Do you ever find yourself within a whirlwind of thoughts that is hard to grasp? You know it is big, though you do not know exactly what it is. You even want to capture it all down so that maybe when you continue down the forest path, you can wrestle with the ideas and find the light. Yet, you do not know you can bring the abstract down into the concrete. My mind has been under a flutter of activity, considering systems of thought, systems of how we approach life, how to live the best kind of life. I have written and continue to write about veganism, materialism, and automobile usage. I write this all within the scope of being a disciple of Jesus, a follower of the way, the way of living. Rejecting the religious systems of man, I so passionately yearn to live the best kind of life. The best kind of life neither involves new, shiny widgets nor the pursuit of happiness, for such a pursuit focuses on "to do" rather than "to be."

When do we find ourselves to be the most alive? It can be found when we are sharing carefree banter with close friends within a warm glow from the night or creating with our hands the works of the abstract or molding the clay of the tangible, or even surveying a grand display of natural beauty that is much larger than ourselves. These are the moments with which we are fully present, in tune with our surroundings and who we are.

When do we find ourselves so far from Eden? It includes those moments where we are alone within a crowded room or mesmerized by the flickering of a screen synced with the incessant soundtrack of recorded laughter or when we are locked behind the familiar, glass bars of rush hour traffic.

I look at our society and what do I see? Activities that kill something beautiful. It is much more wide spread than trumping off into a forest wearing ridiculous garb in some sort of fruitless pursuit of shallow manhood to kill Bambi or the much more sinister industry of literally driving Bambi crazy and selling it to the masses. It is much more than the spread of asphalt, consuming that which was gentle, to support the infrastructure of the faceless, aggressive, inefficient, living rooms on wheels. No, it is more than these that kill something beautiful. When I look at society, I see activities that kill us, striking us down from the lives we were meant to live, and the people we were meant to be.

We live in an artificial world, out of tune with reality and have become our own captors, while not even knowing it. When we have a brief glimpse of the greater, we shove the pain away with a pizza and a six-pack. We have become our own Miniver Cheevy's. You probably recall the poem of E.A. Robinson's dealing with Miniver's longing to a part of something bigger, yet being limited to a vision of the past.

Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.
...
Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.

(excerpt from Miniver Cheevy)