Life indeed is a lay over.

I've now been in countless airports. Sitting in wait at countless terminals and most often waiting at countless lay overs between places. I've played every airport game in the book to not bore myself into some comatose state that leaves me falling asleep on the cold linoleum floor only to be scooped up by airport security and held as a vagrant terrorist using up heaps of airport bureaucracy reserved for other important patrons. Ok it's 2:16 am and I'm starting to hallucinate and not make any sense even to myself.

Now I wanted to be vaguely philosophical to celebrate the name change of my blog so let me at least play at some kind of attempt. Here's my theory in life you are always going somewhere or waiting to go somewhere layed over at some filthy nowhere airport. Now even nowhere lay overs can be part of the adventure... so don't knock it. Also choosing to go nowhere is in a sense going somewhere and that place is in fact "Nowhere." So apathetic behavior does have a result... not really the kind that bears banana's and apples and pears... or any other kind of fruit.... more like raisins or bran... or something else not really fit for human consumption.

Now at the risk of being shot to snot by various commentators I believe that plays out into the spiritual aspect of our lives. Whether we make a choice toward some deity or not we still have to make a choice of some kind. Even if that choice is no choice... sooner or later the lay over of life is going to come to an end and we're going to have to board the plane out of here and hopefully we're on the plane that goes somewhere worth while.

Now I've heard some people say that they don't believe in God or the afterlife... we call them atheists. Well my theory is that atheists are in fact the people who do not exist. See to be an atheist you would need to know absolutely everything beyond all human comprehension. Now if you indeed did have this omniscient knowledge at your fingertips you would be God and if you were God well... Then you couldn't be an atheist could you. So I'd say maybe... just an idea mind you... but maybe at least be humble enough to call yourself an agnostic. At least have an ego small enough to say "Well... I'm not sure..." anyway.... as for me and my house we will serve the lord.... I've got nothing to lose.

Underneath a cosmic blanket.

Underneath a cosmic blanket
Two hearts interweave
Beating out one rhythm.
Two strangers…
…So familiar.

And in the recesses of history and time
Before day and night or human touch
The ancient, eternal artist raises his brush.
Colour twists from golden bristles
Onto the canvas that is life.

Paint dances and stirs
And sings as it floods,
Over the white emptiness.
So careful, so gentle
Each detail causing a
Smile to form on His loving face
From the corners of His mouth
To the dancing light in his eyes.

Swirls of colour waltz,
Playfully spinning on the page
Bone, tendon, sinew, muscle.
The artist’s hand moves swiftly.
Skin, eyes, lips, fingers…
Each part intricate by design.

He looks at his handiwork
Perfect, but wait…
Something is missing
The gentle Father reaches
Into the realms never seen
To a place where inquisitive angels
Wish to gaze, but dare not.

Holy hands find their destination
The beating of a heart beyond portrayal.
He inhales and tenses as He tares a tiny portion.
A single drop of blood falls out on the eternal
And into the realm of men from the hand of His son.

But in the artist’s studio creation persists.
Tenderly He places His heart’s portion
Into this man.
One in His likeness.

Yahweh-breath pours forth life.
And a drum pulsates in rhythm
As lifeblood runs its course.
A river meandering through vein and artery.

He looks at His handiwork
Perfect, but wait…
Something is missing.
Complete, but incomplete.
Flawless, but lacking.
“It is not good for this one to be alone.”

The Father reaches again to His heart,
But this time, to that beating portion…
Within the man.
Gently, cautiously He tears a smaller piece…
Leaving a small scar and an empty space.

A hiding place is needed for such a treasure.
The master turns to a favorite project.
A seemingly insignificant lump of clay.
But to these gentle calloused hands…
Unlimited potential for un-thought of beauty.

Devine fingers mold and pinch
Twist and form, shape and model.
Intense concentration and care
With each fashioned element.
Bone, tendon, sinew, muscle.
The artist’s hands move swiftly.
Skin, eyes, lips, fingers…
Each part intricate by design.

Standing back He marvels,
She is beautiful.
Every curve, every line
Every detail of her very soul
Glows in a God-given
Transcendent elegance.

The perfect hiding place for a treasure.
Delicately He pushes heart to clay
And seals it in it’s place.
He lowers His mouth to hers
And breathes forth life.


Two portions of one piece beat
In the chests of two separate beings.
They long to be united…

Not yet…

And awesome story begins
Back in the realm of men.
A boy is born
And then a girl.
And in their tiny chests
A priceless treasure.
Two parts of one heart quietly beat.

Not yet…

And as they grow, so too does a longing.
A desire for something missing.
They both love the artist.
And feel the beat of his heart.
They also feel guilty for wanting more.

Their Father gently smiles,
As they complicate the simple.
He knows their need.
He put it there.
Not only so that these two may
Know each other,
But so that they may get to
Know the artist through
The treasure in one another.
The piece of God the other needs.

And they search this lonely globe
Looking in all the wrong places
Touching all the wrong faces.
They cling to things not meant to be.
They run after other people’s treasures.

When all seems lost
And all hope is gone.
God faces them to their true north.
An unexpected gift at an unexpected time.
Two hearts like homing beacons call the other.

Now…
The time has come, the moment imminent…

In the unseen world of God,
Beyond the conscious mind,
In places formed before time
Two hearts beat.
The portion in her
Recognizes him
The portion in him knows her.
They are part of each other.

And in the physical world…
Underneath a cosmic blanket
Two hearts interweave
Beating out one rhythm.
Two strangers…
…So familiar.

Copyright 2005 © Clint Botha