New Roads Part 2

Familiar Spirits

[For an audio version of this post, play the video at the bottom of the page.]

When I wrote Part 1, Dad had been speaking to me about "familiar spirits." I didn't realize that's what we'd been conversing about until recently. The term "familiar spirits" isn't mine, it's one I've heard used by folks who've spoken words about the concept that resonated with me. Whenever I use the term though, it feels a little foreign and religious. I don't like it, but I don't have anything better just yet.

I'm going to discuss a little of my experiences over the past couple weeks recognizing and addressing familiar spirits related to my knee. I'm not going to go into real extensive detail over the theology behind the concept because I think its been covered very well by others.

One great source for theology on the concept is The Company of Burning Hearts, a team in Wales, UK founded by Justin and Rachel Abraham. They've got a free podcast; if you haven't downloaded it I recommend it. Not because I agree with everything their speakers say, but because every time I listen, they're speaking about something ridiculously relevant in my current conversations with Dad.

The Podcast below, "Episode 30 - Familiar Spirits," is Ian Clayton speaking on June 25th 2011. I found it last week, after asking Dad for something to listen to while trying to get my knee healed. The title didn't catch my eye, because I wasn't looking to learn about familiar spirits. Something about the description engaged me, though, so I hit play.

A reference to the Lone Ranger and Tonto early in the podcast confirmed I was on the right track; it was the third unsolicited such reference I'd encountered in a day or two. If you're giving it a go, Ian gets good and poignant at about 5:50. I read American Gods by Neil Gaiman recently, and Ian hits on exactly the message I received from that book.



As I listened, I began to recognize the moods I've been experiencing since injuring my knee were very much what Ian was describing. A literal dialogue in my mind speaking lies directly aimed at my identity and relationship with Dad. Beyond that, I began to recognize that I hadn't heard that dialogue in a very long time, but I had heard it before - word for word - when I last tore my ACL. Deja vu.

While I laid hands on my knee, the image of a heavy wooden door came to mind and I spoke the words "I close the door this injury opened." I then invited Holy Spirit into my knee via a door I built just for Her. I'm still weeding out familiar spirits, but they're getting less and less frequent (at least in regards to my knee).

Seems like in the moment I first injured my knee years ago, a door was created by a brushfire of fear, fueled by Fword-inducing pain. That door has been open until now. When it was open, I'd take authority and clean house of familiar spirits, only to have more walk right in. Now, they leave and have no entrance through which to return with friends.

That's my best effort at describing this thing that's happening, at least.

This time, when I injured my knee, I was quite calm in comparison. I knew exactly what had been done. I didn't cry or curse. Immediately, my mind went to Jesus and I began releasing healing. The moment I hit the ground, I rebuked the pain. My friend Meghan sat by me and laid hands, too. What an awesome place to get healed and demonstrate Dad's presence, I thought.

I don't want to say I wasn't healed, or I'm not healed. I firmly believe, in fact, that I am healed.

The evidence remains, though, that my knee is quite swollen, often painful, and limited to a restricted range of motion.

New Roads 1.75 (Re-Release)

Blackberries 

I'm re-releasing this post with a reading by yours truly. I'm hoping to engage with anyone who hates reading, which up till now hasn't been the case. I don't know why the finalized version of the video decided to chop off my forehead, I'll have to work on that for future releases. Featured music is "All Men" by Simon The Leper from the You Are OK E.P. Find it at http://simontheleper.bandcamp.com.

I'm writing this dystopic fiction story novel thing. It's called Extinguishment. Or Fire Starter. Or neither of those. I started writing it last November for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and have been fiddling with it ever since. 

A detail I've been really trying to grasp is one of the main settings: Olympia, after being deserted and completely unoccupied for at least 200 years. My characters have moved in, they're setting up camp, they're galavanting through the ruins and finding all kinds of cool crap. 

So what do they see? Smell? Stub their toes on? 

I've imagined they'd find an ample supply of coffee, a printing press, some houses still standing, old cars, heaps and heaps of plastic water bottles. Tumwater Falls is the only source of potable water left in North America; communities have been established at The Falls, and in the train tunnel downtown. 

Plant life has been a major factor in how I picture this new Olympia. Since November, I figured the whole place has been completely overtaken by blackberries. With no natural predator and no people to tame the bushes, it seemed logical. 

The ground, except where roads were paved, is completely overgrown with the thorny bushes, greatly restricting already restricted travel. Not to mention the spattering of hybrid blackberry bushes whose genetic makeup fused with nano-bots and evolved highly lethal, shooting thorns. So basically, you travel the paved roads, or don't travel. 

 As I mentioned in Part 1, I had a vision about blackberries. These are those blackberries. 

I sat in the living room in our new apartment with my knee elevated, trying to ignore the boxes and piles of random crap that needed unpacked. With no internet or television to distract me, I opened my notebook and started writing. Almost immediately, I hit a wall in the story that required a more firm understanding of the setting. Something told me the current blackberry situation wasn't going to cut it. 

With a sigh, I said "Dad, what does this Olympia look like?" I started to imagine a tropical climate (I've been learning about climate change). Not only have the pines been replaced with palms, a natural enemy to blackberries has been introduced. The tropical plants, both natural and hybrid nano-bot beasts, grow in such abundance the blackberries are almost completely choked out. 

Almost. They did find a means of survival. 

The asphalt used to pave our roads has rendered the soil beneath toxic. None of the new tropical plants can grow where asphalt was laid. So, where we now have roads, there are rivers of painful and lethal blackberries. 

Suddenly I realized there are no roads in my story. Likely, no one in my story even knows what roads are. They're creating new roads out of necessity, and don't even realize it. 

I started writing again with vigor. It wasn't until a few days later, when I wrote Part 1, that I realized God had given me this vision. Here I was, thinking I tapped into my own vast imagination. If you'll remember with me, though, I asked Dad a question. He's faithful about answering questions. 

Cool. SO. Not only did this imagery give me context for my story, it also gave me context for the shift me and my fellows are experiencing. 

We're stepping into a new climate, and engaging relationally with Dad in ways that we haven't been taught. The roads that got us here won't get us much further. We're going to need to not only take new roads, but take paths that won't exist until we travel them. 

There's a story in acts 10. A friend I call Wee Todd brought this story to my attention while praying with a group of awesome folks at an explosive Memorial Day BBQ (which I'll need to tell you about in the next post.) I'd never heard this story, but Dad flipped my Bible open to it a few days ago (another story I'll need to tell you about). 

Celebration!

3,000 Pageviews

Woo! Yeah!

I wanted to snag a screen shot right at 3000 but I was too late. 3005 it is.

Dad told me to celebrate this milestone. In response, I expressed some apprehension. Come on Dad, 3000 is a big number for me but what does is really mean? And anyway, there are blogs that probably get 3000 views on a single post. It's taken my all time history to rack up those digits!

Anyway, I'm not writing for views. I'm writing for the sake of my health. So, there, Dad. Why must I celebrate? 

He kept at me, prompting me with the idea for a screen shot and a blog post. 

As if to reiterate my own misgivings, a couple bloggers I follow happened to post Facebook statuses mentioning things like "This post got 60,000 views so here's a collection of my most popular..." 

Rather than celebrate for my fellow bloggers, I immediately began comparing myself. Almost as immediately, I thought: Crap. I'm missing the point. 

So here it is. A celebration of those who've clicked on my blog, those who've stuck around to read, and particularly those who comment and/or share. I even used colorful font up at the top, there. 

I need to write because it is my art. I enjoy writing about my relationship with Dad because it helps me digest. That a single person feels compelled to read blows my mind. Thanks friends! You're awesome!

New Roads Part 1.75

Blackberries 

I'm writing this dystopic fiction story novel thing. It's called Extinguishment. Or Fire Starter. Or neither of those. I started writing it last November for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and have been fiddling with it ever since. 

A detail I've been really trying to grasp is one of the main settings: Olympia, after being deserted and completely unoccupied for at least 200 years. My characters have moved in, they're setting up camp, they're galavanting through the ruins and finding all kinds of cool crap. 

So what do they see? Smell? Stub their toes on? 

I've imagined they'd find an ample supply of coffee, a printing press, some houses still standing, old cars, heaps and heaps of plastic water bottles. Tumwater Falls is the only source of potable water left in North America; communities have been established at The Falls, and in the train tunnel downtown. 

Plant life has been a major factor in how I picture this new Olympia. Since November, I figured the whole place has been completely overtaken by blackberries. With no natural predator and no people to tame the bushes, it seemed logical. 

The ground, except where roads were paved, is completely overgrown with the thorny bushes, greatly restricting already restricted travel. Not to mention the spattering of hybrid blackberry bushes whose genetic makeup fused with nano-bots and evolved highly lethal, shooting thorns. So basically, you travel the paved roads, or don't travel. 

 As I mentioned in Part 1, I had a vision about blackberries. These are those blackberries. 

I sat in the living room in our new apartment with my knee elevated, trying to ignore the boxes and piles of random crap that needed unpacked. With no internet or television to distract me, I opened my notebook and started writing. Almost immediately, I hit a wall in the story that required a more firm understanding of the setting. Something told me the current blackberry situation wasn't going to cut it. 

With a sigh, I said "Dad, what does this Olympia look like?" I started to imagine a tropical climate (I've been learning about climate change). Not only have the pines been replaced with palms, a natural enemy to blackberries has been introduced. The tropical plants, both natural and hybrid nano-bot beasts, grow in such abundance the blackberries are almost completely choked out. 

Almost. They did find a means of survival. 

The asphalt used to pave our roads has rendered the soil beneath toxic. None of the new tropical plants can grow where asphalt was laid. So, where we now have roads, there are rivers of painful and lethal blackberries. 

Suddenly I realized there are no roads in my story. Likely, no one in my story even knows what roads are. They're creating new roads out of necessity, and don't even realize it. 

I started writing again with vigor. It wasn't until a few days later, when I wrote Part 1, that I realized God had given me this vision. Here I was, thinking I tapped into my own vast imagination. If you'll remember with me, though, I asked Dad a question. He's faithful about answering questions. 

Cool. SO. Not only did this imagery give me context for my story, it also gave me context for the shift me and my fellows are experiencing. 

We're stepping into a new climate, and engaging relationally with Dad in ways that we haven't been taught. The roads that got us here won't get us much further. We're going to need to not only take new roads, but take paths that won't exist until we travel them. 

There's a story in acts 10. A friend I call Wee Todd brought this story to my attention while praying with a group of awesome folks at an explosive Memorial Day BBQ (which I'll need to tell you about in the next post.) I'd never heard this story, but Dad flipped my Bible open to it a few days ago (another story I'll need to tell you about).