of abiding

when hope is so present
when he is embracing everything
and you go joyfully seeking out
those old hopeless places
just to see him show up

today i reign in a tired horse
at the limit edge of the horizon.
i have ridden a lifetime,
from the other side of this dream,
all the way around the world;
i couldn’t really get there
that other way.
when the pleasant borders of
this fine country
uncover their proud beauty
all my deep wells smile,
all my bright face smiles.
i have seen this promise.
i have made my home
in this familiar place;
these soft hills, that stream,
this persimmon tree.
i was taught their songs,
i have sung their songs;
all my life;
i have fallen for those eyes

In cell biology, the nucleus is a membrane enclosed organelle found in eukaryotic cells. It contains most of the cell’s genetic material, organized as multiple long linear DNA molecules in complex with a large variety of proteins, such as histones, to form chromosomes. The genes within these chromosomes are the cell’s nuclear genome. The function of the nucleus is to maintain the integrity of these genes and to control the activities of the cell by regulating gene expression — the nucleus is therefore the control center of the cell. The main structures making up the nucleus are the nuclear envelope, a double membrane that encloses the entire organelle and separates its contents from the cellular cytoplasm, and the nuclear lamina, a meshwork within the nucleus that adds mechanical support, much like the cytoskeleton supports the cell as a whole. Because the nuclear membrane is impermeable to most molecules, nuclear pores are required to allow movement of molecules across the envelope. These pores cross both of the membranes, providing a channel that allows free movement of small molecules and ions. The movement of larger molecules such as proteins is carefully controlled, and requires active transport regulated by carrier proteins. Nuclear transport is crucial to cell function, as movement through the pores is required for both gene expression and chromosomal maintenance.

Although the interior of the nucleus does not contain any membrane-bound subcompartments, its contents are not uniform, and a number of subnuclear bodies exist, made up of unique proteins, RNA molecules, and particular parts of the chromosomes. The best known of these is the nucleolus, which is mainly involved in the assembly of ribosomes. After being produced in the nucleolus, ribosomes are exported to the cytoplasm where they translate mRNA.  [x]

words are at their very best like particles
completely unmeasured
they are all the velocities
and all the momentums
and every place at once
if your attention pays too close to their skin
they collapse
and make far too much sense to go anywhere

i would like to live on the summit of the sharpest mountain
that prows its peak into the only blue sky.
until it gets too cold.
or i need groceries.
or i need groceries, get them that one time, and need them again;
‘cause i’d know what it was like to haul them up the hill.

then i would like to live in the valley,
and rest from my mountains in a hammock.
i’d be sore, and feel justified swinging
between two pine barky trees;
my body would tell me i’d done enough
to not do enough for a while.

or maybe i’d just like to not do enough for a while,
and feel justified.

it’s easter.
and i remember why i don’t write
poetry in the winter.
my arms and legs are covered
in the fingernail scratches of blackberries,
i wrestled all of yesterday.
my face is the kinda warm
you get when you’re
one kiss away from sunburned.
i spent the afternoon
travelling by foot,
held all around by rustling leaves
and the sound of children
playing on fresh grass.

that feeling you get
when you leave a cold building
into the warm air;
that lasted all day—
i guess i’ve been cold.
it’s nice to feel that the sun
might be shining on me for a while.

Imagine some “thing” of sufficient smallness as to be outside of our general awareness. Perhaps a quark. Can you imagine it? No? Good. Instead let us merely have in our minds the idea of some thing thusly small. This thing is surrounded by other very small things. It interacts with them. All of these things have properties, phenomena, stimuli, et possibly cetera. They have a reality and ways of making themselves known to other things.

Our interaction with the world does not require any knowledge of these small things. We are able to execute the desires of our will upon the world without taking into account this tiny reality.

Small things with properties,
Communicating direct reality to one another.
That reality propagated to something larger,
Until it is sufficiently noticeable as to distract my senses.
Is the small reality lost to me or is it summed up in this larger reality?
Is it the confluence of tiny properties that attracts me,
Or some larger “summary”?

How are we so adept at manipulating our complex world, with such blunt, coarse fingers? We are floating on a sea of cacophonous reality, unaware of its vast majority, and yet we are experts at our world. Of the universe’s minutiae I am overwhelmingly ignorant, but I will live the rest of my life rarely surprised by its phenomena, and often able to manipulate it according to my desires.

This may turn into a lengthy diatribe, something potentially pithy, or be erased. Please join me in the adventure.

Much theology has been derived from Jesus’ words on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This theological abundance weighs heavily upon the view that Jesus is here expressing his separation from his father (Father). I find this interpretation to be misguided, overly simplistic, and frustrating. In an attempt to vent some of that frustration I will take advantage of the tacit hope realized by all Internet critics, of reaching untold millions, and effuse my viewpoint out to anyone interested enough to read it. In the process, I hope to at least bring a new perspective. I will leave it up to you to realize what I hope, at best.

I’m not going to address the ontological absurdity of division in the Trinity, apart from saying that it’s absurd. I’m also not addressing the fact that Jesus was the exact representation of the Father, and his entire life disagrees with the heart of a father who would abandon his son. I’d like focus on Jesus’ purpose in saying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” as he died on the cross.

Looking at this statement on its own, it’s easy to come up with any number of potential explanations. It’s also easy to make the mistake of those who heard the words, live in person, and totally misunderstand them. Let us refrain from that. Instead, we shall cast our gaze to the first verse of Psalm 22 and share a single gasp to discover the very same words quoted above. So Jesus is quoting Psalm 22 in order to express his separation from his Father. All well and good. Wait, no! Jesus isn’t just taking a random verse out of the context of Psalm 22, redefining it, and throwing it into his present situation in a very self-directed way. He is instead using the first verse to invite the present situation into the context of Psalm 22, in a way that welcomes all of humanity to come along, and especially listening Israel. So what does Psalm 22 mean? Without too much detail, I’ll cover the broad strokes.

Psalm 22 is a messianic psalm. That’s really significant. Especially considering it’s being quoted by the Messiah. Jesus is saying that all that Messiah stuff is happening right in front of those hearing his words. This psalm describes the very moment Jesus is experiencing, and follows up with the promised results of his suffering. By the end, you see that Jesus’ quote of Psalm 22 is really an expression of the hope of “all the families of the nations,” and the deliverance of listening Israel.

Psalm 22 was written by David. One of the major things to understand about David is the way he spoke to God about his own struggles, and the mature understanding David had of the way faith works. As he does in the many psalms like this one, David starts off by expressing the present state of his heart. He’s struggling. The things his eyes see don’t agree with the promises of God. It’s like Abraham, living in the land of his own inheritance, as in a foreign land, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, fellow heirs of the same promise. God promised Abe the land, but it looks like he’s a foreigner. God has promised never to forsake David, but circumstances present David as abandoned by God. David exposes his heart to God, “God, this is how I feel. This situation is telling me I’ve been abandoned, and I’m having a hard time not believing it.”

However, David doesn’t stop there. He moves on to affirm the promises of God. He invests his faith in the truth. Check out verses three through five. David is running to the history of his people, who were faced with similar tests of faith, and he is able to see that God was always faithful to them. He’s stirring up the same trust his fathers had, and hoping in the same deliverance.

David follows this pattern over and over in Psalm 22. By the end, you see the strong position of faith he has achieved. Jesus is doing something similar. He’s acknowledging the difficult situation, and he’s investing his faith in the promises of his Father. This displays intense vulnerability and intimacy, not distance.

It’s difficult to argue that Jesus is separate from his Father, if you take Psalm 22 as a whole.