Wanderlust

Living at home again with my family is quite different than living abroad. Both are good in many different ways. 

On monday, memorial day, we decided to follow the rest of San Diego down to the beach. But instead of lounging in the sand we rented bikes in Coronado, rode to the Imperial Beach pier, had lunch at The Tin Fish, and rode back. After readjusting to home life, family days like these are nice. 

As I said, these days are nice. They're comfortable and warm, and I smile often. But as I smile, the angel, the enchantress, the siren named Wanderlust speaks to me. "The road is open to you if you take it underfoot," she seductively whispers, "There is adventure over the next white-capped mountain, in the next silent cove. The world is longing desperately to embrace you on its distant shores and wooded paths. Will you step into it?"

Unbored

Earlier today I was bored, so I decided not to be. I had an old t-shirt with a graphic that I loved, and I wanted to come up with a cool way of preserving it since the shirt was starting to get pretty ragged. I cut out the graphic and stretched it over a canvas. I like it.

Las Canarias

To those of you who were there, to those whom I promised a video, I'm sorry. I slacked on the videographing (definitely a word) and didn't take enough to truly capture the strange but excellent essence of that bewildering trip. But here's the little I did take. I miss you all. Enjoy.

Scandalous Snowbirds from Denny Moody on Vimeo.

Heavenly Steps

Today I saw stairs spiraling into the heavens, and I dreamt of where they might lead. I watched them twisting and where the rusted metal stopped, I could see gleaming lines of silver continuing the upward march toward the divine. Here and there along the twisted journey, great birds were perched and would leap into flight, twirling in the lofty heights, silhouetted before the brilliant sun. The stairs spun dizzyingly until they were beyond my vision, but just before they disappeared in an atmospheric speck, I seemed to perceive a door, to which the great stairs lead. The door stood open, welcoming, beckoning any and all who ascended to its unimaginable height to enter and touch the heart of its mystery. I could not see through the door, there my sight failed me, but my inner eye imagined the wonderful peace waiting on the other side, and the mere thought of it contented my soul, and I wept for joy upon joy.

The Death of Genius

I was planning on returning to my old blog, A Futile Attempt At Genius, after my study abroad experience had ended, but I've decided to stick with this one. Since I'm quitting the old one, I had a desire to carry a small part of it forward with me, so here I've reposted one of my old entries. Here's to yesterday, today, and tomorrow...

The Greatest of Trees

I ran. I slithered through the shadowed streets of town. Here and there the night’s darkness was softened by glowing lamps atop ancient posts, statuesque reminders of a land where Lion is god, and children are kings.

I ran. I huffed and puffed, but no houses collapsed, they simply slipped behind me, receding into the past. When my heart could pound no more, I stopped. I stood on Varona and saw such a sweeping spectacle. So, I smiled. I smiled at the glowing San Diego cityscape before me and said, “Thanks.”

As I stood, smiling, satisfied it occurred to me that there once was a great tree that grew from the ground where the city now lies. Many years ago, when the ground was fresh and fantastically fertile, the tree grew to such a height that was, at the time, immeasurable. As astounding as the tree, was the stature of the men who tended it. Upon it’s many green boughs and branches they hung and strung brilliant bulbs and bobbles of varied color and size.  The noble tree was dressed in such magnificence that its beauty lit the night. But in a tremendously terrible tragedy, the tree one day fell. Some thought it was the weight of its divine décor that decided its destruction. Others said the tree, knowing it had reached the limit of its beauty, was so satisfied with its stint on earth that it ended itself. No matter the cause, the tree fell, and when it fell, so did its many lights and other terrific trappings. In time, the ground devoured the tree, but even after the earth had eaten the great tree, the decorations lingered in the land. The lights still shone brightly with beautiful brilliance, and around this splayed array of a spectacular spectrum, a new people grew. As the people grew they built their city around the lights, and they forgot their past, and they knew not of the great tree. Eons have passed and nothing remains of the tree, but at night the city glows, and the lights that shine are the same that once hung in the lofty limbs of that great tree.

As quickly as this revelation came it ended, and I was once more standing, smiling, satisfied on Varona.