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rain does not make a lot of sense.
it rarely comes when we need it. and, it’s almost always certain to appear when most inconvenient.
that makes rain rather like surprises.
I hate rain. and, naturally, I love rain.
rain is bad. rain is good.
I prefer to run in the rain; a down pour, please.
that might be where pain meets ecstasy.
perhaps rain, like most things, is what we make of it.
so, I’m listening to U2 and Running to Stand Still.
me? I’m running to the light.
peace be to my brothers and sisters.
brian patrick cork
God gives us wives because it pleases Him to do so. Then, and in turn, it’s our role to please those wives. However, there is no rule that requires them to be pleased with our “Servant Hearts”, tilting of windmills, or slaying of dragons. Indeed, behind every great man there is likely some woman rolling her eyes.
To wit… A recent email exchange between Joanne and myself:
On Sep 26, 2010, at 9:33 AM, brian patrick cork wrote:
“With your clearance, I’d like to take your Cayenne and have it cleaned Wednesday.
I’m not trying to be a servant. Although it’s not lost on me this might please you. But, rather, this action, not un-entirely heroic, is simply in-keeping with the shallowness of my personnae. To wit, I’m electing to put on airs for Jeanette and Chris’s trip. /1 And, in effect, I suspect this will, at some level, please you as well. Because we both know it will make everyone all the more comfortable.
On Sep 26, 2010, at 11:17 AM, Joanne Cork wrote:
Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
Brian Patrick Cork
1/ Jeanette is my sister-in-law. And, thusly, Chris is her (Jeanette’s) own white knight.
love and hate.
or, love and hatred.
they represent genuine extremes, I think.
as an aside… we’ve witnessed; and unfortunately, some of you have lived – “love hate” relationships.
but, some people love to hate. we assign that to terrorists, for example. other folks might submit they hate to love.
“there’s nothing in this world so sweet as love. and next to love the sweetest thing is hate.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I’m intently considering my keyboard, and thinking love is an elixir, whereas hatred is fuel. however, both can be the foundation for a cause. and, a result of a cause, I suppose.
apparently there exists, some where, but I don’t, in truth, care precisely where, a study using a brain scanner to investigate the neural circuits that become active when people look at a photograph of someone they say they hate has found that the “hate circuit” shares something in common with the “love circuit”.
I’m thinking the opposite of love is not hate. however, it could be indifference. but, we’re trying not to introduce other words, here. on the other hand, indifference is not the same result if you say: the opposite of hate is not love. the meaning, if not the entire context changes, and radically.
what the hell, I’ll add an aside, here. me? I’ll fear indifference long before hate, and certainly love. indifference might suggest the loss of hope. And, maybe that’s the key to strapping on a vest stuffed with dynamite, or losing the will to love. love might take more courage and effort than hate, after all.
these words, and their application, might represent an important battlefield. the on-going war that rages (now, that’s an interesting word relative to this line-of-thinking) between these emotions is relentless. we seem to have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another, unflinchingly. it’s more likely that love will turn, and viciously, into seething hatred, and not so likely that hate will transform itself into love. if someone were to say: ‘I hate loving”, it’s sad, but that is more easy to relate to than: “I love hating”, which almost sounds like a chest-thumping cause for action, or call-to-action.
hate is often considered to be an evil passion that should, in a better world, be tamed, controlled and eradicated. yet, I think were you a biologist, hate is a passion that is of equal interest to love.
like love, hate is often seemingly irrational, and can lead individuals to both heroic and evil deeds. this fascinates me. how can two opposite sentiments lead to the same behavior?
perhaps that line-of-thinking led Ella Wilcox to say: “love lights more fire than hate extinguishes.”
I can’t say I agree with that. for example, love is often viewed as given, whereas is hatred is acquired. but, we can demonstrate how hatred is ladled-out carefully and becomes so much more powerful over time. if someone handed a terrorist (we really do leverage that term liberally, don’t we) a flower, they would likely shove up the givers butt, or grind it into dust and mix it with weed-killer and craftily introduce it into their coca-cola. having said that, perhaps the makers of coca-cola are actually terrorists of a sort because soft drinks are, indeed poison, and slowly killing a large portion of the worlds population. too many people say: “I love coca-cola”, and not enough say: “I hate coca-cola”. but, I digress (although shareholders of coca-cola enterprises love to make money, and certainly don’t hate it).
me? as I continue to explore the complexities of living the authentic life, I’m more likely to try and love, in general. or, at least care. this is where indifference creeps back into the thinking. I’m not sure you can win once love is part of the equation because many lines become blurred and the self can be lost. but, nobody actually wins where hate evolves. that’s a kobayashi maru. I’ll submit once indifference corrupts the soul, there exists hatreds foothold. and, I’ll often try to encourage my fourteen year old daughter to try, and hard, not to even use the word hate in a sentence – especially relative to people, and also inanimate objects (like new cellular telephones) – but more so, then, from a common-sensical standpoint. I also want her to be careful about dispensing and leveraging the word love. there is that tipping-point, after-all.
it all requires a lot of thinking and consideration. a cause, if you will, for that winnie-the-Pooh figgerin’ spot.
peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
Brian Patrick Cork
Last week – let’s pin this on Monday – Haley Anne was still thirteen. Long legs, almond-eyed, and a fury on the soccer pitch. I’ll add adored by her Daddy, for good measure. But, that’s hardly news to the loyal followers of this Blog.
Haley Anne has always been wired for independence. She was never likely to hurl herself off of a four-story roof top with a home made parachute like I did at ten. But, she has her own mind and the steely resolve to realize it. She’s been a handful lately getting the sense of herself with all the trials-and-tribulations that come with being a teenage girl in the savage hallways of Middle School. All-in-all I’m quite pleased with her. Joanne takes the brunt and the heat of Haley Anne’s hormone-drenched temperament, while I still have more opportunities than not to be the hero. But, I’m navigating dark waters on any given day.
Mondays… They loom over us don’t they? Whereas Tuesdays are best for police raids, it’s Mondays that herald a week full of opportunity. …This includes life’s unexpected lessons.
Last Monday was the first day of the new school year and Haley Anne is now in the eighth grade. Middle school is tough, and the girls that are found in the halls are often colorful enough to put a New York City Vice Squad on edge. Haley Anne arrived safely home (she actually enjoys the bus) and was full of war stories. Most of them are of middling consequence, to me, any way – and, to yourselves, naturally. And, I was probably more focused on the evening’s soccer practice, and being content with the fact that her dress was evidently well regarded, her classes found without adventure, and her lunch crowd cordial.
We’ll step lively forward with this tale, acknowledging only that the above preamble is insufficient to signal the change of life that has forever altered my own world view. …That aforementioned, and unexpected, life lesson.
Dinner was a quick bite of lasagna before we were off to practice. That went swell as usual. Then home to a few quick emails and bed. Sleep comes fast in my head. The pillow and a death-like coma are quick and easy friends, for me.
But… With her uncanny ability to unhinge me from any deep sleep Joanne shoved my shoulder later that evening with a curt:
“you need to read this”.
What I heard in Joanne’s voice was a mixture of bemused angst (its possible, and Joanne, being English has it perfected). I wasn’t expecting a foreclosure notice or ransom note so I was a bit slow to pull myself together for thought leadership. However glowing in the dark, and hovering in front of my face was Haley Anne’s iPhone (I knew this because mine is an iPhone 4, while Haley Anne’s is a 3G, and emma Jo’s 3G [minus SIMs Card] has a crack in the screen). All this quickly spun out of my head as I was shocked into alertness by the message:
“I LOve You. Let’s get back together”.
I’m not sure if it was adrenalin, fear, anger, numbing shock, or unrepentent outrage that surged through my body like spinach might Pop-eye from the old cartoons. But, I must have read the message ten times before I simply asked Joanne:
“who the hell sent that to Haley Anne?”
The simple response was:
“_____ – the kid from summer”.
So… Here’s the abbreviated background scenario…
Many of Haley Anne’s friends are involved in some form or another with “boyfriends”. In our household, the rule is NO BOYFRIENDS until our daughters are fifteen years of age. None. That’s it. And, that means the stuff that goes along with boyfriends. Any of it. Period. Haley Anne apparently caught the eye of this young fellow last year, and he launched a deluge of texts at her all summer. Joanne had a series of talks with Haley Anne that I won’t burden you with. But, we were satisfied that Haley Anne understood the rules and we have a clear and binding covenant in our family. I trust my daughter. And, I’m developing trust and faith in her judgment. I’m training her to be a leader in both her thinking and actions.
All along the way, I’m also being trained by my daughters, and life, as seen through their eyes, to be more open-minded and open-hearted.
I drove Haley Anne to school the next day. I asked her along the way if she wanted to talk to me about “_____”. She paused before answering barely enough to gather her breath because she’s a quick thinker, and wit, that one.
“he’s only a friend Daddy. I know what I want; and, it’s not a boyfriend. I just like having a lot of great friends.”
That helped me. And, reaffirmed Haley Anne has her wits about me – or, is a brilliant actress. I’ll submit there is all that afoot. But, here is how I’m handling this matter:
“I love you with all my heart, and I’m more proud of you you each and every day. There is a lot of change afoot. And, I need your help. If you ever think you know what love is, or start to have feelings for some lucky lad, I want you to try something… In fact, let’s give it a go this week… Find a poem that you think and feel is about love. You can’t be wrong. Just try. Just like in football (soccer) – give it your best. You can never disappoint me with effort. It’s all about interpretation. All I really care about is your opinion, your thinking, and your feelings. You can write the poem if you want to. The only rule is that it has to be something you would be willing to read and give to a person you think you love. That might be a test that you are ready to share your heart with someone other than me.”
My voice cracked, just a bit. So, she knew where all of this was coming from.
She was quiet. And, looked at me. I got the simple, slow, gentle nod with the far away look behind the eyes.
I love being a Dad. And, I trust my daughter. I’m putting a lot of faith on the line. I feel great. But, I also have the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I have before a big race or other competition.
Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
Brian Patrick Cork
I thought I was really busy. However, while pondering some notes on my Macbook at the kitchen counter I felt a gentle tug on my elbow.
It was my little Emma Jo.
She was still mussy from a good nights sleep. Her face, turned up to me, hopeful, as she made the simple request: “Daddy will you watch Enchanted with me?”
Being me a good number of thoughts ran swiftly through my head. But, God was with me, as usual, and the right words popped out with: “of course, my Love”. “anything”.
Images and memories can be created in the span of a heartbeat. The picture of Emma Jo below is how I’ll likely see her for the rest of my days.
For almost two hours of absolute bliss, I sat downstairs in the basement theatre with Emma Jo snuggled up against me watching what might be one of the best movies ever crafted for Daughters and Daddies. I’ve seen it a dozen times, and will look forward to many, many, many more efforts.
I know a lot of Dads read this Blog. And, I’ll add hope that, regardless of their age, you’ll invite them to watch Enchanted and love the life that only Princesses can be part of.
Peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
Brian Patrick Cork