Dreaming of the Dead

“I don’t want your pity – I just want to remember who I was before this”.

This is one of the final statements made by one of five actors who blessed the stage at the Cultural Project: 45 Bleeker Theater, last night in the East Village [GP:EV]. For 2 hours, I left New York again, for a brief visit to the African Continent, but this time, further south… to the Republic of South Africa, but not in 2006, but over a decade ago, during the tyranny of Apartheid. Amajuba: Like Doves We Rise, written and directed by Edinburgh’s Yael Farber, is the story of 5 South Africans who have grown up in Apartheid, and their lives broken and rebuilt by the tragedies they’ve faced. Through dialogue, dance, song, symbolism and at-times heart-wrenching narrative, their stories are proclaimed with such strength, defiance, and passion.

And what I didn’t know, but only discovered afterwards, the actors were the people they were playing. This wasn’t acting. They were telling their own true life stories. I had felt as if I’d seen more into these people than I have ever looked upon another human being. I’ve never seen such vulnerability, and to know that they have to relive their past, but then be healed from it, day in and day out. It’s an amazing privilege. I was given a message of hope for myself, and while although few of us can say we’ve experienced what a life under Apartheid is like, many of us have suffered greatly in this world. Pain is pain, and healing is healing.

For two hours, the audience of about 100 was held captive under a spell, and remained entranced for the duration of the performance. Light, color, props, beautiful harmonies, noise, pain, sweat (lots of sweat) and soul. That’s what I experienced last night.

I want to urge everyone to see this show. Last night was the beginning of a week of previews and opening night is in a week. You can buy tickets at Ticketmaster. Please contact me if you want a discount code, so you can get $25.00 tickets: http://www.ticketmaster.com/artist/1037571

I was given hope. I thought of my boys out in Kibera, and I hope that one day, they will be able to face the past, and then wash it away, and rise. Rise.

“My past is a broken country – but I am not”


Test This.

Monday, April 3rd, 2006

Testing has begun.

Let’s take a look at a typical testing schedule here:

8:00 AM – No one shows up
8:30AM – Equipment failure
9:00AM – Team shows up.
9:12 AM – Power goes out
9:17 AM – Finding the electrician to connect the generator to the building where our office is.
9:35 AM – Learning why the electrician cannot connect the generator because only one building can be connected to the generator at a time, and since I guess people’s lives are more important, the generator must remain connected to the hospital
10:00 AM – Introductory Meeting
10:01 AM – Meeting interrupted momentarily to celebrate the return of power.
10:15 AM – Hang up sign asking people to stay out of the testing room, and to refrain from disconnecting the machines in order to test new equipment
10:17 AM – Testing interrupted because gentleman wants to know if he can use the room to disconnect machines in order to test new equipment
10:17 AM – Sign is explained
11:00AM – Testing begins.
11:01 AM – Fill out MySpace survey so my 90+ contacts can know who my first crush was.
11:05 AM – Now: Fixing bugs

My culture has taught me to be a perfectionist. It’s not done, until it’s perfect. There’s no such thing as “almost”. ”Can someone be almost pregnant?“  is the question that was posed to me any time I did anything almost to completion. If it can’t be done the first time, it’s not worth doing. etc. Apparently the pyramids were a one shot deal. So after many years in the business, I’ve learned to accept the fact that a system can and will have a certain amount of imperfections, or “bugs” as they’re called.

But even after being a software developer for the last 6+ years, when I get a bug, there’s that small part of me, depending on how much sleep I’ve had the night before, that takes it personally, only because, well, that’s how I was brought up, culturally. Sometimes I want to shout back, “What do you mean the list isn’t sorting properly???” The fact that I can take constructive criticism, given my background, is a miracle, and a testament to the American education system.

Building a House of His Own

Elly Ojijo Ndolo. I have known this man since 1999, and he’s been a great friend of mine. He’s definitly one of my best friends here in Kenya. Someone I can just talk to and feel totally at home with. He has this natural ability to lead people. He doesn’t need to convince, or force, or control – he’s just himself. He’s humble, he loves, he cares, and he’s wise and strong. Bam – the perfect combo for a good leader.

On Sunday, it was announced that Elly was to be ordained as the priest and pastor of a church in Tanzania. After the service we had a get together at the house of Fr. Moses with the old crew. As I looked around the room, I saw faces, who were just kids when i came in 1999, and new faces, new generation since then. All together, singing songs in Elly’s native language, Luo, from the Jaluo people in the west.

Ngima Lomba
Ewan Watio
Ngima Lomba, ngima polo lomba
Ewan watio, Nengima!!
You know what, just listen to it here:

Elly and his wife Pendo, at the announcement

Emmanuel, confused?

Crackdowns, Creation, Clenched Fists

As time is going by, I’m definitely getting more attached to the guys I serve and meet with every Tuesday. It’s gonna be really hard to say bye in a few weeks. Life’s getting a bit more complicated for these guys. Police crackdowns in Kibera is making it almost impossible for people on the fringes to just get by. Police here are looking to make money, and to make trouble. They need to make their fellow Kenyan smaller in order for themselves to feel bigger. It’s atrocious! And the harassment a lot of our guys face scares them, and us. We have to move our meetings earlier so they can get here and back to Kibera before the nightly rounds, where cops will look for a bribe, or throw in jail. we promised them a day away from the city, to Lake Naivasha , which actually happened today (Saturday)

To be honest I’ve been writing this out over the course of a week, cuz it’s just been so busy around these parts!  But the story of our trip will come in a later blog. In the meanwhile, I have some great pics, some stories, yea!

Anyway back to last Tuesday and Elly. It was his last day here in Nairobi and he has been a part of this church for decades. That night, he was to depart and no longer return as Elly, but to return as Father Joshua. The guys were really sad, and made Elly a poster for him to remember them by, each one of us signed it. I also made my contribution, as you can tell, of a little cat chasing a dog: Everyone did their thing:


We talked about symbols, how symbols represent ideas, beliefs, places, people. There’s the world famous, cross, crescent moon, and star of david, the pillars of monotheism. There’s the don’t walk sign, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince. I asked them, “if someone were to make a symbol for you guys, this group, what would it have to express? The guys came up with this list:

That sounds about right:

My Maasai friend Robert snapped this one of us candidly and I’m very glad he did.

We said bye to Elly, knowing one day our paths will all cross again, though unfortunately, my time will be up here before Elly returns from Egypt.

Father Joshua, best of luck, brother!!


Dangerous Roads, Quality Assurance, and a Letter from Heaven

Like Kobe (back in Jan 05), I sprained my ankle, leaving me frustrated that I can’t play for the next 5 weeks. Unlike Kobe, I never harassed Katlyn Faber. Kobe Bryant gets fancy doctors, with MRI machines, that gently scan the injured area and show a detailed picture of what exactly is wrong with the 25 million dollar right foot of his. My foot couldn’t buy me a quart of milk if I needed it. It’s flat, it’s wide, and while it is a nice looking foot, it won’t pay my salary. And therefore, I don’t get the fancy MRI treatment. I get a man who recklessly pulls and contorts my ankle and asks “does it hurt when I do this?”

The roads here are deadly. I started training again, having just recovered from my last injury, a few days into this set of training sessions, and I’m injured again. Every 3 steps must be calculated when jogging along a footpath that has death traps every few feet. I should be thankful that it’s only a sprained ankle. All along the road there are deep ditches, stray vehicles, and robbers armed with rusty knives. Why do I keep running? I wanna prove that I’m not too soft for Nairobi, no matter what the T-shirt says.

Commitment to Quality

It’s been a crazy busy time as things have been wrapping up development. I just want one week to go buy that isn’t intense in some way – the kinds of things that happen here, even when i lock myself in a room to write PHP code all day – always tend to make me think, teach me a life lesson. Is this how life is for everyone else? Am I that distracted to notice it back home?

We’re starting the QA phase of things here. I actually have a team now! I have two testers, who have never done this sort of thing before. We spent a good part of the morning yesterday, going over some basics. Why testing is needed, the role of testers, how one should test, etc. Today, the rookie Functional Analyst, and myself will be writing test scripts, so we can test the hell out of this application, and see if it holds the tests of weather and earth.

I feel stressed.

Lord of the Rings: The Final Episode

Yup! you guessed it. It’s Tuesday night, and it was time for our last installment of the three-part epic tale that stole our hearts even tho we had no idea what was going on in 2001, when the first movie came out (and I mean those who hadn’t read Tolkien’s book). Maybe 8 showed up last night, and I asked Patrick, where the rest were.

Patrick has an unusually deep voice. He has a very young face, and his voice resonates extremely low and piercing.

Patrick tells me that the cops showed up in his neighborhood today. Days like this, he and his friends have to hide. Whether or not they are doing something wrong or illegal, they will be harassed and taken to jail unless they can pay the cops a little “Christmas Bonus”, as they like to call it. He says his friends are hiding, and don’t wanna be seen by the police, but he assures me that more will arrive later. At any rate, we started the movie.

For some reason, they find Gollum to be the funniest thing ever. When a man is killed or harmed, the guys are horrified. When Gollum is hit by a rock, or knifed, or strangled, they crack the hell up. I’ll tell you what wasn’t funny:

I guess everyone thought Frodo was really gonna be the hero. We talked a bit at the end, who saved the world and destroyed the ring? It was a good split in opinion: 1/3rd said it was Frodo, 1/3rd said it was Sam, and 1/3rd said it was Gollum. In Tolkien’s book, the author explains that it is actually mercy that destroys the ring. It was Frodo’s mercy on Gollum, that keeps him alive when he could have killed him instead. And had Gollum not attacked Frodo in the end, the ring would have been kept by the young hobbit and that would have been the end of all things.

An Unexpected Letter

Joseph is 14 years old, with a sunshine smile. He’s new to the group. He is short and stands at the height of everyone else’s chest or belly. It’s kinda funny as we all gather arms around each other in a circle to see him having to stretch. He came to me and said “Here’s a note for you. I wrote it myself, Paul. Just for you!” And I was like “oh cool” in the way I usually show that I’m impressed with very little. I already knew what the note said: “Dear Paul, thanks for everything. I need sponsorship for school. Please enclose 500 KSH or something of that order. It was a day where I felt a lot was being demanded of me, so I automatically assumed the trend to continue. He asked me again if I had read his letter, and I told him I’d read it later when I got home that night. Sunshine smile responds “Yes!”

Let me rewind a moment, if I may. I’ve been having many spiritual and life questions and such out here. When one is exposed to a lot, it shakes the very foundation of what they know, and it’s often a good thing, but the unknown is often disconcerting. And the questions have been in the back of my mind for such a long time. Sometimes peace is hard to achieve, but I continue, nonetheless.

Last night, I was suprised to find something very different than I’d expected in this letter from Joseph. Joseph, who does not even know me, who’s spent a total of 3 hours with me, mostly in front of a projector watching a Hollywood epic, had provided an answer to a big part of my inner most questions in this letter. A 14-year-old, wrote me some very simple things, but phrased it in such a way that spoke directly to my situation. It was the phrasing that affected me! There was no time to ponder or think. The words went from that page, straight to my eyes, completely bypassed my brain and shot down into my heart, and within milliseconds, I was weeping. Whether or not what he told me was true or not, is irrelevant. It honestly felt like a letter from God himself. In a moment, I forgot I was in my friends apartment watching “World’s Strongest Man” competition on ESPN, when I heard “uh dude? what’s wrong??”

What a great gift. This piece of paper is being tattooed on my arm.

And what’s cool, last night was the first time the guys didn’t ask for money during the goodbyes. It was just all hugs, and “see you next time”. I think something’s sinking in? Maybe? Who knows. Maybe they’re gettin more at our meeting than a few shillings can give them.. cuz that’s what I’m hoping. Nothing’s ideal, but it was a nice change.

Yea – its almost 9am and I got a meeting in 15 minutes. I gotta shower and I gotta eat.

And coffee.


How to Make It

“the only way to really make it~ anywhere ~ is to put every bit of your being into the thing that only you can provide. the only angle is the art that you choose, that only you can provide. and to do that, you have to be quiet for a long time and find out what you bring forth. you have to know what’s in youself~ all of your eccentricities, all your banalities, the full flavor of your woe and your joy. what does it look like? what makes it different from everybody else’s? it’s totally subjective. you’re just given the task of bringing it up.”

~ Jeff Buckley


Nairobi Meets The Shire

Tuesday night, the street kids came to the center and we did another movie and dinner with them. This time we escaped from the PSA style movies of “Drugs are Bad” and “Littering Lowers Community Morale”, and went straight for Hollywood. No more crumbs and leftovers of our art.  I wanted to give these guys our best of cinema. And what better representation of the best Hollywood has produced, than none other than, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. We set up an outdoor “drive-in” type theatre with a projector against a big screen, stereo sound, in this outdoor stone gazebo by the Hope Center. I may have told a half-truth to the staff, that LOTR was a religious movie.


The guys came late, some were high (the smell of glue was strong on some of their breaths) but they came anyway, and we were glad to have them. I wasn’t sure how they would receive a movie like Lord of the Rings. None of them have even heard of the movie. We had occasional pauses where Elly would explain some of the plot in Swahili, but I noticed that the visuals were so on point, that the various shots told the story itself. Dialogue seemed more like filler.

What was so interesting bout watching the movie with those guys was, how sensitive they were to the violence and images on screen. Their real lives contain images that would make the average Middle-Class American cringe or tremble, yet we rarely take a second look when someone gets their head cut off on screen, yet, whenever a sword was drawn, or a monster’s face was profiled, the reaction from these guys was unreal. They were so sensitive to the pain of the characters on screen. I’m loving these guys more and more…

Elly was re-assuring me that these guys do have hope. That hope is something that we can’t give up on, and any changes we may not even see, and it’s ok. The point is that he believes change will come, whether we know it or not, so to just keep on helping and hanging out with these guys. We both agreed that the more we get to know each other, the more we start receiving from these guys, and I tell you, these guys have a lot to give. Tonite we had a few new faces: Edward, Patrick, and Ashim. Nelson was definitely there, and he told me why they nicknamed him “Jamaica”.  All these dudes have nicknames!

Elly and his wife sat watched the movie with us. Elly is such a lifesaver. I don’t know what I’d do without him. The guys love him! He talks their talk, he vibes with them well. Makes me realize that my language barrier is a bigger barrier than I’d like to be. In Nairobi, English is spoken, but these guys barely speak the language.

I gotta learn Swahili.

We got thru a good part of Fellowship of the Ring, and then chatted about it a little. I shared with them how i related to Bilbo with his inability to part with the ring, as i’ve had an inability for years to part with cigarettes. Kamau kinda had a shocked look on his face when I shared that I was heavily addicted to smokes.

I chatted with Father Moses about an idea that I had about spending the day with them in Kibera, and he kinda was against it. He said, “you don’t wanna make them into hypocrites.” I wasn’t following, but he said “they’ll put on a show for you when you’re around, let them be themselves when they’re at home.” I kinda get it, but I kinda don’t.

I’ll let you know what I find out. He gave me a big hug, and after the hug it kinda hit me that I needed that. I’ve felt kinda alone out here, and something clicked after the hug. It was all good. I was in a bad mood earlier today, just frustrated over my leg injury, and the fact that my desk was missing from my office this morning. I guess I was in a bad mood or something, who knows. Anyway, feeling good tonight, bout to go to bed, and have a new day to start tomorrow.

Chau, locos! Say hi to the States for me.


Peace in the Middle East: “The Long Night” by Nadav Samin & Co.

The Long Night by Nadav Samin

Click to Listen

The Long Night

H: If you had a minute, tell me what
hurts, and frustrates, and itches at your soul,
[let’s] talk about “the situation,” that has no end and no line, with
a fence, without a fence, there’s no place to hide.

A: My brothers, times are tough! ! , the hatred has increased along with
the sound of the helicopters behind your children, I know your father
is an engineer, but he sits in the street selling coffee, there’s no
justice, there’s no solace.

H: All the time, chaos, there’s no take, its only give,
they don’t want peace, they want us in the ocean.

A: Settlements surround us, we want to go swimming,
but all of the pools are in the Jewish areas.

H: There is a partner, there isn’t a partner, they’re dragging us by
the nose,
A: The army is everywhere, politics has failed.

H: Settlers and terrorists, politicians are corrupt,
A: And we don’t want to live in one-fourth of Palestine.


A: My night has grown long, for the love of one I fear does not draw
H: The night goes on, stretches on.

Verse Two

A: And at the checkpoints, you can see the ugly ceremonies, the true reality,
without all of your rose-colored dreams.

E: Hardly a moment before the party starts,
another flower drops and from her mouth a lollipop.

H: So that another one doesn’t fall at a club, at a Bat Mitzvah
A: or at her wedding celebration.

E: Jerusalem’s cheeks are ruddy red hills and vales,
how many cheeks will be drained, pale?

H: I’m just a soldier standing at the checkpoint,
standing and praying that I return home safely.

A: Hey soldier, let us through! Even though I’m patient, there isn’t
even [enough] food in our land for you to confiscate!

H: The government is poor, they’re closing hospitals,
but somehow, they’re building bypass roads for the bypass roads.

E: And the music plays on even after we’re gone,
from Brooklyn to Qadima to Ramallah and on…

A: My night has grown long, for the love of one I fea! r does not draw
H: The night goes on, stretches on.


Munich 1972: No winners. All have lost.

In Munich, at the 1972 Olympic Games, 11 Israeli atheletes were killed at the hands of an Arab extremist group known as “Black September”. Speilberg, decided to make a movie about the events that followed and were triggered by this tragic event. I saw Munich tonight with Ron, David, Denise, and Juan. If someone took a snapshot of our faces before and after the movie it would look something like this:



The film hit us pretty deeply. We all left the theatre with few words, but by looking in each other’s eyes, I could see truly what each heart was saying. I knew what MY heart was saying, “how could this be?” Do we not bleed the same blood? Do we not eat and shit the same way? The Arab-Israeli conflict is almost as old as history itself. Though many would explain it away as a conflict of faiths, but I would argue that it’s more about two groups of people who desire a home, a place to call home, a home that’s safe, prosperous, peaceful; a natural right, due to every human on the planet.

What fuels this conflict is the dehumanization of both sides, by leaders, affecting and manipulating the common person, causing this horrible cycle of events that just won’t stop, and will not stop until some drastic change takes place.

And that is really the fact that brought me to tears, as I walked down 30th Street towards Lexington. My heart was broken. Broken for every Israeli and Palestinian child, that by nature, knows nothing of fear, until they are faced with the necessity to survive as those who have survived before them.

Again, this is the fact that broke my heart. The fact that this movie documents events that took place over 30 years ago, and nothing has changed. In fact, it has gotten worse. The conflict has arisen to the global level, and we’ve seen it on our own soil, in September 2001.

While watching the film, I wondered if Speilberg chose an inappropriate time to make such a movie. I watched the messages, and the motives, and the propaganda from both sides, on screen, being rehashed over and over again. Those messages that have ignited mass murders and destruction in the Middle East, being recounted time and time again, and I asked myself, does this world need a work of art that will continue fueling this anger in such a polarized manner?  And as I walked away, all I was left with, was a sense of anguish. It was all so clear. No one will win. No one will win. No one… and it hit me. That’s exactly the message that was communicated through this film.

But maybe art can have more of an influence than money and power. Just maybe.

I remember visiting Israel in 2004. My attempted return to the states at the airport in Tel-Aviv, was an experience many Americans will not have to face in their travels. I was part of a tour group, all of whom were white Americans, many of whom were midwestern, and I stood out like a sore thumb, as my Egyptian features called out to the soldiers and security officials like neon lights beckoning patronization. And I was immediately pulled from the line, and entered a 90 minute ordeal of harsh interrogation. I was a threat. Not because I had done anything, not because anyone in my family and circle of friends had done anything, but I fit the profile of one who possibly could harm the well being of the state of Israel. Ironic that a 26 year old male from New York City, a musician, who’d never even got into a fist-fight in his life, was a threat to the country. And it hurt and angered me, but at the same time, I understood. Their country is surrounded by neighbors who would have them destroyed. Protection is their key to survival.

But I was angry. I was angry because I was judged. For a moment, I was no longer Paul, but I was “possible threat”. There’s a saying “I am who you think I am.” It’s challenging to not feel the projections of another person onto you. And these officers, who are humans with souls, and loves, and passions, like you and I, were no longer people, but they were a threat to me. And so the cycle continued, and continued.

Until, I was taken into a back room, where I was asked to remove my shirt and belt, and the security officer, a young man, in his early 20’s, put on a rubber latex glove. And no this is not the beginnings of a twisted romance, just bear with me, and it will all make sense. I was hoping to be 50 years old before I had my first rectal exam, so you can imagine my nerve as I was unpreparedly pushed to the front of the queue. And I looked him straight in the eye and said “before you do anything, just let me know what you do, before you do it.” Maybe it was the sincerity in my question, maybe it was something in my own eyes that this officer saw, but he looked at me with the same intensity as i looked at him, and took off the glove and said that it would not be necessary.

I asked him “How old are you?” he looked back at me and said “23…. you?” “26”, I replied as I would have if I was introduced to an acquaintance. “So, is this what you will do for the rest of your life?  Is this your vocation?” “Oh no”, the young officer replied. “I’m a humanitarian. I wanna do something that will do well for the soul, and the souls of others… this is just until I finish school…. how about yourself?” “I’m a musician…” and tail end of a 90-minute interrogation session had morphed into a dialogue of souls. Where two people caught in the cyclical web, were able to break away for a moment and see the humanity in the other. I was no longer “a threatening passenger”. I was Paul. And he was no longer “a threatening officer”, but he was Elon. And he decided to escort me to my flight, taking me past the rest of the checkpoints, and saw me to my gate on time. And we shared a wonderful talk, and wished each other well.

I’m not sure if there’s something to be learned here, but I took away something very special: that beyond our agendas and motives, within each person resides a soul, a soul that desires connection, that desires peace, and that desires respect. How much easier a lesson is learned on a person to person level, in a back room, away from the onslaughts and viruses that corrupt our innocence and our innate desire for peace and connection.But for a second, being removed, one can see the truth, and one can appreciate life. It gives me hope. And hope is all we have.


One Song, One Last Refrain: Meeting Adam Pascal

Well, it’s been a painfully long time since I’ve written last. For my two readers out there, although I cannot promise that I’ll never make you endure the withdrawal pains you may have suffered during the last 10 days, but what I can promise, is my love for you will never dwindle, nor expire.

Now onto business. As you guys know, I’m a Rent fan, and as of this writing – there are 18 days till the movie comes out. People ask me why I like this show so much, and the answer is simple: it kicks ass. I’m not really a fan of musical theater, though I can appreciate it artistically, mainly because of the pristine quality of much of the songs out there, its just not palatable for me, but Jonathan Larson, God rest his soul, really took a departure in both music, as well as plot, and created something real. Being a New Yorker, I see the characters in his show every day on the street, in the cafes, in my classes. Its the world we live in, and its the reality, minus the fact that people break into song every five minutes, but depending on the crowd you hang with, it may happen.

Firstly, I ran into Adam Pascal at a Duane Reade. Very random. He was very cool, and he even signed my receipt. I hope one day I’ll be able to transform a stranger’s drug store receipt into memorabilia.

Well, in an attempt to find some midi files on the net of some of the songs from the show, I found a lot of crap out there. When it comes to music, I’m a perfectionist, and I figure, if you’re gonna make an arrangement of a song, let it be accurate.

When I was younger, I would do exercizes where I would listen to a piece, and learn each instrument line, then record each line, layer by layer, and see if the end result sounds like the original. This past week, I did the same with ‘Another Day’, Mimi and Roger’s, duet.

Although it is a pop song, it was difficult to figure out, especially the arpeggios in the piano parts. And there’s no rhyme or reason to many of the patterns in Larson’s score, which is what keeps it alive, and natural. So, at any rate, I have available to download, both the MIDI file that I created, and an mp3 of the midi file, when I play it out of my sound library. The 2 files sound very different, but it’s the same arrangement… timbre makes such a difference, no?

And finally I want to make a dedication. The work I put into this song this past week, I wanna dedicate to an old and very dear friend of mine, Anna Fassell. Anna, know that I love you and that I’m praying for you. You brought this song to me, and so now I wanna give it back to you, with my time, sweat, and the earache i suffered after hearing it repeatedly. Bats forever…..

Another Day: By Jonathan Larson, MIDI Transcription by Paul Kist: MP3


Poem: My Weekend Afternoon

Currently Playing Garden State By Various Artists

Don’t you just love it
When you look up at the sky
and the sun looks like a silvery disc
just chillin there.

Flying around the sky
and when you see it get bigger
and it kinda like lands right above your head

And then little men with big heads
and insect-like
emerge suddenly, beaming out of the
silvery disc

and then next thing you know
you’re in the sun
and they sticking needles in your back

yea, life is good


Tarantino’s Message of Grace

Currently Playing: De La Guarda By De La Guarda

“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee” - Ezekiel 25:17

At home, very sick, so naturally I decided to put on Pulp Fiction. What better movie to watch when you’re coughing up brown phlegm?  The only thing that competes with the vileness that i’m expelling from my lungs, are the brain and skull remains stuck to Samuel Jackson’s blood soaked hair.

But this movie is more about guts, and violence, and wit: it’s about grace. Even the most powerful of us need grace, and no one is exempt from needing it, and no one is beyond receiving it.  It seems that grace is necessary for survival, for all of us.

Something to think about.