While I wait

  
While I wait

A day passes me by
I sit and stare
Sometimes at the sky
While I wait
I lose sight of once was
For that time has moved on
As life so does
While I wait
My skin loosens
My hair greys
My eyes lose their glisten
My soul its play
While I wait
I watch those happy to be content
They choose to engage
They pay life’s rent
While I wait
I clutch the monotony
The worlds feeble gray
Within a foggy symphony
Of doubt
While I wait
My mind comes to me
It speaks again of childhood dreams
And what could be
I listen
I imagine
I move
Why not?
While I wait

Adam Houle

Photo by Adam Houle

Ice and Steel

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Ice and steel
A coldness alike
A Slippery slope
A fretful fight
The rubber doesn’t meet the road
Direction goes where it may
A battle of skill and might
To live through a winters day
Ice and steel
No forgiveness to give
You bleed but don’t feel
Anything along the way
The sky is blinding white
The earth is pitch black
Ice and steel
The only way back

Adam Houle
All Photos by Adam Houle

The bible-real or fake?

I am not surprised at the deconstruction of the bible during this time of increasing knowledge. As history accumulates into one vault and the origins of historic values are revealed, I see morality and belief driven to dissipation. I believe the religious leaders do in fact, have the majority of the bibles interpretation wrong. History has proven that and so does this current state of humanistic existence. I believe Christian leaders base their belief system off a fear driven catalyst. But its no surprise there, those without the spirit of God are driven by their own fears. Their own egos. Their own desires. Conviction is a morality that is reserved between creator and creation. Not a blanket policy to be pounded onto the mass to force submission to the god of religion.
Is the bible from God or man?
First let me ask, who is man to question God? We are reminded of this in the account of Job. Who by every account, questioned God and the law. The fact of this matter is that the words acquired by the Hebrews are alive and powerful today. Were they written by man? Yes. Are they imperfect accounts? Yes. Let me ask this, by who’s account are we faulting them? Mans? or Gods? God exists in spirit, and we rarely visit the cusp of that realm. How can we know the mind of God? How can we interpret His voice or mind? We couldn’t even exist if He spoke. I believe this book is an account of the few men who barely visited the edge of the spirit of an everlasting fire, it is only a hint of the truth.
Knowledge and science has revealed the vastness of this creation we live in, and we can’t even understand the earth and its mysteries fully, how then can our pride dare to lead us into infinite knowledge with all the answers of things unseen and unrevealed?
I’d say only the foolish go down that road.
People over history miss-use everything. Humans destroy life. Our only creations are for the sole benefit of self, to glorify self, and such is the belief system of most Christians over history. Even the disciples expounded, interpreted and expanded the teachings of Christ. From the beginning of the gift of that Divine life, from the moment His story was placed into the hands of man, it has evolved. The allowance of the Christ’s spirit to fully envelope one’s being is a rarity among men. For instance, try to let someone call you a name, or cut you off, or punch you in the stomach without getting angry. Let some steal all your money and don’t take them to court. In fact go over with a fully cooked meal and serve them dinner. Forgive the person who breaks your heart. Do something kind for your ex when they rip the trust of your child away from you. Go visit a murderer in prison and listen to their story. This is the Christ. This is His love and testimony.
The bible is a collection of some of the oldest texts in the history of mankind and they are more relevant today than ever. It’s uncanny to look at the mirror established so long ago, and the reflection is so clear. I believe it is the mist of the truth that we are allowed to see. And if we seek the spirit of God, the spirit of Christ’s testimony, we can see. We can see the truths Christ desperately tried to teach us. Past the point of death.
Has Christianity as a whole missed the mark throughout the years. ABSOLUTELY 100% YES! Jesus said “I say to you, even if you call your brother a fool, you are guilty of murder.” And how many have Christians have literally murdered many over the years in the name of Christ? Millions. Recently, American Indians.
Sure humanity can debate the sovereignty of the words in that book, but how could they argue with them? Is not man created perfect, yet he has immeasurable imperfections? So would be true with a book composed of all the writings of man and his experience with the Creator. Our account of the creators ways are often flawed by our own bias. Does that mean the bible isn’t composed by Gods spirit in man? Read it and find out for yourself! But I urge people to not take sound bites and blogs and create the world around themselves to suit their own bias. For really, what can you create? What do you have control over? Can we evolve into gods ourselves? How? We can’t even lay hold of the spirit of a man! We can only try to elevate ourselves into a realm we are not qualified for.

The bible. Is it the truth? Is it the truth we think it is? The truth set forth by its scholars?

The words in it set some men free, others it imprisons. If the bible were a dead farce, there would be NO debate.

Adam

Heeyy Cuuzzzz!

Cousin It
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“Heeeey Cuuuzzzzz! What’s happening man?!”
Her voice is shrill and nasally. It’s incredible that it booms with such vibrant power. She is 4’9″, and draws all eyes in a room onto her petite frame. She stands as a giant. She is different and knows it.
As I, she was adopted and never quite fit perfectly into the family. As children we were drawn together at family functions to appease our not-so-mainstream ideals. While the other kids were watching sports, we were break dancing on cardboard to Michael Jackson. While they were playing Atari we were building legitimate tepees and forts. Cowboys and Indians always worked out well as she is of Mexican/Indian decent and well, Ya, I’m a cowboy. We shared a love for art, painting and making sculptures out of the mud from the olive grove. Painting Indian symbols on whitewashed walnut tree trunks with rotten walnut husks and black olives. Running through the fields with adventure and creativity brimming. It was one of the times I felt so alive and carefree. I was free to create, to be myself.
30 years later we have grown and lived our lives distanced. We come together for gatherings and maintain phone convo’s ever so often. She is still the same. People are shocked at times by her refusal to conform. I catch bewildered stares, stolen glances of awe. How could she not conform? How could she color her hair that color at that age? Tattoos on her chest? She plays the violin for a biker church…omg. They don’t relate, they can’t. It’s uncomfortable. But THAT is what I love about her! Good or bad, right or wrong, she is living regardless of what the herd is doing. Even after all this time I still admire my cuz for who she is and what she stands for in this life. I admire her strength to stand alone. She always shares her paintings and tattoos she done recently, it’s hard to look past her to the art she creates. She is the art, and I am lucky to see it.

Salad days Inspiring ways

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It seems that my salad days are more than a toss of choice green cuts with a tantalizing additions of colorful toppings.
Yes these salad days are a painting of carefully grated Parmesan cheese, bright bell peppers, laying next to ripe, rich tomatoes. Mozzarella.
These days afford the sound of a sharp blade landing onto an applewood cutting board . The rasp of a pepper grinder and the rise of its work. The smell of fresh garlic blending with ripe red onions.
It’s the taste of deep red wine washing in these aromas and sensations as the masterpiece is created. It’s the breeze blowing through the house carrying the songs of birds and life. Swirling aromas, sights, sounds into one vast experience.
This is all cemented with sourdough, crisped and colored by an oven fire. Softened by sweet butter and speckled with minced garlic.
Salad days are the melody of art, inspiration, and life, all brought together with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and red wine.
The sounds, the smells, the textures. Such a simple pleasure that thrusts one so close to a sensory paradise.
These salad days.

You hurt me…

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You hurt me…

We have all experienced it.
It happens daily I’m sure.
I wonder why.
In a world with smart phones, iPads and computers, it is virtually impossible to be unreachable. Unless intentionally. I don’t know about you but I am weary of excuses, diversions and blatant lies.
It’s amazing how many texts, calls and emails are ignored and put off.
“I didn’t get your call/text..”
“I was asleep..”
“I didn’t get your voicemail…”
“I forgot..”
The worst is when you are completely ignored by a loved one you know is available.
I totally understand being busy and in the middle of something. Yet what you are telling me is;
” I don’t respect you or trust you enough to tell you the truth.”
“You are not important to me.”
“I could really care less about you.” That’s all I hear when I hear the excuses I didn’t even ask for.
Personally I’m a person who tries to answer everyone’s call or text. I miss some. Most of the time I’m able to reply in less than an hour. My conscience won’t allow me to go much longer.
So why do I feel like I am alone here?
Why is it I am available to everyone most hrs a day and they are available…ummm for 2 sec to send a 7 character text, if that?
Then suddenly are gone!
Bye-bye!! ADIOS!!
I wish they would at least write “bye”, then I would know they didn’t run into an overpass pole at 75 mph while texting.
I’ve heard people complain about texting with someone then calling right after only to get the voicemail. This happens to me all the time. It’s like..
” Umm we were just texting for 5 minutes… and I call because it’s easier to just talk! Where did you go??”
Oh not for you?
Hmmm why is that?
Why are people hiding?
What’s happened to communication? Oh it’s challenging?
It’s not always what you want to hear? I offend you?
Then why am I in your circle?
Fill me in please!

Confrontation.
Communication.
Interaction.
Reality.

Seems these words are what people are avoiding.
If I’m not making you feel good all the time, I’m not worth your time.
When was the last time you called me to see how I was doing?
When was the last time you invited me over for dinner?
When was the last time you sent a text to say you were thinking of me?
Do you even know what’s happening in my life?

I know everything about yours!

I’m positive I’m not alone here.

In fact I think we are all alone here.

Gone are the days of handwritten letters, un-rushed phone calls or even returned calls. Texts. Emails…
Of course I’m guilty here also, but I’m trying with everything I have to love others like I want to be loved.
Is it me?
Am I alone here? No I believe not.

Seems the more connected we are the less communication we have.
Sad.
It makes me want to give in also. To say ” The hell with it!! I’m done with the hurts, and all these selfish, self- focused people!!”
Yet then I would be giving in to the same thing that has overtaken those who hide behind electronics.
I won’t do it.
I refuse.
I love you.
I’m here for you, always will be.

Today the text you missed said this,
“You hurt me.”

I forgive you.

The Marriage Penitentiary

Click Here to Watch

Besides being entertaining this short film touches on how sometimes marriage can get people into a lifestyle of aggression. Somewhere along the path selfless love got replaced with selfish gain.
It becomes almost impossible to see from the inside what the picture of the two hearts looks like from the outside. Usually both are hurting. Aching for needs, wants and desires to be filled. The result is two people constantly competing for their heart food, and both are left starving.
My hope with this short is that it resonates in the hearts of hurting, despondent couples. Maybe they can find their way back to a giving selfless relationship. Maybe this will ignite the spark needed to go talk with someone together to obtain the tools to move forward. As One.

Thanks for watching.
Love first, Live Well.

Adam Houle

Poisoned Center

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I saw a beautiful flower
Yet death was at its core
I pondered the power
And the pull of it’s lure

Reflection – Some Relationship’s are like a flower. They can be beautiful, fragile and at times have the most wonderful fragrance of love. Yet sometimes there’s death awaiting as you get closer to the center of a person.
It may not be noticeable at first, blending silently within the wondrous picture of words and experience. As you study the lines more, a new picture unveils. One not so warm and be holding. One with a trap of selfishness and deceit.
Mockery lies, contempt, bitterness, egotistical narcissism, self centered bias, are just some of it’s poisons. It’s revealed in many ways.
These people claim love, admiration, dedication with a delicious tongue, and with the same mouth delivered a venomous bite of lies and betrayal. This is speckled with the pollen of greed. Greed to make oneself look better. Savage survival. And for what? The ability to claim the title of victim or betterment?
We are all the victims of their traps. Their constant luring into betrayal. They entice to destroy, to feed their need to sustain their presumed beauty.
Oh that people would let go of their needs to gorge on the strength of others. That they would put away their traps for the generous hearts. I wish they would accept their beauty as it is, and let go of their tools of destruction. For then the picture left would be perfect and true.
Put away the hate and deceit. Put away the death of bitterness. Walk in the beauty you were created to be. For these tools of madness, lead to an empty eternity.

Adam Houle

I can’t say I understand

 

I can’t say that I understand.

Nor in all honesty would I dare to try.

Yet you boldly face every day with hope.

Hope to understand.

Hope to fit the scattered pieces into something recognizable.

Hope to make it though the piercing day.

 

You hope.

 

I can’t say that I understand.

How you boldly face every memory and loss.

You hold your bleeding, pulsating heart in your hands for the world to see.

Not that you ripped it from your chest.

Because No.

It was thrust there by callused hands.

The very hands that stole the breath from the life you gave.

 

Those wicked hands.

 

I can’t say I understand.

How you boldly visit that day everyday.

You stand down the hall.

Near the door.

Sitting on the edge of the bed.

You stay there to the end.

And as your soul pours forth and begs for a different way you gather yourself and prepare for the next day.

 

Day after wicked day.

 

I can’t say I understand.

The empty words.

The looks given to you by those you know.

Their shallowness proceeds them as a shadow at sundown.

Selfishness giving away their emptiness.

Almost as if you were supposed to fill their voids with the very answers you seek.

 

Those evasive answers.

 

I can’t say I understand.

By what strength you give continually.

But you do.

It’s your nature.

You fulfill His word by loving those who take and steal.

And you do so more than any.

 

You’re real.

 

I can’t say that I understand life the way you’ve come to.

I don’t know that I could be so bold.

The path you’ve walked few would dare and many would quite.

You have fought fiercely.

Even for your next breath which is more than most would do.

 

You’ve fought.

 

I can’t say I understand.

I try.

 

Adam Houle

 

1/3/13- To Jaime and Fred- Survivors of a murdered child-Elizabeth-The Rose. I hope for healing daily.