I am a Time Traveler!

I have mastered the physics! So far I can travel forward in time at 60 seconds/minute! I have worked out the illusion of faster, and slower, forward time travel as well. But I'm still stumped on going back in time. I know that's where the big money will be waiting.

Conventional wisdom claims that time is money. Jim Croce sang about time in a bottle. And if I believe the Rolling Stones, time is on my side. In my experience, however, time is not money, you can't get time in a bottle, and time is not on my side! In fact, it seems to be working against me more each day.

I am, by nature, an extremely goal-oriented person. This characteristic sets me up to routinely miss the journey, as it is said, on the way to the destination. Being goal oriented is of itself not evil. However, in my case, it is undoubtedly unbalanced. It is a continuous struggle to keep my “to-do” list from ruling my life. I suspect others have the same difficulty.

So, what is the point of my little ramble here? Maybe it is to remind myself of the permanence of past time and the uncertainty of future time. Ultimately, for every minute that ticks by, we get to choose how to spend it. Actually, we have to choose how to spend it. There is no such thing as saving time. Unfortunately, there is a lot of “everything else” that simply takes up our time.

I want to encourage everyone to intentionally spend their time on things that will have a lasting value. Choose wisely. Don't waste time trying to go back in time, but intentionally value the time of now.

With that resolved, where would you want to go if you could get a free time machine ticket into the past?

Gepetka, Prince of Gypsies

B-O-O-M!

The sound of the battering ram reverberated deep into the chest of the sleeping Gypsy. He sat bolt upright in a cold sweat with breath coming in short gasps and heart pounding in his chest. Gepetka's mind raced as he anticipated the second hit. It never came.

---

There have always been those whose sense of home is not rooted to a particular place, people whose allegiance is not devoted to a banner. They are their own community, with a sense of purpose that is not fettered to the expectations of their neighbors.

They are true sojourners in life.

They are completely unpredictable.

They are Gypsies … and they are full of surprises.

Gepetka, Prince of Gypsies - the third book in the Kingdom of the Falcon series.

Coming: May 2015

Getting in Touch with Your Inner Village Idiot

Rash words seem to plague our dialog. Other than taking a vow of silence, resistance seems futile. Besides that, a vow of silence is way too easy to break. Go figure.

It seems to me that promises we make fall into three broad categories. The solemn vow, the random promise, and the pinky promise. It would stand to reason that those promises are fulfilled in the order which they are listed. I'm not so sure that is the case. A poorly thought out promise can push one across the fine line between inspiration and affliction.

Personally, I want to avoid afflictions.

A solemn vow can be the ultimate catalyst that motivates an individual to a life of epic greatness. A vow like that is generally taken before a roomful of witnesses and often invokes Divine accountability. I would suggest Mother Theresa as a glowing example of this. Some may find such a vow arduous and would be advised against making such a commitment without deep soul searching.

Then there is the random promise. It is often vocalized without much consideration. Once upon a time a person's word was as good as a contract. Nowadays, that may still be the case, but the contract isn't worth anything either. This is a particularly sad change in our culture.

When we come to the pinky promise, we think of children and silliness. But, search as I might, I can recall no instances of someone breaking a pinky promise. Maybe I'm missing something here.

Which brings me to the point of this post. The mighty New Year's resolution. It can be made with all the solemnity of marital vows, but is rarely fulfilled. It seems to be the low IQ version of a life-vow. Or maybe we are just getting in touch with our inner village idiot when we make such promises. A New Year resolution is generally not attended with any accountability, because it is commonly made to oneself. That annual tradition of speaking before one thinks is generally worn out before February, just for the record.

Still, we are drawn to such self-promises, partly because the new year gives us a clean break from the past. It doesn't really, but it seems that way. I think another reason we inflict ourselves with resolutions is most people recognize their shortcomings and have a desire to improve themselves. That is honorable. Too bad it rarely works.

So, is the problem in the promises we make, or in our commitment to a given lifestyle change? Or, maybe it is in the accountability. Maybe the accountability factor is why pinky promises are more successful than New Year's resolutions. Hmmm.

I don't have great answers here, but time is running out to make New Year's resolutions for 2015. So, if you decide to make a resolution, be sure to pinky promise with someone. Or, I suppose you could think it through carefully. Whichever method you choose, I hope you are able to accomplish it.

That hardly seems fair!

I have this Christmas tradition of hiding gifts for my kids and leaving them a series of cryptic clues as a treasure hunt. On Christmas day when the rest of the western world is celebrating instant gratification by ripping open thinly wrapped gifts … my kids are deciphering clues. It may sound like a cruel trick, but they seem to enjoy it.

The intention was never to cause angst or withhold the fun. In fact, the intention is always to draw out the fun into a longer time span. We tend to be modest on the quantity of gifts we exchange. That fact is driven home each year by the many facebook posts of Christmas trees protruding from gift mountains. But, I digress. Our practice of modest gift exchange is rooted deeply in our family's experiences. I've written enough on that subject in the past.

Each year I have to raise the bar a little higher. My kids and their spouses are all smarter than me, so it has become somewhat of a personal challenge as well. It takes me, on average, eight times as long to make a treasure hunt as it does for them to accomplish it. This year it took them a bit over an hour to find their presents. You can do the math on the preparation time.

This year's hunt included a field trip off the homestead. That was a first. This year we had a couple of relatives along for the ride which was also a first. They readily engaged in the hunt, but they may think we are all crazy by now. Verum, notum est.

The part about the Christmas treasure hunt that brings the most pleasure to me is seeing the kids pooling their cooperative knowledge and wit. It is an exercise that builds the family bond in a fun, low stress way. It also breaks up the predictability of Christmas morning.

So, I have included a picture of their first clue for your pleasure here. You may enjoy it, or you may think I'm a borderline Grinch. The best case scenario is, you may get some fresh ideas for your own family. Who knows, you may have some latent crazy in your system that just needed an outlet.

In all, I am wishing each of you a Merry Christmas. Yes, I know it's the day after, but it should linger if it is real in your heart.

Therefore we must be normal!

My family has been accused of being normal from time to time. I don't recall anyone actually making that accusation of me personally. At our house normal equals dull and that is an insult.

I understand that people who use that term on us do so in innocence. They see us as a family with all adult kids excitedly doing things together. The automatic association is with some iconic 1950's family television show. Hence the association with normal. That is forgivable.

Please allow me to set the record straight.

On Christmas Eve, when normal people are out in droves getting gifts for that hard to buy for person on their list, we are home having Reuben sandwiches and competing in our annual Night Before Christmas poetry contest!

There is deep meaning and symbolism associated with the Reubens. First they are yummy! Second, we like them. Third, it is a fairly easy, fun way to feed a big group without spending a lot of time. Okay, so maybe deep and symbolic were overstatements. We do Reubens because they are fun and easy.

The Night Before Christmas poetry contest, however, is, well, is not really deep either. In fact, it's not a contest at all. And it doesn't have to be poems. We simply set that time as the end of preparation and the beginning of celebrating the birth of our Savior.

I started this tradition several years back, because it was far too easy to fill up all our time with cooking, and baking, and putzing about with random, endless preparations. No more! When the Reubens hit the skillet, the Eagles gather like … well, like vultures. (Now, there's a lovely metaphor!) It is like the bell at the beginning of the prize fight, the shot to start a race, the lines being thrown from the dock to launch the ship … Well, you get the picture.

After we feast on Reuben sandwiches, we crowd into the living room and share our poetic creations. Some of which are not poems at all. Rumor has it, this year will include a fire poi show. (outdoors, of course) Take that on the nose, Normal!

So, for clarity I am including a submission of mine from a couple of years back.

Bethlehem Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas in Bethlehem town, the villagers were clueless to what was going down

Too busy to reach out, unwitting decline, they missed their own meeting with the Divine

That town was abustle with relatives aplenty, the homes were all full the Inns held too many

The town square was packed with travelers from afar, 'Cause for taxes a census was forced by Caesar

The travelers and towns folks with great consternation, were oppressed by the Roman army occupation

Yet one traveler was troubled beyond all the others, a pregnant young girl far from midwife or mother

They'd traveled too far all the lodgings were proffered, a cave hewn from stone was best they were offered

A shelter for cattle 'cause all else was taken, there history was made and creation was shaken

The Word became flesh, reaching out to His own, redemption was offered from God's Holy Throne

Eternal life freely to all has been given, the humble receive, repenting, are forgiven

Some history repeats it is said by the wise, tonight looks like it could be one of those times

Tis the night before Christmas in this little town, so many are clueless to what's going down

Too busy to reach out, unwitting decline, they missed their own meeting with the Divine

- RV Hodge   2012