my careless contagion

My favorite dog (a chihuahua) on TikTok recently passed away. I was filled with grief for the little creature and her people. Dogs mean a lot to mankind, and have for eons. They are wonderful animals, and earned the distinction "man's best friend" for a reason. We all know that. Here are some conclusions I came to about dogs, and there is a human application, as well, if you're so inclined.  For my work, I'm often in people's backyards, so naturally meet a lot of dogs. I think about them a lot. One principle is people's perception of their animals versus a stranger's perception. How many times was I told, "Oh, he's nice," only to have a dog attempt to tear me limb from limb? There is a dichotomy in that. Dogs are a protective force, fierce when protecting their people. It's their job. Always was, though we don't need them much for that anymore. They are loyal and gentle with their own but brutal toward outsiders. I qualify as an o...

I'm going to share something briefly. It has been on my heart for a long time, longer than this blog has existed. I haven't shared much of my spiritual journey. But I've taken a hard line in the spirit world, which has generated a lot of energy around (and in) me. I've gathered a lot of spiritual opposition over the years because I am faithful to pray against the devil's plans. I am a warrior. This makes me a marked man, unfortunately. Recently, I asked a friend why my life has been so difficult, going way back, and they replied, "Because you are marked." They get it. But there is more. Jesus Christ was anointed with the oil of gladness above all His fellows, which means He was the happiest man to walk the earth. My fasting recently is directed at what is blocking my life from moving forward. I felt heavy resistance for years. Bondage. Oppression. Unhappiness. It might be something in me or some sort of spiritual oppression around me. Or both. The devil wi...

Recently, I was sad to hear of the suicide death of Daisy Coleman, who was featured in the Netflix documentary Audrie & Daisy (2016). Audrie Pott killed herself in 2012, so both the girls are now dead. I recall watching the film and some themes stuck with me, which I will discuss. These girls were sexually assaulted, then victim-blamed and further traumatized by their communities after the fact. If you want to know the whole story, you can watch the documentary or read more online. The death of Daisy effectively ends this story, but it also brings up a lot of questions.  Audrie Pott Sexual assault is as old as the world. It's the image of a caveman bonking a girl on the head and dragging her back to his cave. We see it in King David's family (actually, his family was rife with sexual sins of all sorts), where Amnon raped his half-sister Tamar. The characteristic rapist progression is obsession followed by consummation, followed by disgust. We saw the same thing pl...

Some of McCook's bricked streets. A lot of Nebraska towns have these. I took all the pictures for this post. McCook, Nebraska, was where I attended college (the first time) for two semesters in 1996-97. It has a little community college which my high school guidance counselor suggested I apply for an academic full-ride scholarship to attend. The classes were cheap as hell, so I could have attended anyway, but it was nice to have everything paid. McCook Community College is part of the Midplains Community College system. At least, it was back then. This town was the first stop on my retrospective. A lot happened in the short time I lived in this town. After two semesters, I saw my bravado reduced by a personal crisis to a complete lack of self-esteem. When my parents announced they were moving to another state, I decided to hitch a ride with them out of Nebraska as opposed to trying to figure out what the hell I was going through. This was a crucial decision, a decision in ...

Divorce changed me. I mean, that was the point. It was supposed to change my life, but something else happened along the way.  It's been more than six years (seven years?) since I first breathed those words out, "I'm going to leave you," to my now ex-wife. The things I've gone through in that time — first trying to save the sinking ship of my marriage and then setting the damn thing on fire — have penetrated into the very core of my being. There are phases of grief. We all know that. You don't really think about them as you're going through them, though; you just don't have that kind of perspective. It's not a linear process, but a back and forth, messy thing sometimes. But, after six years of having a heart "like a crime scene," today I feel at peace.  A divorce is like a war, but a war no one wins. It doesn't matter who came out better in the end. It doesn't matter what was lost or who got the couch (I still miss that c...

Recently, I realized I’ve been back in the Black Hills for five years now. Though I was born in the Black Hills, this second time living here has been quite a different experience. When my family moved away from the Hills, I was 10 years old, a far cry from the 36-year-old man who moved here five years ago. Coming back to the Hills was about starting over. I sought a different life as well as a reboot for my marriage. Though I succeeded in living a different kind of life — a life new and challenging — my marriage continued to falter and eventually ended. It’s hard to put into words what happens when a relationship that’s persisted for more than 20 years ends. It’s safe to say I plunged headlong into a vortex of depression, a depression unlike any I’ve ever experienced.  The last five years have not been defined by sadness, though. About four and a half years ago, one of the most amazing things — something I thought would never happen — strode into my life. I became a father....

The opening line of Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence comes to me often. Hello, darkness, my old friend ... This old song no doubt means many things to many people. And that opening line means something to me as well. It means, "Here we go again."  It's hard to fully express what it means to be prone to depression. Looking back on my four decades of life, I see a lot of prominent themes. But the thick vein of depression runs through it all. I don't know when it took hold, but it's been there as long as I can remember. It is an old friend of the worst kind.  I don't want to be depressed. I don't choose this. I don't want to waste endless days simply wishing I could climb out of whatever funk I'm in. All the people who have come and gone in my life I certainly can't blame for this. I'm depressed, no matter who is in my life. Sure, certain circumstances haven't helped. And alcohol just made the whole thing worse. How I...

The future starts in our minds.  We have the most wonderful faculty between our ears — our imagination — that allows us to create, solve problems, and sometimes literally see into the future.  The future of me is a bleak prospect. I have endured tremendous setbacks and unimaginable pain in the last few years (with no one to blame but myself). As I lick my wounds, it's almost too easy to try to imagine my way out of this small place in which I've found myself. This is the key to my survival. I have to imagine a better future for myself and then believe in it.  There was a time in my nascent youth when I loved to draw. My artistic abilities were slightly above average, but I didn't pursue drawing because I saw a future in it. I just loved it. And all drawings start with a sketch, a few tentative lines at first and then bolder as the image takes shape. Before anything is put down on paper, however, it starts in the artist's imagination. The future of me is a bla...

There's something wrong with me. Besides the obvious, I mean.  I've hesitated to write this post for a long time, the reason being I don't have the wherewithal to understand what is wrong. So, this is an exploratory post. I hope that by releasing my thoughts about this I will understand what's happening. By the time I put the final period on this page, I will know more than I do now.  I was going to write this post Sunday (who knows when I'll post it) but decided to go for a hike instead. I put my hunting gear on just in case. Turns out I made the right decision, as I bagged one of the largest whitetail bucks I've ever had the opportunity to hunt. The fact that I walked away from writing this tells me two things: 1) I'm putting less of my life on this blog, which is good because I'm actually living my life, and 2) I'm scared of writing this post, which is odd for me because I favor finding the truth in everything.  This is an uncomfor...