New York Post

Yep. It was.

"All grunting, all goring, the witless action flick Pathfinder has little to recommend it..."
-New York Times

This one's my fave. 'grunting and goring' - brilliant. 'witless action flick'. Mmm, the words go down so smoothly!

That one's in the books. Please don't think less of me!

- Josh

Dear BurlingtonGreen...

2009-07-22T11:49:00.000-04:00

Dear BurlingtonGreen,

My name is Josh and I have a confession to make. I think I'm a fraud. I'm not completely sure, but I probably shouldn't be allowed to volunteer for an environmental community group such as yourself. I'm pretty sure I don't have what it takes, and when I get down to really thinking about it, I'm not even sure I want to.

Granted, when I first contemplated the whole “sustainability/environmentalism” movement a few years ago, I was fascinated – couldn't take my mind off it. Suddenly, everywhere I looked, I saw friends buying locally grown organic food, or boycotting certain clothing companies. Some people even went vegetarian. I watched from a distance with rapt attention. In the face of what were certainly sweeping life changes, I was horrified and inexplicably intrigued rolled together into one mess of confusing emotion. I couldn't look away; my captivation was eerily similar to the feeling you get at the 'bats' exhibit at your local museum or while watching PlanetEarth footage of a killer whale hunting seals.

The more I thought about it, though, the more impressed I became. My friends' devotion to 'living green' was both inspiring and contagious. I decided to give it a shot. My wife and I started buying from a local organic market, began to aggressively recycle, evangelize our other 'unbelieving' friends, and in a moment of heady fervour, I somehow concluded that I should try vegetarianism. That's where the downhill slide began.

I'm just going to be blunt about what happened next. I took on way too much way too soon. I hated not eating meat, and contemplating the onset of the summer barbecue season with the knowledge I could not participate ferociously eroded my resolve. Next, I started to hate not being allowed to buy coffee from Starbucks. I resented not being allowed to buy clothes that I liked because of where they came from. I hated having to pay almost double the price for locally grown food. I hated being 'green' because to me, being green meant depriving myself of stuff I liked – or paying hand over fist for its 'green' equivalent.

I'm acknowledge that this isn't exactly something you brag about, but today now that the smoke's cleared, I've only got a fraction of the motivation that I once had. That's my confession. I've lost my edge.

I wish I didn't struggle like this, I wish I the fortitude to stick with the 'sustainable' lifestyle. I wish I was doing my part. Instead, here I am, back at what feels like square one.

I'm sorry, BurlingtonGreen, but I can only take on one small lifechange at a time. Past experience dictates that I re-learn what it means to live an environmentally responsible life. I'm back in the proverbial saddle, it's true, but it's one baby step at a time for me. I'll probably never become an 'environmental warrior-machine' but please know I truly want to do my part to leave a better world for my kids. Just be patient with me.

Oh, and thanks. Thanks for walking me through this.

Sincerely,

Josh Gordon

Shoot Yourself in the Foot Day.

2009-07-18T11:38:00.000-04:00

All right. I've decided that today is hot-button topic day, also known as Shoot Yourself in the Foot Day. For your information, SYITF day is whenever I decide it is and there may or may not be recurring SYITF days to follow.

I'm not totally sure of where I stand on homosexuality. As a Christian, I know that many of my fellow believers state that the Bible is extremely clear on this issue, and I understand where they are coming from. There are numerous verses that do speak with great clarity to this issue. However, I am also aware that during the American Civil War, many Christians also said that the Bible clearly condoned human slavery. Scripture can be twisted and misunderstood, especially because of fear. I'm not so quick to jump on the Christian 'condemnation bandwagon'.

That being said, I earnestly desire to follow God with both my life and my belief system. I also firmly believe in applying the full strength of my mental capability to the issues that I encounter. So:

Thought #1
Gary Thomas wrote a fantastic book called Sacred Marriage. The central tenet of his work is that God intended for marriage to make us more holy, not more happy. Marriage's purpose is first and foremost to make us more Christlike. Through our spouse, God reveals to us the areas of our lives that need to change. As we learn to love, to live with anothers best interests placed ahead of our own, we grow.

Though #2
A while ago, I saw part of an Oprah episode. It was an accident, I promise. Anyway, Oprah was interviewing a woman who'd been straight her entire life. She went through a divorce in her early 40's, and in the wake of her disillusionment, decided to experiment with a same-sex relationship. I watched as she told Oprah how incredible it was to be with another woman. She talked of the intuitive understanding she had for for her partner. She glowingly described the intimacy they shared that grew intrinsically from their shared womanhood. She said she knew she was born a lesbian because none of her straight relationships were ever this easy. A thought suddenly flashed into my mind: Of course same-sex relationships are easy. They're both women, and they automatically understand one another in ways that a man never could. I was, quite honestly, extremely surprised by that thought. Immediately on its heels, though, came another.

Thought #3
I wonder if the potential for spiritual and personal growth in same-sex relationships gets short circuited. In my experience with my wife, I've had to learn to completely overhaul my thinking process. Sexuality is a perfect example. I am definitely visually oriented. Sarah definitely is not - if she was, she probably wouldn't have married me. I am definitely not emotionally oriented. Sarah definitely is. In our sex life, I try to the best of my ability to meet Sarah's emotional needs. She in turn, works to adjust to me. Through this conflict-readjustment process, Sarah and I sacrifice our natural way of thinking - our default settings, if you will - in order to more fully love each other.

Wrap Up
Because I love Sarah, I force myself to learn and do things that don't come naturally to me - so I can fulfill Sarah's unique needs as a woman . Because Sarah loves me, she also works hard to change her mindset in order to complement me as a man. I believe that because of this re-orientation I've become a better husband, and I am more like Christ.I suggest that healthy male-female relationships inspire spiritual and personal growth that is unmatched.

There, I've just shot myself in the foot.

Track 3

2009-06-17T23:54:00.000-04:00

This track had a noticeably darker tint to it - all nightmares and bloodshot eyes and loneliness and staining fear. I loved the minor-esque tone to the verses; it set up the smooth quasi-resolution that the bridgy/chorus thing brought. The song feels like someone running scared through a tunnel and suddenly bursting upon a quiet reassuring circle of light round a lamp post.

I think one of my favourite moments in this song is 'woven dreams unmade/ promise me you'll stay til morning breaks.' I immediately imagine the relief of a comforting presence in the midst of a difficult night. I think the powerful thing about this song is that someone is ushering you through the dark nightmares, facing the terror alongside you. For me, that message is stronger and more potent than, say, being completely 'delivered' from the struggle.

maybe my interpretation is too dramatic and campy... whatever, the song is brilliant.

Isabel Warren

2009-06-16T23:24:00.000-04:00

As reported in the Guelph Mercury, Isabel Warren, a 14 year old girl, was killed today. While using the washroom at a baseball field during gym class, one of the walls crumbled, collapsing on her. She was rushed to hospital where she died.

Isabel was an accomplished diver and had a truly beautiful spirit. I can say this because my in-laws and I had the pleasure having dinner with her a few weeks ago. After the evening concluded, we all remarked to one another the gentle spirit and genuine friendship that she exuded. Though I only knew her for an hour at most, Isabel left a distinct impression on me.

Death has always unnerved humanity, especially when it takes the young and promising. At times like this, my spirit is quiet. I wonder why I feel so vacant inside. At times like this, trite Hallmark comments like "she's in a better place' fall empty and hollow , the words crumbling to dust at my feet.

When life is long and good, then death is a reward, a doorway to heaven. But when the life snuffed out was barely 15 years long, death is a harsh taunt, a cruel cheat, a dark commentary on the fragility of our existence.

I really liked you a lot, Isabel.

Piper Sarah Grace Gordon

2009-06-12T09:54:00.001-04:00

Hey people... So, some big news: I'm officially a Dad!

As of 2:36 pm on June 8th, I am a father. My daughter was born weighing in at 7 lbs, 12 oz. She is named Piper Sarah Grace Gordon. Sarah and I could not be more proud!!! Here are a couple of pictures.

Track 2

2009-05-20T15:50:00.000-04:00

I LOVE your description of the new day dawning: crimson swarming midnight sky... love it! You've deftly captured one of creation's most fantastic displays of grandeur: 'I dare you not to smile wide'. This song has a special presence... it's a call to worship. You have very clearly shown beauty: 'you say you try to live where you treasure lies, but where have you been' is an arresting jolt of a question. this song is very spiritual - but it didn't seem that way to me at first. in some ways, this is the hardest hitting song on the demo. 'with your eyes half closed you stumble round on holy ground'. again, it didn't hit me until i'd listened to it a few times; its like a wake up call: "you think you've got it, people, but you're missing the point!" kind of like that. :)

Track 1

2009-05-16T17:21:00.000-04:00

track 1 - 'adrianna'

everyone has woken from a dream and been haunted by its memory. not many people though, have the ability to capture that experience as exquisitely as you have. i can see adrianna clearly in my mind, a beautiful young girl in desperate need of understanding. i especially appreciate how you've re created the longing to reach into adrianna's life to be the one to hold her. we weep because we can't.

i could say this for every song you've written: intensely lyrical and highly emotional.

Welcome to the fold, JerryBerry

2009-05-15T13:16:00.000-04:00

Well, team, I'd love for you all to read something I ripped from the BRAND NEW blog of a great friend of mine. His name is JerryBerry, and he has the lyrical skills of a bard. JerryBerry, I salute you and I welcome you to the blogosphere.

Everyone go look at his blog - but first, a pleasant diversion, courtesy of JerryBerry:

The Sea Lion's Mane

The sea lions mane puts all others to shame,
Licking his chest like a hot yellow flame,
It blows throught the wind in a furious rage,
Smelling of spices, a rich scented sage.

Genius, I tell you!! Read the rest of it HERE.

Though stressful and sodden with worry...

2009-05-13T13:21:00.000-04:00

Well, Sar and I have been living in Ontario for 9 nine days now, and it feels like we're beginning to get over the exhaustion accrued during the last month. However, being on the other side of a cross-country move carries with it an entirely new host of hurdles. As could be imagined, we're facing some pretty significant decisions over here.

The most pressing issues facing us at this time are work (for Josh), a baby coming in 3-4 weeks, and figuring out living arrangements. Needless to say, there's a little bit of anxious in the air right now.

I had an awesome chat with my Dad about all this stuff and throughout the course of our conversation I was brought back to a central truth that for some reason hasn't been so central in my thought processes. I've re-realized how important faith is. What or how I feel don't ever change that fact that God knows exactly where I'm going to work. He knows exactly where I'm going to live, He knows exactly how the baby stuff is going to pan out, and (to quote a letter I wrote to my wife), He knows exactly how the hell we're going to pay for it all.

Though stressful and sodden with worry, this part of our life is a blessing. We are being put through a testing period. The quality and strength of our faith and marriage is being increased. It's painful and hurts like the dickens for sure, but Sarah and I are beginning to understand that it's in such cramped times that we are purified.

Haha, I said 'dickens'!

Diaries of an Alpha Male: Vol 1

2009-04-27T18:16:00.000-04:00

To the untrained civilian eye, a cursory examination of me would turn up the expected biographical information: Joshua Gordon, 24 years old, married with his first baby on the way, family oriented man, x# of pounds, etc, etc... However, a much more perceptive eye could see the intensity and turbulent strength simmering below the mild yet engaging personality. On the outside, I could be a face in the crowd, as nameless as the next nine to fiver. Inside, however, lurks a tiger: pulsing bands of feline power.

I was selected at birth to perform. Factors outside my control have corralled my potential, sculpting destiny itself towards a goal. Today, my life's course follows the contours of Purpose. Since my first tottering steps, I've have been crafted into a perfect machine. I exist to fulfill a role as grandiose as any ever offered to a member of humanity. I am Joshua Gordon. I am twenty four years old and I am an older brother.

The Gordon Clan consists of figurehead-Dad and figurehead-Mom, older sister Liz, Me, six more boys, and finally, youngest sister Christel. That's nine kids, eleven Gordons total. (no twins or triplets... yes, they're all from the same marriage.)I've known for as long as I've been able to know anything that my role as the oldest boy is fraught with steep responsibility.

As a result, I acquired the merceneric mindset and cutthroat instincts of a predator early on in my childhood. My role as the oldest brother required – nay – demanded this of me. As brothers, we lived with an unspoken and unwritten code: outside the safety of home, we were a team, a tight-knit fraternity. We stamped our fraternal legacy with bruises upon unwitting would-be assailants.

As the oldest, it fell to me to serve as leader, a position I undertook with a sense of gravity and gritty determination. Not surprisingly, I felt the full weight of the Gordon brother's silent code. Thus, in order to best carry the mantel of protector and mentor to my siblings, I worked tirelessly to develop my skill.

At my peak, honed to a razor's edge, I bristled with finely tuned senses and blazing reflexes. However, the adage “you lose what you don't use” hung heavy in my mind and out of necessity, I turned to my brethren for practice... which leads us to the second half of our unwritten rule: inside the house, it's every brother for himself.

The battles that raged through the shared bedrooms, two bathrooms, and into the kitchen saw us exercise a relentlessly innovative guerrilla style warfare. We became masters of drawing from our environment; we built arsenals of wooden spoons, couch cushions, and mom's weighty feather pillows. We realized that creativity and the continuing evolution of battle stratagem was crucial to take the others by surprise and ultimately seal our own victory.

This renegade willingness to think and visualize outside of the confines of normal thought lent us the ability to discern a multitude of purposes for any household item. A can of air-freshener, for example, while a useful for masking bathroom smells, also served as rudimentary pepper spray. A handful of Lego scattered on the carpet while in full flight was debilitating to anyone in pursuit, eliciting howls of pain and delaying the chaser for two seconds at least. Socks could become especially effective weapons with minimal effort: roll the left one into a tight ball, dampen it under a bathroom faucet, and stuff to the bottom of the right sock.. The resultant club worked as an incredibly capable medium range weapon, especially when wielded in the confines of a hallway chase.

Naturally, throughout all of our battles, I was the perennial champion. I utilized an intense strategic regimen that revolved around an intimate knowledge of the landscape of our home. I immersed myself in the natural flow of traffic; I memorized the placement of couches and chairs; I understood the sock-to-slipperiness ratio of the kitchen linoleum (an invaluable asset);I knew all the sight-lines. And, I had a secret weapon. If ever I sensed the landscape of power shifting away from me, it took no time and only a little luck to pull out the big guns, my greatest and most potent skill: the ability to charm Mom and Dad.

Most of the time, our battles existed apart from either parent's influence, but with some imagination and significant emotional investment on my part, it was not at all atypical for an offender to be relegated to his bedroom for at least a ten minute time out. While this tactic did by its very nature bring with it levels of resentment from the other boys, it was effective. It bears mentioning that my record (and crowning glory) would undoubtedly be the forty-five minute grounding administered to younger brother Nathan for the shampoo-grenade incident.

All in all, I remain fully convinced that my lengthy dominance of my brethren is largely due to a two-pronged approach: my physical and intellectual/mental strength of presence in my family. It was exactly this multi-faceted plan of attack brought to bear in the perpetual in-house struggle that cemented my position as the Protector, the Mentor, and ultimately, the Don of the Gordon Brethren.

Time has passed, however, and I have moved out of the house and now have a family of my own. I live quietly , incognito, drawing as little attention to myself and my abilities as possible. I move through life, silent and watchful, the lurking tiger within always alert. My days as a renegade guerrilla warrior are over, but The General has come home.

a vision of my future

2009-04-22T18:08:00.000-04:00

Dear Readers,

I am a budding writer in the thick of both developing my voice and searching out my purpose in this craft. I'm encountering some very heavy questions, not the least of these to do with finding success in today's 'writing climate'.

I am both daunted by and skeptical of the prospect of getting involved with the writing industry as it exists today: the publishing industry's landscape has been completely re-sculpted. Within publishing, sales and manuscript acquisitions are down. Magazine and newspaper subscriptions are at an all time low, and online bookstores are virtually gutting conventional booksellers' business. In addition, the recent onset of a global recession has further crippled the industry, which now finds itself hobbling into an increasingly dismal scenario.

Writers such as myself are on the 'hinge-point' of a culture. We face the challenge of aspiring to make a living through an industry that seems to be on its last legs. Our desired profession must, on pain of non-existence, adapt to not only the viral nature of the internet, but also to faltering book sales and the displacement of reading as entertainment. My generation must be relentlessly creative in the face of mounting odds: we must innovate to save our future.

But I am only one person. I have ideas and passions, but one man is not a movement. My world is aching for hopeful discussion, for a new take on this messy realism. I am hungry for partners and compatriots to wrestle through all of this with me.

How can new writers get their work into the hands of the public – and support themselves at the same time?
Is it feasible for writers to collaborate with artists and sell a joint product (ie: book with a soundtrack CD in the jacket, or a series of paintings accompanied by short stories, etc...)?
How can writers maximize the potential of natural 'gathering places' like coffee-shops or pubs?
What, if anything, is wrong with with the current structure of the publishing industry?
What's more important for a writer: getting one's name 'out there' or signing a book deal?

Well, that's the tip of the iceberg. I hope this is something you're able to dialogue with me about.

Sincerely,

- Josh

yah, we're moving, so...

2009-04-04T16:16:00.000-04:00

hey friends!

um, just so y'all are aware, my wife and i are moving in 3 weeks or so, so i probably won't be all that active for the next month...

if you have questions, feel free to email me at: josh.gordon1985@gmail.com.

thanks!

- josh

it's about my wife...

2009-03-20T14:50:00.001-04:00

I just want everyone to know what a fascinating and beautiful wife I
have. sarah, i'm in love with you!

for sarah

sarah, my muse, my dove and my breath

without thine sweet friendship

i'd languish near death.

if you had said "NO!" when i asked for thine hand

a sadder fellow than me

you'd not find in this land

oh yes, indeed! perish the thought!

that a lonely and unfinished life

was my lot!

but thou savest mine days with a sweet lovely "YES!"

(after both mom and dad

our intentions did bless)

and then at long last, we set us a date:

june twenty third:

"forever best mates"

and then at the hip our two lives were joined

voila! encroyable!

sweet romance! (oing oing)

and still (to this minute) truest lovers we are:

our matrimonial bliss

raises the bar

in september oh-eight God said, 'hey, maybe

it'd be super swell

to give 'em a baby!

and now, sarah sweetie, it's clear that thine womb

is our baby gordon's

very first room!

so for rich or for poor, for joy or for fuss

a cute little munchkin

you're building for us!

ooh, boy, do i love her...

- josh

--
http://thelifeandtimesofjoshua.blogspot.com

baby update!

2009-03-17T23:13:00.000-04:00

so, those of you who/whom(?) aren't yet aware will find out (via this post) that my wife and i are neck deep into our first pregnancy. (okay, actually picturing that image is kind of gross. ewww) aanyways, we had an ultrasound today and i've got pictures!! our kid is awesome. i can already tell.

yes, we did find out the probable gender of the child... if you want to know, you can email me. or comment on this blog and leave your email address. or whatever. so, it also appears that sarah's low lying placenta is no longer low lying! hooray!!! if you want to know why i am especially happy about that, comment. or email.

during the ultrasound, our child yawned alot of times. like four times. apparently that's a lot (according to Robyn, our super nice ultrasound techie).innat great? i think so...

usually, the question people ask at this point is "have you guys thought about names?" i typically respond by saying that we have a name picked out already. now, oddly enough, lately a few of the 'dark horse' names have been performing really well. in fact, i'm almost inclined to think our predetermined selection may be challenged.

we'll see...

dammit, another reason to stop trying...

2009-03-14T18:23:00.001-04:00

i found this somewhat disheartening interview with robert elwood burns, a published author with a varied (and impressive) career involving the american peace corps, working as an economic consultant for the world bank, advising several developing nations on transportation strategy, and work as an insider in the publishing industry. here, he comments on the process of getting a fiction manuscript published:

"In 2004 it is estimated that 195,000 books were published. That is the good news. The bad news is that the vast bulk of these were non-fiction. Of the fiction that is published only a handful of best-sellers turn a profit and provide a living for the writer. The rest sell only a few thousand copies and lose money. This increasingly winner-take-all phenomenon is reflected in the evolution of the industry: In 1980 there were seventy-nine publishers in Manhattan. Twenty years later there were five, of which three were owned by giant media corporations. The survivors are bottom line operations that view the novel as a commodity – not a work of art. They have cut their costs by outsourcing editorial services to freelance editors here and in India, thereby avoiding the health care and pension costs of permanent staff. Limited marketing resources have been placed on a few likely winners. They have stopped reviewing unsolicited proposals and depend on freelance agents to screen them. Every aspiring author has to find an agent first. Agents, in turn, hire new graduates (or undergraduates) at minimum wages to screen proposals. Turnover is high, and overflowing in trays can be emptied by placing a preprinted rejection note in the self-addressed stamped envelope the writer has to provide -- not unlike the Chinese policy of charging the family of an executed enemy of the state for the bullet that ends his life."

if ever there was a need for creativity and innovation to break into a potential field of work, this is it... but heck, i'm creative and innovative, right?

right?

i find inspiration...

2009-03-12T17:10:00.000-04:00

... in the pages of "World Changing: a user's guide to the 21st century".

a lot of people are surprised by my growing fascination with and investment into the burgeoning 'green culture' that is slowly taking root across the globe. i'd say that purchasing the aforementioned book (on sale for 12.99 through Pages in Kensington) was one of the decisions that started me on a journey that has seen me go vegetarian, switch to buying organically, and research the companies i buy from to make sure they're ethical in their business practices.

who knew this could happen to josh gordon? not me, that's for damn sure.

anyways, this 600 page compilation of essays, articles, and innumerable resources (lists of books, mags, websites, etc...) is not only great reading, but it's also absolutely packed with hopeful insights into creating a sustainable world. i love it. i've actually read right through front to back (which astonishes me), and through each of the 9 sections i found myself engaged critically, creatively, and intellectually. here's a quick paragraph I found particularly compelling int the "stuff: future of food" section:

"In the past half century, farming has, for the most part, been transformed from the sort of family enterprise depicted in children's books into full blown industrial resource extraction. Preserving the world's soils and the biological diversity of the crops is key to maintaining healthy global ecosystems, curbing poverty, and ensuring a peaceful future for billions of people. Possible solutions abound. Instead of turning the soil every year, we can grow perennial plants that need no tilling. Instead of growing square miles of one kind of corn, we can assemble a whole community of crops based on native plants that can support each other. In other words, we can build a farm the way nature would."

for some reason, after reading that i get all excited - and i'm not a farming kind of guy!

I think that what makes me excited is being a part of actually changing something. being a small piece of a larger 'movement' is immensely satisfying. as my life changes, my world changes - and that is making all the difference.

- josh

plays well with others...

2009-02-28T19:42:00.000-05:00

i've just recently begun yet another project: this time with a friend of mine who's been wanting to write a musical. though musicals aren't exactly the thing that i wake up to do every morning, i decided to work on the script. i figure that i want to be a better writer and my friend wants to become a better songwriter, so it makes sense all around. now, as fun as it feels right now to start this, i'm also beginning to feel some, erm... trepidation.

now,i get very excited when working with other like minded artists: when someone else is as excited as i am, the ideas flow thick and fast. I'm also a verbal thinker, so i get the coolest thoughts when i'm in discussion with others.

all that being said, it's also the most draining to spend time with someone who isn't on the same page - someone who isn't thinking along the same lines as i am. it seems that working with others is not only the thing that is the most thrilling but also the most difficult and full of drudgery.

plays well with others? i'd like to think i do, but i'm still figuring it out...

fiction: in my last, long corridor

2009-02-27T08:05:00.000-05:00

"shut up! shut up! shut the hell up!" there was no other way. i knew it - and i'm damn sure he knew it. "i don't care! shut up!" this whole world - my whole world - was in a long and painful tail spin. this would make it go away. "shut up! this has to happen!"

even at this very second, as i look out over a sparkling nightscape, as the neon lights of nightlife glare coldly, he won't give in. "shut up! shut up! you gave up control a long time ago. i'm making this decision!" i can't even believe this! it's almost hilarious! i can feel the wind on my cheeks, in my hair, and he won't shut up! i can see the rippling reflections in the bay and the moon shines over head, my own personal guard, my escort down this last long corridor, and he! ugh!

"this is right! shut up and listen! you know this is right!"i knew it was right. he pretty damn well knew it too. i can see cars streaming on the highway below me, red and yellow lights streaking; i feel the cold steel cables at my back and he won't shut up! even as this girder shakes because of the behemoth semis roaring overhead, he will not be quiet. "leave me alone! it's my decision! it's the only way! this is all that is left for me to do! please, just let me finish this in peace!"

he. will. not. shut. up!

i raise my voice and scream into the traffic and wind: "shut up and leave me alone! let me die on my own terms! this is me right now!" anger burns inside against him. he put me here. he put me in this place. he got me here! he left me no choice!

i'm out of breath and i suddenly realize that i'm crying: tears flow down my face. "please... just... go away." turmoil churns inside now, and despite my thin shirt i hardly notice the cold of the girders or feel the hard edged rivets through my aging tennis shoes. "this isn't my fault. this is your fault. i'm doing you a favour." the words bounce around under the overpass, ricocheting from girder to girder while midnight traffic rushes beneath me. "you know i'm right..." despair chokes me, a hard lumping ache of it at the back of my throat.

no! the only thing that can keep the despair at bay is anger, and it comes again, a full rushing tide of it. "you did this! i hate you!! i hate you! i hate the decisions you made, i hate the lies you told and i hate hate hate - you!!!" my throat burns. it's ragged from screaming in this cold, but i don't care because it serves him right. he deserves this. he deserves every ounce of this misery.

In the Hall of Stone

2009-02-26T21:27:00.000-05:00

In the Hall of Stone and chiseled rock

Ghostly spirits stir the air

Haunting whispers, bitter words

Forget! Abandon! Forsake! Despair!

In the Hall of Stone and twisted plots

A cunning tyrant rules and schemes

Dark eyes, red rimmed with greed and lust

Dark heart consumed by darker dreams

In the Hall of Stone and stinking rot

Legends weep and heroes die

Deeds gather rust as chains corrode

And names fade thin in dungeon night

In the Hall of Stone where I am lost

I curse my shackled legs and wrists

Then steel dissolves in inky rain

And a pen rewrites deliverance

when the words words won't come out

2009-02-25T15:39:00.000-05:00

ii sometimes think i don't have things to say. which, combined with sickness, a general feeling of dumpiness, and overall lack of desire towards anything, contributes heavily to extensive periods of non-involvement with 'the blogosphere'.

it's true that i haven't blogged for... 14 days. it's also true that i haven't read other blogs for about that long. it is ALSO true that in the past 14 days, well, longer than that really, i've been entrenched in a very grey time. life seems to be just meandering along - which is cool when stuff's interesting- but right now, i feel very bored. life's meandering through a really bored place. and that sucks.

i'm increasingly reminded, though, that a lot of control does lie within my own fingers (cue scene from Willow: "which finger is the most powerful?"). my grey landscape does not have to be that way. i can quite easily continue to monger up ideas and stories and songs and feelings - i need to be much more conscientous about the whole thing.

oh well.

p.s. do you know that sometimes i title a blog first, then write based on the title? it's sort of silly, like buying a gift based on what the wrapping paper looks like.

- josh

at long, long last, more scattered thoughts that are kind of related

2009-02-11T12:51:00.000-05:00

ok, there's dust on my computer keys. it's been a very very long time...

today, i feel very strange - which is not unusual these days. by now, a lot of people know that my wife and I are moving back to ontario (this decision was motivated chiefly because of the impending birth of our child - june 10th, actually). However, there are have been some unexpected 'ramifications' to such a life change that I have been struggling to cope with. here's one of them:

I have been, for the past few weeks, caught in a 'quasi-slump', a time of anxious introspection. It's funny - they say that the three largest stressors in life are having a child, moving, and looking for a new job. ha. ha. I'm going through all of these things at one time.

the job thing scares me the most; to be honest, i'm not at all afraid of not getting a job. i'm petrified of being forced into getting a job that i hate, just to have a job. in 'these economic times' the prospect of job hunting is not necessarily a happy one. at the same time, though, i've always been inspired by the blank canvas - a new landscape just waiting for the installation of my new life.

eek.

re: into the woods

2009-01-19T11:34:00.000-05:00

for those of you who don't know, the small-group that i'm a part of through church has been pursuing the rights to the popular musical "into the woods". we're planning on producing the show with proceeds going to a charity of our choice. can i just say right now that it's been an uphill battle? it has.

and now, we're in a place of decision. here's an email i sent out:

hey guys;

so, money issues aside (HOLY CRAP!!), i think we're going to have a tough time being ready for a mid-April show dates if we still have to wait to a) send the contract in (fax it probably), b) get the materials from MTI. that's probably 2-3 weeks minimum, right? that's Consideration A.

also, if we do the show do we HAVE to do both acts? can we just do act 1? 'Cause the contract says pretty explicitly that we can't delete any part of the play. That makes me feel like if we sign the contract, we'd be forced to do both. that's Consideration B.

this is a huge thing with pretty hefty commitments - that's not just time i'm talking about either. if Oakpark covers the costs for us and the show (heaven forbid) bombs, we'd all have to commit to paying back. that's Consideration C.

At the same time, though, how proud of ourselves would we be if we actually pulled it off? It'd be frickin amazing! how huge of a testament to our small group and to CREATE Productions. I'm already proud to have you guys as my closest friends, but multiply my current pride by a gazillion and that's probably what we'd ALL feel. I'll be honest, team, most of me is queezy and scared, but the artist inside is like, 'what the hell! we can only fail - and that wouldn't be the end of the world! Lets do it!'

I'm breathless for this chance, guys! we're awesome and i think if we all pulled together we could do a masterful job! when are we going to have another opportunity like this? If we go out on a limb and place ourselves in a space where we really really need God, i'm confident that he will come through.

let's hit the next level as friends and artists. Let's kick the shit out of 'into the woods'.

- josh

p.s. i'm still scared.

re: ~m's comment on 'my soap box: living in a self help era and why its the worst'

2009-01-15T11:56:00.000-05:00

please, ~m, a soap box is not the place for balanced and/or thoughtful discussion. please do not require me to spend time and energy bolstering the stance i have taken here.

geez.

- josh

ps. i know i said i wanted to have a discussion, but venting is only satisfying when no one disagrees.

i thought you'd be waaay more sensitive.

- josh

reality check #1: the ultrasound

2009-01-14T17:36:00.000-05:00

They say that this picture is a child at 20 weeks... kind of like OUR child right now. unfortunately,we weren't able to get a cd of pictures of the ultrasound but, as the husband responsible, i got to sit in. and it was awesome.

through the sometimes disorienting blur of white and black dots, i suddenly came face to face with the biggest reality check of my life. i watched a little baby move and kick. holy wowsers.

i saw the little heart beating. and i watched the little child hiccup.

i was surprised; the child was actually fully stretched out, not curled up like i expected it to be. i think that the most impactful moment was seeing its toes. i always knew that little babies had toes, but just seeing them on the ultrasound screen was, i don't know... wow.

if it sounds like i'm rambling and my thoughts are scrambled, it's 'cause they are and i'm sort of overwhelmed.

- josh

my friends inspire... self reflection and twinges of guilt.

2009-01-14T17:08:00.000-05:00

(in response to 'timeless', a post by ~m)

oh my gosh, yes, i remember those nights; they're especially cold in my memory, ~m.

and yes, it's incredibly easy to waste time. with my job, i find i have lots and lots and lots of free time during the day when the guys are at their programs. I wish i had stacks upon stacks of writing to point to as evidence of my free hours, but alas and alack. i have nothing. i have spent far too much time making just one more peanut butter and banana sandwich, watching just one more episode of friends or 24, or checking my email just one more time.

its ridiculous to think that there are coffee shops and bookstores and awesome websites and fantastic stories out there - all waiting to be discovered and i let them dissolve into shadowy half-realities. at the expense of what?

um... well, i had a really good peanut butter and banana sandwich the other day...

crap.

update

2009-01-12T12:56:00.000-05:00

sarah's first ultrasound is today and yes, we're going to find out the gender of our child.

everybody guess!!!

my soap box: living in a self-help era and why it's the worst

2009-01-12T10:41:00.000-05:00

can we talk for a few moments about our generation? can we spend some time in genial discourse? would it be fine to delve together into the mysterious shadowed folds of our culture?

i would like that.

to begin our time together, i've prepared a few statements. they are inspired in part by pastor steve, and in part by random chats i've had with others in my life, from both near and far.

firstly, we have a fascination with 'experts telling us how we don't need experts'. ie: "if you read my book, you'll discover why you won't need other experts telling you how to build a deck/marinate a steak/lose weight/write a book, etc..." this is also known as self help.

secondly, self help books erode what little community we manage to cobble together in our individualistic and ego-centric society. if we allow ourselves to be constantly directed inward to find the resources we need, we withdraw from those around us.

thirdly, self-aholics (not my phrase) will always focus on themselves and put minimal energy into understanding others. their passions and their latest projects and their problems with boys/girls/inadequacy/busyness/insert topic here will always take precedence over the issues of others. even when others are talking, self-aholics are not paying full attention. rather, they are formulating their own responses to what is being said.

pant, pant.

i'm done.

ok.

prayer retreat journaling

2009-01-07T12:45:00.000-05:00

tonite is the strength you need. fire. orange tongues of heat. frenetic whirling figures. chaos.

these were the images i left on my page before trying to sleep. i tossed all nite, waking every few hours. when i awoke,i felt battered and worn. as the sun rose into the blue, i still moved under a perpetual grey sky of uncertainty.

but then, dawn broke and rays of brilliant clarity and golden heaven sent insight illumined me and i saw what i needed to do.

i walk in peace.

inside myself

2009-01-06T12:21:00.000-05:00

in the still of my heart, I heard weeping. it was soft, an otherworldly whimper. the whispered sobs filled me, not with their sounds, but with their substance. an inexplicable tearing began, slow and painful, fibres of me separating. in the ripping, i felt sorrow and anxiety. i quieted the welling emotion and relegated it to my darkness.

while the world revolved around me, i moved with it. i carried the sobs and the tears and the brokenness inside. as time drew me forward, I followed.

re: how i praise, by shawn b

2009-01-06T01:51:00.000-05:00

hmmm.

like you shawn, my spirit comes alive in new ways during worship 'space'. for me, the music and reverent atmosphere open room inside my spirit. in those moments, my 'inner sanctum' is prepared for what god wants to do.

god has used other media to do this as well: staring at certain paintings (someone tell frake he's awesome), conversations that convict and inspire, friends that build one another up (create, you know who you are), and certain mini albums.

...but nothing else draws me to god's heart as quickly as listening to my wife pray.

prayer retreat journaling #1

2009-01-05T13:37:00.000-05:00

after a xmas break like i've experienced and all of the emotion and the breakneck pace of my internal processing, I find myself in a confused and wandering place.

i'm at a crossroads that feels like less of a crossroads and more of a maze. a truly dizzying array of options, choices, and pressing decisions whirl at torrid speeds in my mind. i've not been this lost in so long and part of me desperately hopes this week will quiet the incessant buzzing.

and yet, despite all of my anxiety and confusion, there is an island of peace. I feel it in my core, a tiny world of quiet, existing timelessly, regardless of the noise outside.

I cling to This. It is my Anchor and Guiding Star.

my recent mind life

2008-12-20T18:38:00.000-05:00

i've been in a strange new state of mind for a few weeks now. my mind has been on a constant simmer, ideas and thoughts intersecting neatly one with the next. its too much for me to record in the context of a few paragraphs, but i seem to run into inspiring people and events and conversations every day. at coffee with a close friend, i commented on this - and also on how absent minded i've been lately. the response was not what i expected: perhaps your mind has allocated all resources to creativity; there is nothing left for the silly humdrum (my paraphrase). an encouraging idea! it makes me feel like i'm all scatter-brained artist!

and that's just so cool!

four runners pt 1

2008-12-18T19:02:00.000-05:00

mourning doves stir
as the sun gilds the pines
in the high mountain's shadow
darkness aligns

dawn is brittle
and its light struggles, frail
around the base of the pines
black mists prevail

yet through the thick
from the deep forest's bound
from the eastern horizon
trickles a sound

black mists shrink back
the sound joins into light
in the dark of the pine trees
four shapes gain sight

hey shawn...

2008-12-15T12:45:00.000-05:00

hey shawn...

so, i've been listening to your mini album quite a bit in the last few days - and it has been fantastic. lyrically, each of your songs has certain powerful images that stand out in the listening - whether the haunting face of young girl peering out of a dream, branches overhead slowly moving with the wind, street lights 'imbuing' the air with soft glow. the imagery is exceptional and the stories contained within each song are poignant and emotive.

I feel a little unqualified to comment on the musical aspect of your EP, but as the majority of listeners will probably have the same (or less) knowledge of music that I have, I'll put forth my best effort, yes i will.

with a lot of music 'out there', it could be said...

if you want to know more about the upcoming release of shawn baran's mini album, you'll have to ask shawn - or you can check out his myspace page.

arriving at myself: who am i?

2008-12-13T13:46:00.000-05:00

as i consider all that has been said concerning conscious actions versus subconscious desires, i wonder if i'm in a good place to be writing or speaking about this. on the other hand, perhaps a state of wonderment is the best place of all to think out of. nevertheless, the idea of exploring the 'self-concept' holds an aura of mystery and allure. maybe that's why i'm a christian spirituality major. embracing the unknown and following what seem to be trails of smoke unearth a wildly emotive and desperately expressive side of me.

in the past, i've had numerous fireside-esque conversations with many dear friends about 'what lies beneath'. i've always considered the notion that there are shifting forces of desire and instinct within me, engaged in a slow churning rotation. there have been many times where the things i do have seemed to be merely reactive - a product of the inner struggle. however that seems too base and humanistic. as a man who is imago dei, i believe that there are patterns inside me that run far deeper than freud's id.

i believe that there are trends of thought and instinct that can be traced to places deep inside of josh gordon. i tend to track the patterns and trends along their lines into myself, where they seem to originate. but as i follow them, they dissolve within me. they track through places so shadowed and obscure they are impossible to observe.

i'm sure we've all seen shadows of trees or lampposts or street signs stretching far down the road, seeming to flee from the setting sun. if we change our perspective thought, the shadows of the trees or lampposts or street signs could almost stretch into the darkness in order to compel us towards the light. shadows point to a setting sun. perhaps the deep seated and ingrained desires within me do not originate from me and spread outward. Perhaps they originate from Someplace outside and radiate inward, finding their mark.

perhaps in my quest to arrive at myself, i should start my journey from outside, from the only Point of Reference that never changes or adjusts. perhaps from that external beginning i can begin to understand most clearly and grasp most strongly the bed in which i am truly rooted and from which i grow.

"i am a person who struggles mightily... i struggle to grow into the dream God is stirring within me. i struggle to become myself."

free association

2008-12-10T17:19:00.000-05:00

shimmering cracks
spider web fault lines

red scarlet tracks
into deep sucking green

smooth leg lines
and spinal curve

spin wobble dancer
train grinning shine

it all becomes clear
a student of mind

The Thinking Wall

2008-12-08T16:00:00.001-05:00

The evolution of our basement continues to move forward: onward and upward, I always say. Anyhow, we've created a thinking wall. It's pretty rad - brown paper coats the wall beside the desk and we basically write whatever the hell we want to on the brown paper. We might tack up an unpaid bill, or a poem, or an article, or some artwork. Whatever we want.

I really like it. it's cool, and it makes me feel edgy and culturally subversive. I know that there's no rational reason for that, but somehow my brain connects cool and youthful decor with edginess and subversion of culture. Of course, maybe I am actually culturally subversive and my brain automatically feeds that fact into the equation so when the question "is the thinking wall edgy and culturally subversive?" comes up, it goes like this:

Is the thinking wall edgy and culturally subversive?
fact: it came from josh's brain.
fact: josh is edgy and culturally subversive
therefore: what comes from josh's brain must be edgy and culturally subversive

equals: the thinking wall is edgy and culturally subversive

I'm sure there's a logic breakdown in there somewhere. It's just brown paper on a wall with sharpies taped to it.

Community Natural Foods

2008-12-08T15:52:00.000-05:00

So today, Sarah and I went to Community Natural Foods to stock up on a few items we've been running low on. We needed some milk - that was the big one. And prenatal vitamins for Sarah. We also looked like we might have needed cheese soon, too.

Organic milk definitely costs $10. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do it. It makes no sense: we (impulse) bought a book about how certain foods are good to heal certain unwanted illnesses... as most illnesses are unwanted. We bought another christmas CD, we bought chili powder, some herbal tea that I can't pronounce, and something else... i can't remember what.

We seriously spent like $50 we didn't plan on, and I couldn't fork over an extra $5 for organic milk. It's strange, and I don't understand it all.

If Christians Would Just Try Harder!!!

2008-12-08T00:33:00.000-05:00

Aaargh....

Take a look at this:

if christians would just try harder!!

it pretty much is exactly what i'm trying to get everyone to do.

- josh

three windows

2008-11-29T17:15:00.001-05:00

Before me, I see waves sluggishly pound a pebbled shore as the sun purples into evening. To my left, see shadows stretch long and blend into night as surely as the black velvet sky unrolls over head. To my right, I see deer and antelope feeding at twilight, moving through Serengeti grasses. But what I see with my eyes and what in I know to be true stand sharply opposed. And so, with night’s advent, I wait breathless for my fears to be realized. As surely as I knew, a moon rose three times; yellow, red, and silver.

The yellow moon flickered and wavered, shuddering as waves below rolled to shore steadily, rhythms of inevitable doom. Then the red moon’s light lanced into the forest and trees were ignite with angry crimson. To my right, silver beams slit sharply, knifing into the long grasses, gleaming dangerously on the backs of night-feeding animals: highlights and targets.

Then I feel it. A cold damp mass in my stomach: a leaden lump of terror. Predators can sense fear - they can taste it in the air, sharp and metallic and tangy acid black. The night feeders scatter with spastic jerky movements as dark shapes converge, moving stealthily.

I stand stock still, terrified that if I moved even slightly, the gripping fear will betray me. Like the night that has now erased all thoughts of escape, waves of fright, new and yet so familiar, crash into me. Traces of the damp fear slurp at the base of my spine. With every short ragged breath, I feel it sucking nearer to my lungs.

Then with a blurred whirl, the three windows coalesce in a brilliant flash of blazing light. Suddenly I no longer stand trapped in a room with three windows to three worlds. Suddenly, I stand on the precipice to one new world under one new moon. And the bone white light of the last moon rocks me. Dry. Arid. Hard.

It is before this brilliant and terrible beacon of night that I feel my soul quiver. As smoothly as sand through my fingers, the tattered shreds of my defence dissolve. Stunned, I crouch, my fear open and quivering and alive in every joint. I feel it when my shoulders twitch. I feel it sting in my nostrils and burn in my lungs. Beneath the hammer hard light, I am reduced to helpless scraps tossed about in the pooling, shifting, and menace-rippling bone-white light. O God. Please let me wake up. It’s all too real. My whisper dropped, nearly splashing.

With every ounce of energy, I willed myself somewhere else. With every ounce of energy, I willed myself somewhere else. With every ounce of energy, I willed myself somewhere else. With every ounce of energy, I willed myself away from this horrible drenched place. With every ounce.

three windows

2008-11-29T17:15:00.000-05:00

Dirgible Stamps pt 2

2008-11-24T14:56:00.000-05:00

And in the compound, every word spoken echoed loudly off the harsh linges and square cut stone walls; even whispers reverberated. Within the insular environment of the compound, Dirgible’s home, sound was a commodity quickly losing value.It wasn’t that Survivors had lost all use for sound, it was just that... well, they didn’t seem to need it all that much anymore. Only the children laughed or giggled aloud, and Dirgible was no longer a child. He was proud of each surpressed outburst. Even now, he walked slowly and placed each foot just so, stepping lightly and moving silently. In the silence, everything was layered with the thin fabric of peace. And Dirgible Stamps’ parents were so proud of their son.

Child Sleeping

2008-11-24T14:18:00.000-05:00

Words ache, as I give voice to the deep seated pain buried inside me. They are fleeting and brittle, cracking and fractured by unrest and mounting internal pressure. When finally I am unable to form words any longer, anguished groans fill this place. The sound of my woundedness is resonant and somber, brimming with near-tangible grief and fear and doubt. For a moment, I lay, hiding nothing, hesitantly opening myself. Suddenly and desperately, my pain feels the shock of exposure and I want it hidden once more. I want to shove it as far back within me as possible - but a sweet and gentle Presence stops my hand.With complete tenderness and utter care, the Presence holds my anguished beating heart cupped in His hands. As my splintered emotions pulse in His palms, they are reflected in His eyes; my sadness and the starved desperation I feel move across His face, flickering for scant moments before melting into tears rolling down His cheeks. The cotton soft warmth of love steals over me, filling my chest and abdomen, draining into my legs and glowing up my spine. I feel every other emotion fade with quiet exit gasps. My eyes droop and as the Presence engulfs me, I drift into the comfort of healing sleep.Like a child asleep in the arms of its Father, I slumber. With every slow breath, I am drawn closer to the heart of God.

Christmas Chaos

2008-11-20T12:18:00.000-05:00

For me, Christmas has always meant chaos. It's always meant an exiting blur of wrapping paper, scribbled greeting cards, seasonal colours, parties, food, lights, decorted trees, and anticipation. It's always been that for me; looking back on all the Christmases that I can remember is like staring at a shifting and blurred mass of colour. As I look, memories emerge to clarity for a few moments beore blending smoothly into history once again.

Now, part of the holiday season that I love so much is the fast pace and near hectic schedule that I find myself self entrenched in every year without fail: it's become part of the season for me. And I also know that every year without fail, I'm going to hear some one 'soap-box' themselves to death campaigning against this. Whether it's via a blog, radio commercial, or a sermon, I'm confident that I will run across someone who declares brashly that we need to stop our busyness because the season is becoming too crammed with 'stuff' that we're forgetting (how I detest this phrase) 'the 'reason for the season''... I hate when people say that the seasonal mess of Christmas lights and good and presents distracts us from Jesus!

I LIKE the hecticness of my festivities!! I really honestly like the rushing from party to party. I sort of enjoy (in a sadistic and slightly masochistic way) tearing my hair out buying presents for Jeremy or Nathan - or Trevor, who is ridiculously difficult to buy for. Honestly, I feel that the craziness of my days leading up to Christmas actually props the significance of that Day up higher than it would have been otherwise.

You see, the busyness of my holidays comes to a screeching halt on Christmas Day; that day, December 25, stands out from all the rest. Amid the scrambling chaos, I kneel and allow the Star of Heaven to illuminate the focal point of my Christmas. It is in the midst of the busy Christmas - New Year's season that I understand most clearly and truly and deeply who the Prince of Peace is.

sparkles of brilliance, glimmers of genius

2008-11-18T18:16:00.000-05:00

So, everyone, this week I had a cool conversation via Gmail chat. It was between a close friend of mine (Shawn) and me. you should look at shawn's blog. after you read this.

we got into some potentially DEEP stuff. It was all like, intellectual (sort of) well - you read it:

Me: are you able to do coffee this week, man? Shawn: yeah... when do you want to do it? Me: um. I'm pretty wide open this week. what about like, tomorrow, like sometime? like lunch? I could like, buy you lunch or something. Shawn: no way... you bought us dinner... we're even - tomorrow works for me Me: you can pay if you want. Shawn: no way... I don't have a $400 surplus just kidding it'll be a surprise Me: yah. i'm not laughing. Shawn: yes you are Me: eff you man. Shawn: your not making a good case for lunch. i wish I hadn't misspelled "your" Me: i don't even think i can respect you. Shawn: ... harsh Me: yah, well. Shawn: :( Me: (I'm feeling guilty, dammit!) Shawn: i'm gonna take you off my bff list that's what those emoticon tears mean Me: ah, eff that man! I wanna stay on the list! crap. my inner self is berating my outer self for such bumbling conversational skills. Shawn: but you totally redeemed with the endearing use of the word "bumbling" Me: brilliant...so, 11:30? 11:45? Shawn: sure... do you want me to meet you or do you want to meet me? Me: do you wanna do east side marios here at chinook? I love that place. Shawn: yeah, that place rocks! Me: OR!!! Shawn: or? Me: the pancake house up off crowchilde!!! crowchilde? Shawn: no "e" Me: yah... i figured. the proper spelling is like on every roadsign in the city. i sometimes type wrong. Shawn: that's okay... you use words like "bumbling" which covers a multitude of spelling sins Me: great. I actually think i'd rather do E S M. but I'm open. Shawn: I think I'm gonna have to agree... if for no other reason than Sara and I have promised F&J that our first time would be with them. Me: aaah. we had our first time with F&J this sunday. Shawn: nice Me: you're an honourable fellow. Shawn: well, I am a pastor you know Me: hey, did you ever read that "in the hall of stone" poem i wrote a while back? Shawn: yeah I did. it was great. Me: cool. i just wanted to make sure I'd exposed myself to you. (dirty!!) Shawn: that time was all you Me: yah, yah, i'm taking all the blame. Me: sometimes i write stuff and don't think of how it could be dirty. i mean, I totally expose myself when I write poetry. Poetic expression is an exercise in vulnerability, right? (of course, the 'dirty!!!' didn't help at all.) Shawn: absolutely, as is all artistic expression, but I feel like poetry is a little more naked, because you don't have plot, or colour, or melody to hide behind
it's just pure linguistic emotion Me: exactly. the weird thing is, with In the Hall of Stone, I totally didn't think I was writing a self expressing poem. but the more that i think about it, the more I realize it totally is. people can totally see things about me that I didn't realize they could... it's kind of like realizing that someone's been watching you shower. Shawn: hot. i mean i know what you mean - although I felt the self expressing vibes right away. well... actually, because I had just watched Lord of the Rings before reading it, I though of dwarves first... but THEN I felt the self expressing vibes. It's interesting how sometimes we are the last ones to become aware of what we're expressing in our art Me: yah, man. it's interesting - someone else who read the poem mentioned LOTR as well. one of the absolute cool things about art is that it's a window into who i am. i look through my own window into areas of my life that, often, i can't consciously see. Shawn: totally Shawn: in a lot of ways, art allows us to transcend the neurological limitations of our existence... it's seems like one of the only ways that we can truly step out of ourselves and see what we normally can't Me: exactly! which is why i'm so fascinated with the art that I've produced. So much of it is dark and a little disturbing. kind of makes me think i might be a freak. Shawn: i understand... you look at and think "where the hell does this stuff come from?" Me: completely. I totally had a huge conversation like this with Dorsey last evening. Shawn: by the way... sorry that we couldn't come to the Dogma party last night... Sara had a class and I was a guest speaker at it. We didn't get the message until we got home - [all that was a] side note...carry one ... what? carry ON... Me: i talked about how there's these deep seated 'forces' inside of me that shift and grind against one another - sort of like tectonic plates.
every once in a while, they jut through the surface of my conscious. then i'm like 'what the hell is that thing jutting into my conscious? why is it here?' it's messed sometimes. i really wish i could look at myself - the really real me, beneath my conscious level of operating. Shawn: oh... we have much to talk about... Neuropath. Eff, man. Me: i can imagine... hey i should go. Randy just home. what time are we going to meet? Shawn: how 'bout I meet you at your place at noon Me: sounds awesome. ps. would you mind if I posted this conversation on my blog? Shawn: go for it... just make me look better than I am Me: i'll do my best, but it's like trying to improve on some exquisite piece of art... like michaelangelo's 'David'. Shawn: that's not too hard to do... just give it a bigger dong or put clothes on him... either way Me: good chatting. as always. my life is full of fantastic people. Shawn: agreed. you're life is full of fantastic people, as is mine Me: everything's so slack... everything but you... Shawn: well said, my friend... well said Me: a little GP never hurt anyone. Shawn: never Me: adios, man. Shawn: bye

The Myth of the Cloak: anonymity vs transparency

2008-11-07T16:14:00.000-05:00

For a long time, people have been saying that the internet would change everything - and it has. It really really has. In the last 20 years, connectivity between individuals has increased exponentially. The online forum for interaction has opened an infinite number of possibilities on an equally limitless number of stages: Online gaming, online shopping, online voting - heck, I just saw a billboard on the side of the road saying "report crime - online”. The internet is easily the single most influential network that humanity has ever seen. Our world is undergoing a radical grassroots shift, and we're making it up as we go.
From my perspective, I see that the worlds exploding online are challenging and redefining our concepts of the world we live in. The lines between the virtual world and the ‘real’ world are smudged and growing more faint. Our web -personas are blurring into our ‘real’ world personalities, and the events occurring in online universe are affecting life in the ‘real world’. In the midst of this technological supernova, I'm seeing elusive bits of something, subtle clues that point to a gradual shift in the formation of our identities.
I believe that part of the lure of online interaction is the ability to become whomever you want to be. Blanket anonymity can be incredibly empowering, and it is remarkably easy to construct an identity that can be as close or as far from 'reality' as you, the user, chooses. It is in the process of building a personality that we reveal to the world what is within us.
When we hide behind the anonymity that the internet affords us, we actually reveal who we really want to be and who we secretly are. When we are allowed to choose how we present ourselves, we end up revealing enormous amounts of information to anyone who sees us. Therein lies the beauty of online life; this is the allure of the anonymity found on the contoured landscape of the internet. The 'cloak of anonymity' isn't a cloak at all; it's a gateway into the soul.
When you have nothing to hide, when you live in a constant state of openness without the fear of reprisal, you live in freedom. You are empowered to be who you really are. Is this why the worlds opening up in cyberspace are being populated so quickly? Perhaps there is a sense of identity cultured in a multiplayer game. Perhaps the openness you can live with online cuts a sharp contrast to the lives full of charades and expectations and interpersonal walls that many of us slog through daily.
15 year old Brandon Crips from Ontario disappeared after his parents confiscated his XBOX 360 because of the inordinate amounts of time he spent playing Call of Duty 4 online. Perhaps the scariest thing about the story is that it was after the boy disappeared that the parents realized just how devastating their well-intentioned actions were for their teenage son. The scope of his online life was staggering: there were 200 contacts Brandon had gained through internet gameplay - and Brandon had been sharply removed from what had become his only social outlet. Whatever you think about online friendships, losing his entire network of peers all at once crushed Brandon, and he ran from his home never to return.
Obviously, I'm not close to the Brandon Crips situation at all, and I do not want to draw assumptions about either him or his family from a handful of articles scattered across the web. However, it is obvious that Brandon was snared by something in the online game, and whatever it was, it contributed to his eventual disappearance. You don't have to look very far to find other stories at least as sobering and provocative as this one. Dozens of families have been ripped apart because of addictions fostered online.
Whenever I'm reading articles like this one, I typically tune out at this point right here... Yah, yah, the internet's scary and terrible and addictive and - insert your adjective of choice here- , I get it. But honestly, that's not the point. While this situation does suggest certain things and a boy’s life has at best been put in jeopardy, I refuse to put myself in a position of judgement. I will not comment on whether or not blame should be laid at the feet of the online gaming machine.
It is only logical though, that if Brandon's identity had grown and shaped itself around his online game play, it becomes very easy to see just how tattered and shredded his concept of self would be without his game. While this situation is an anomaly, it serves as an exclamation mark on the growing situation of the blank canvas of online interaction as a central factor in the development of teen identity. What does this mean? Parts of me think that we won’t be able to see the full ramifications of this current trend until it plays itself out.
I do suspect that we’re going to see a ‘polarization’ in the agencies and organizations dealing with youth; I think that some agencies, unable to adjust or adapt their methods of reaching the growing number of web-centric youth, will fold. The agencies that do succeed in finding new ways of reaching this new generation will experience impressive growth.
Most of me, though, is not sure. I start getting confused when I try to figure out what’s going to happen. I delve deeper into this subject and it feels bottomless; there are so many factors that come to bear in this discussion.

Somebody smarter than me should do a study on this…

the cafeteria

2008-11-04T00:39:00.000-05:00

Chicken and rice and brewing tea and sawdust were fantastic and delicious smells layering into one another in the clattering din and frenzy of the lunchroom. Tin plates rattled on the rough planked lunch tables and sounds from a dozen conversations around the room mashed together. In the cacophony, packs of little boys dashed, balancing tin plates heaped high with food, dodging little girls bunched and giggling and squealing. The only grown ups in sight were in the kitchen, behind the counter. They had bulging tummies and stringy thin hair, and the cooking fires flushed their faces red and dotted them with beads of sweat. More sweaty adults frantically spooned scoops of stew onto plates shoved at them while the queue of children waiting for their food chattered loudly.

dammit, we need direction!

2008-11-03T23:54:00.000-05:00

I've been doing so much thinking lately; I spend a lot of time reading blogs online, listening to podcasts, writing fiction, and reflecting. I know that i have a lot of opinions and thoughts, but it feels so empty to just have them and not say something about what I believe. That being said, I've come to the conclusion that i need to be more intentional about developing my voice.

so, I've decided to ramp up the blogging - there'll be a lot more in the future. I also want to bring my creative thinking to bear in order to offer a more diverse presentation. That's code for 'I want to do something else cool, but I haven't thought of it yet." A blog is a perfect forum for sharpening my communication skills, but it's also at the mercy of my whim.

Unfortunately, the artist psyche often carries with it certain tendencies towards, um, relaxed commitment. I will grapple with this monster in order to bring to the readership (basically myself) a well thought and insightful commentary on the subject matter that I encounter.

my black

2008-11-02T20:25:00.000-05:00

my black is sweet
lovely silent refuge from
scathing screaming light
from haunting pricking dreams
of running on freewheeling beaches
of standing on pinnacles
while windswept worlds
sprawl below.
My wakefulness is my retreat
into merciful dark
into my cool walled escape
into my dark barred comfort
I soothe my dreamy weary head
against cold lattice:
my steel cage
keeping it all at bay.

half a conversation, part 2

2008-10-23T22:54:00.000-04:00

It's interesting that you mention Brother Lawrence and his book/collection of letters. I actually had to buy it for school a couple years ago, and i just started reading it again after posting yesterday. I also have a few Frank Laubach books... maybe i'll find those as well. I think I've had tiny glimpses of what it means to see God in everything - but like you said, Steve, it is hard. It's cutting against a grain that's been 23 years in the making...

I think that this whole concept is one of the things that makes our faith journey so unique in terms of other religions/belief structures around the world. Rather than withdrawing from life in search of enlightenment, I think that true Christianity involves completely engaging in every activity - all for the sake of maximum exposure to God's presence.

Being willing to see God in everything is almost a threatening idea. the truth is, it's easier for me to live 'life as usual' when I choose to believe that God isn't in the daily grind. If my frustration with other rush hour drivers or my devotion to my sports team or what I do with my empty Starbucks cup is devoid of 'spiritual' implication, then i am free to live an unexamined life. But the reality is that the more I open my eyes to His presence in every mundane 'insignificant' sector of my life, the more He can change me. And I'm all for change!!

BUT.
But. but. but. I hate doing hard stuff, I'll admit it - without shame. Ok, maybe a little bit of shame... I'm thinking that I really need all this 'Spaces' stuff.

Honest self-reflection kills me every time.

half a conversation, part 1

2008-10-23T22:52:00.000-04:00

I have to say, I love the concept of 'faith your practice', but it's hard to think about this morning. ie:

- I just hung up with my cell phone provider; Bell Mobility's 3 year grip on my life is only 3 months in and I'm already frustrated. Apparently, Sirius Satellite Radio is not compatible the my HTC Touch, even though I'm paying for it. Nobody told me that when I bought the phone! Aargh!
- And my house is messy.
- And I don't have any clean socks right now.
- And my shirt doesn't match my pants.
- And it feels like unpacking after a move should probably be one of the first 'rings' of hell (see dante's inferno).
- And there are lots of other things going on that I don't really want to post on a public discussion forum.

There's a ton of stuff that could make this day miserable - and it's only 11:30 am.

Faithing my practice is no shining 'glory road' paved with insight and slick spirituality. It's dirty and oh so real.

the end

2008-09-22T12:05:00.000-04:00

So, for the first time ever, I am holding in my hands a journal that is packed full. Absolutely spine-bustin' full. I'm so damn proud of this thing; it chronicles my life for the past nine months. And it's full.

It's over.

In the wake of the 3 Day Novel Contest

2008-09-03T12:09:00.000-04:00

Oh man. So, this morning I ws journaling about the 3 Day Novel thang (see previous post). Here's what I wrote:

Entry #108 - September 3, 2008

...I still feel as though I didn't write it (the story). As my wife suggested, I feel less like a writer and more like a scribe. Scribes are only valuable or needed because they write down what someone else says. The greater the scribes ability to record exactly and accurately what he/she is told, the more they are used. I feel like a scribe for God. Which is humbling, cause I'm not really needed for the process. Anyone could be the scribe. That makes me glad right now, it sort of helps me understand the "Why Write?" question...

In addition, I feel like this experience opened a new window into God. It pushed me to a new level of understainding. through the contest and my 'scribing', I feel as though i met God in a new and profoundly intimate place.

Even now, I'm still reeling, wandering through an ethereal mental state. It was though my writing desk was set up in God's presence and I want to always be writing because I always want to sense Him in me. I can still feel the shadowy remnants of that special experience of Him adhering to my soul. His presence is still in me and its unreal.

re: 3 Day Novel Contest

2008-09-03T11:46:00.000-04:00

Wow. The 31st Annual Three Day Novel Contest is now over. I'd been thinking towards it for weeks previous: I had plans, plot ideas and a strong grasp on a promising character. Then I decided the day before the contest began to throw it all away and do this thang blind.

I'm so glad.

The contest officially opened at 12:01 am Saturday morning; my plan was to crash at 6-ish friday night, wake up for 11: 30, shower then start writing. I definitely slept 'til 4:30 am. Crap. Oh well. I started writing, based off an image in my head and the words kept flowing. The next three days were one of the most ethereal experiences I've ever had. I wrote and wrote and wrote; by Monday at 4:30 pm I had 90 pages, 19000 words, and one of the most unexpected stories I've every written.

Unbelievable. And the craziest thing about it all is that I feel like I didn't write a word of it. I put my pen to the paper and followed the pictures in my mind. During the whole time, there was a part of my brain that just sat back and watched the words and phrases scrawl across the pages.

When it was all over, I was shocked/amazed/stunned. As I re-read the last bits of the story aloud to my wife, an upswell of emotion rocked me and I started to weep. Embedded in this story that I 'wrote' were themes and concepts and currents of meaning that I could not have produced on my own.

Let me recount another very odd experience that I believe is related to all of this. In my most recent semester at Bible College, a prof led the class through a spiritual practice that she called 'imaginite reading'. I was pretty skeptical and thought, 'ah, what the hell... I'll humour her." She began to read the story of Jesus and Peter on the beach, after Jesus has resurrected (John 21).
Over a back drop of ambient seaside noise, she instructed us to listen to her reading and imagine ourselves on the beach.

I kid you not - I'm a skeptical of this stuff as they come - I closed my eyes and I was there. Jesus was standing in front of me, asking "Josh, do you love me." I desperately wanted to say yes, but all of the things I'd ever done wrong rushed to my mind. I had to respond that I didn't deserve to answer yes. Without missing a beat, jesus answered, "Tell my story." I knew immediately what he meant.

Jesus wasn't telling me to go through the world telling people about him (that is a noble calling, but it's not mine), he was telling me that he would put stories in my head, and I was to write them down.

Sort of puts a new spin on my whole 3 Day Novel experience eh?

July 28

2008-07-28T14:08:00.001-04:00

I'm really excited to be involved in IFTF's newest ARG (alternate reality game) called Superstruct... starting september 09. I discovered it through a blog that I subscribe to, Avantgame. The realm of ARG's can be remarkable intricate, though always fascinating. Do some research! You'll love it.

Josh

Entry #13

2008-07-21T22:55:00.001-04:00

"7:13 am. The homey atmosphere of Starbucks... it's definitely worming its way up my list of favourite places to be." For a few moments, the pen lifted off the page. A wedding band flashed as the writer rubbed his hair flat. Propping his chin with a closed fist, he turned his face to the sun, absently considering the row of vehicles parked just a few feet away from his window.
He bit deep into an apple and munched thoughtfully. After a quick pause, he picked up the pen and again began to write. "Sometimes, I wonder about that. Maybe a coffee shop is a lame place to hang out alone. I mean this morning I spent a full five minutes talking with the barista about the best techniques for making great foam!" - another quick bite of apple and mouthful of vanilla-hazelnut latte- "I mean I'm not ashamed of it... I just remember making fun of people like me, back in my construction days, when I lived and died by an extra large triple triple from Timmy's."
The writer paused once more, surveying the coffee shop; most patron's were huddled in conversation in groups twos and threes. Not many were alone like him. His pen trailed ink in the lined journal once more.
"Maybe Starbucks works to be a gathering place, a place of community, even for those people who are alone. Starbucks is a community -centred organization..." As the writer continued, he could help but be distracted by the shadow of his pen leaping up off the page before touching down again as he began his next word. He mocked himself inside before continuing.
"7:34. I've been writing for exactly 21 minutes. Am I wasting my time?"

Entry #86

2008-07-21T18:16:00.000-04:00

"Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sin." The cathedral boomed responsive echoes."Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sin. Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin!"

Thunderous and terrible, the Holy Vicar's words thrummed into the minds of every man standing at rapt attention. No one dared move or shift slightly or blink - the Holy Vicar, consumed by his religious fervour, was both harsh and exacting. "Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sin!"

The gathered crowd of men received this sinister sermon. It was always this, always this repetition of doom and bloodshed. It bordered on otherworldly: dim candle lit hall quaking with the Holy Vicar's message, always about blood and forgiveness and one's necessity for the other's existence. Every week, stoic men gathered, soldiers and temple guards, unflinching beneath the Holy Vicar's relentless tirade.

"Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin! Without the shedding of blood there is NO FORGIVENESS OF SIN!" Those last words thudded home, churning within each listenere. This final refrain echoed, fragments rebounding high off of ancient stone arches.

The Holy Vicar blinked slowly, solemnly. Pages of the book before him whispered as he closed the massive tome and held it to his chest with withered hands. The men silently waited for the closing benediction. The Vicar stood, holding the book to his breast and glaring out over his followers. There was sin here: pulsing oozing black wickedness. There was purging in the days ahead. Yes, the vicar nodded to himself, there would be a cleansing for these faithless ones. He spoke one more word, his voice deep and gravelly.
"Amen."

In silence, the gathered men dispersed, holding their thoughts close. In many of the men, words still hung in their consciousness. shedding of blood. forgiveness. sin. They ran together in chaotic juxtaposition but they always landed on the Holy Vicar, the Bringer of God's Justice, the Administrator of Blessing.

Holy Vicar watched the men closely. They quivered under his rolling gaze, shaking with fear or love - or both. They were right to be gripped with fear. God's Appointed deserved the respect and cautious treatment that such emotion inspired.

The last man had left the cathedral. Holy Vicar moved with slow reverence, breathing a prayer and lighting incense burners. As the incense smouldered in the brass dishes and blue smoke curled heavenward, Holy Vicar knelt. In the hush, his whisper magnified hoarsely. "Almighty God, forgive me my many sins." The syllables lifted with the incense, filling the vaulted ceiling then fading. Deep quiet settled once more in the near empty chamber.

Holy Vicar raised his arms, the richly embroidered sleeves of his robes falling back to reveal criss-crossing scars. "Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin." As the words passed out of his mouth, the bowed man dropped a scarred arm into the folds of his robe. He whispered again "Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sin." His hand emerged from within his robe clutching a dagger. He raised his arm once more, veins standing out thickly. This time, Holy Vicar shouted and brought the dagger in sweeping motion across the other arm. "WITHOUT THE SHEDDING OF BLOOD THERE IS NO FORGIVENESS OF SINS!"

Shuddering with the pain and consumed with fervour, the Holy Vicar bowed low, blood pooling under his left palm, draining from a deep gash in his forearm. He whispered again, "Almighty God, forgive me my many sins." In the darkened room, the only sounds were the heavy breaths from the Holy Vicar and a steady drip drip drip of spilt blood.

andrew in the morning

2008-07-21T18:06:00.001-04:00

The phone was ringing. The bed was warm and the thought of movement was an unfriendly one indeed. The phone was ringing. Cool air from the window overhead heightened the comfort of this bed. Mmmmmm. It felt so good to streeeeetch. The phone was ringing.

Dammit! The phone was ringing.

Andrew sprang from the bed, his left foot tangling in the tousled covers while the rest of his body crashed to the floor. The phone was ringing. Andrew forced himself up out of the tossed comic books and discarded gaming mags, lurching towards the phone.

"mgh-ello?" Morning voice. Andrew cleared his throat.

Re: melody2piano

2008-07-21T17:00:00.000-04:00

Hey Everyone! Check out this sweet sweetness (Oh, you're not into that?)... No Seriously, though Melody2Piano is a cool blogger. Check out what she wrote: Watching Everyone Else Flying

the development of The Question

2008-07-21T16:12:00.000-04:00

While reading 'Ender's Game' by Orson Scott Card, I was struck by how each of the main characters (Ender, Valentine, and Peter) responded to their abilities and power differently. Ender cultivated a sense of resentment towards the administration and Cause that led him to use his skill set towards a certain end. He eventually brought himself to a place where he preferred not having power.

Valentine allowed herself (and her power) to be manipulated according to the will of her older brother Peter. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew exactly how her actions would support the intentions of the dark-minded Peter.

Peter unashamedly used his power to further his own interests. Selfish ambition - pure and simple. He used his ability to discern what people are most afraid of in order to create a culture that would look to himself for guidance. And, he succeeded!

Anyhow, after reading this (AMAZING!) book, I saw all the more clearly the important role of responsibility and maturity in managing my skillset. I suddenly experienced an intense and soul-heavy burden.

I know that books change the way people think. They change the way we look at ourselves and at the world. When people read books, they open themselves up to the ideals and notions of the writer. Even as I type this out, I am aware again of the 'power' that an author carries - the influence she or he exerts over the readers. I'm afraid to just empty my talent and efforts into a vacuum, without purpose or intent.

So then, Why Should I Write? What is the calling that echoes in my heart? Why Write? Honestly, this 'writer's calling' idea strikes me very close to home. I want it. I am pursuing it, uncovering it inside me. I feel like it is a hidden heirloom in a cluttered attic. I sense it there, just out of reach, awaiting my efforts to find it and hear what it would speak to me. For now though, this question burns in my mind:

"Joshua Gordon, why do you write?"

yet another reason why my wife is so great...

2008-07-21T15:48:00.000-04:00

I've recently started reading a few new books (i've got about 5 on the go right now), and I'm feeling a little over whelmed by the amount of awesome writing I've come across. I was just reading 'Charades' by Janette Hospital Turner and I remember thinking, Holy Shit. This is such good writing. It is so much better than my writing.
Then suddenly, I got all intimidated. It was really hard to pick up my pen and write. I get so easily discouraged sometimes. Anyway, Sarah and I had a chat about it (she always brings a wicked point of view) and she had some interesting responses to what I was feeling. She actually commented that I was super talented, but she thought that maybe I just needed 'coaching'. She drew a comparision between any other skill (ie: her playing violin) and how people take lessons. If she had just picked up her violin and started playing it, she might have started to sound alright, but her self taught style would be rife with bad habits. I thought to myself, Hey, that's insightful.
I don't know why I always expect myself to be perfect - I've only been serious about my writing for a year or so. Anyway, I asked my small group to pray that I'd come across someone who could mentor me as a writer: someone I really respect, but someone who will let me be me while bringing out my best.
I always get a great opinion from Sarah. I love it when she talks; her input is always insightful and sensitive. She's such a great blance for my artistically heavy mindset. Her comments consistently resonate with me - not an easy task when I get so easily discouraged and childishly defensive when it comes to my writing.

She be so great.

one of my favourite places to dream of...

2008-07-21T15:30:00.000-04:00

Deep forests have always held an aura of both grandeur and seclusion. I love imagining being in the bush, just me and the trees and the wind. I remember seeing a picture as a child that really impacted me. For some reason, it's still in my head 15+ years later. It was of a small girl standing in ferns that grew up to her waist; trees towered high above her and she was totally alone.

If I were to describe my 'ideal' forest, it would be this:

"Shifting puddles of sunlight flicker, playing hide and seek with one another amid low lying ferns and scattered clumps of underbrush. Large boulders force up through the rich soil, mottled grey shoulders of granite shot through with traces of pink.
Overhead, lofty leafy crowns stretch and crane as winds toy through the vivid green foliage: towering deciduous trees. They silently oversee the slight breezes swirling across the forest floor, chasing leaves that skitter just out of reach. "

This place is simultaneiously a place of intimate closeness and large scale wonder. I feel an organic kinship with the forest ecosystem. Something deep inside me sighs- a part of me comes to life. this place is a home for my soul. The stillness of a forest will always work its way into my heart, if I let it. there is beauty in that quiet that refracts through me to light up my innermost being.

my pain

2008-07-21T15:25:00.001-04:00

At first, there was only blackness; inky dark perforated with splashes of pain. I groped for anything to hold to. Disorientation and waves of nausea rocked me as I struggled to comprehend my surroundings. My blind efforts to secure some sense of awareness exhausted me. i gave up. And lay still.

For what seemed like hours.

Until I awoke again.

Despite the same hammering black, I could tell I lay in something cool and sticky and damp. Flashes of white agony shot up my arms as I forced my self to sit up. I could just make out my had in front of my face; slowly dimness was growing to light. holdy my enjured arms close, i pushed backward with my legs till I felt something at my back. I rested against it.
The dim light filtered down to me, diluted through heavy mist and laden with the rich smell of mud rotting vegetation. The world flickered black once more and I slumped sideways.

Are You Ready for This Adventure?

2008-07-21T15:01:00.000-04:00

So the other day I was thinking about my love affair with stories. Nothing worms its way into me like a great story can. I wrote the following in my journal a while ago; I stumbled over it while re reading entries.

Story is dangerous; it moves inside me, with an inherent power to restructure. A truly good story always makes me feel more alive - more truly myself. A great story can lay open deep seated needs, often inspiring startlingly honest emotional responses. Good stories give me a glimpse of what I could become when i am most human.

Yah. I remember reading 'The Book of the Dun Cow' by Walter Wangerin and being completely blown away. It was amazing. Incredible. To me, at that moment, it represented everything I love about story and everything I want my writing to be. It's skilfull and deep themes are woven throughout - not necessarily observable at first glance. But if you're careful, you can spot them and their sacred meanings moving about subtly in the shadows.

Aaagh! It's so cool! Words are so powerful - whether finely crafted into exquisitely wrought poetry or firmly set into the strong plain settings of ancient lore.

Aaanyways, as I was saying, I was thinking about all of this (see above) when I wondered how to pass on or convey it to my kids (which have yet to be conceived). I decided that everytime I would read them a story or watch a movie with them, I would say "Are you ready for this adventure?"

So, I ask you? Are YOU ready for this adventure?