This Christmas

As a people, I think that we've become so servant that we're stupid. We spend so much time looking for reasons that we often miss the event.
In the last few years, I've been hearing more and more people argue and debate what Christmas really is. Some say it's a celebration of the Son God. Some say that it's the winter solstice. Others say it's a Pagan holiday because people are worshiping the fictitious character of Ol' Saint nick and the gift giving process. And the major argument is that "Jesus wasn't even born in the winter, He was born in the spring!"
My question is "Does it even matter?" Sure, I believe in Jesus Christ. I was raised Catholic. but that's not why I love the holidays. I love the holiday season because I came from a large family. We eat, we laugh, we play, we give.....we live. I love the holidays because its a magical dime of year. At no other time do people come together, give so freely, do good for the sake of doing good, wish others well, and actively observe the preserve of love like they during the holiday season.
I was allowed to believe in Santa and I thank my mother for that. Although I now know that my mom was up all night putting bikes together and wrapping presents, back then, I left out milk and cookies, behaved during church, and hoped that Santa could make it down our chimney with out burning himself. There was nothing like waking up Christmas morning full of anticipation and wonder! I thank my mother for not robbing me of that magic that only comes this time of year. Furthermore, I was humbled and moved to compassion by the story of Baby Jesus. So what if His actual date of birth was in the spring? it's the celebration that matters.
This holiday season worry less about the reason if the reason bothers you and just be grateful for the moment. Give, Live and Love

Best Wishes,
Jason

Peace of Mind through a Psalm

February 20, 2012

My dear lady, you are so overdue for me to pour my heart out.  Yes, the shoulder still aches some but it’s much better.  I should have never tried that stupid exercise.

The weather is still mild, chilly but comfortable enough when I crawl under my blanket.  I’m not complaining.  I’d much rather this slight chill than the sweltering heat of the summer.  Unfortunately, the next major lockdown should fall right in the hottest part of the summer.  I’ll endure that when I get to it.

So far we’ve been locked down since the seventh and we probably won’t be done until the fifth of March.  Yeah, because of the warden, it takes him a month to do what should only take two weeks, then they don’t find half of the phones or knives.  It’s just going through the motions.  They already shook down my cellblock though, so I’m alright.  Still have food, paper, books…

My biggest pain has been this Viking that I live with.  This dude hasn’t brushed his teeth once.  Not one time.  But it’s not his breath that bothers me.  His body odor is….unreal!  He sleeps wrapped up in his coat.  It’s not that cold.  He sweats for 9-10 hours, sometimes more, then pops from under the coat smelling like spoiled cabbage and onions!  Not cool.  I’ve been tempted to take that coat and throw it out of the cell.  Been biting my tongue.  I want to ask how he does not smell that rank, putrid funk.  Seriously, it’s got a four foot reach,  Don’t laugh, it’s bad.  You know how wild animals smell?  That musty, wild, overbearing stink used to warn other animals of their presence?  It’s like that.  He’s just a little boy, though.  Lord bless him.  Like we’ve become accustomed to saying, prison is not supposed to be pleasant, all the more reason to get out and stay out.  I’ll leave this to the so called, gangsters and funky dogs. 

The writing is coming along.  Not forcing it, just letting it flow.  Really, it’s good that you are so busy.  Also been working on recipes.  Wish that I was where I could try them and tweak them to perfection.  How does a marinated grilled chicken breast, stuffed mushrooms, red onions, Monterey pepper jack and Colby cheese, lettuce, beefy tomatoes, thin sliced jalapenos, sliced avocados, two crispy slab slices of bacon, chipotle salad dressing, honey mustard on grilled sourdough (with a teaspoon of the chicken breast drippings spooned on the breast before closing the sandwich) sound?  With a serving of seasoned yam fries and pickles on the side.

Honest to God, I cannot wait to get out of here, run the sun up, shower, work all day, come home, experiment, test my recipes, photograph the finished products, then feed my neighbors in exchange for feedback.  I hate being out of practice, out of the industry.

More and more, I’m considering making the move the Hughes unit to go through the college culinary arts course.  Of course, I love my job now and to leave would break the old lady’s heart.  I’m tired of moving and readjusting, starting over.  I’ve earned a reputation as a gentleman here.  Then more than likely, after I complete the course, Beto will want me back to cook for them and I do not work for slackers.  This food service department sucks.  I want free reign and nurturing of my talents.  We’ll see.

I should have started writing earlier.  I had every intention of writing you one of those good, long cards on the table letters but I’ve got to sort of rush this on so I can make sure that it goes out in the morning.  These officers don’t do much and they don’t want to do the little that they do.

Mainly, what I wanted to say was that I love you!  Sometimes, I may not say it enough, but I need you to know that you’ve touched my life in so many ways and all of them positive.  It’s hard to put into words.  You’ve filled so many voids in my life, played a major part in bringing me out of the doldrums that I was lingering in.  There truly must have been an angel by my side…I can never than you enough!

I was reading A Sparrow Falls and I stopped to think about all you’ve done for me.  You are my angel.

Also, I know you are swamped, but I want you honest opinion, do you think When Hell Freezes Over is good enough to continue and follow through?  I have other stories, but I’m torn between finishing something and starting something fresh.

Everybody keep telling me to push the first one, but I still feel that it would need too much editing, too much cutting to make it respectable.  It’s good….it’s just too raw and I don’t want to go that route, not when I can do better.

You opinion means a lot to me.  And it’s not that I’m in a rush to get something printed, but I feel the need to complete something.  I’m sitting on several short stories and about twelve started novels.

The letters to my children continue to be positive.  Some days it’s just too hard to write them, but other days I just open up and go.

The meal you described sounded mouthwatering! Mmmm!  One day.  I’ll have to send you this recipe I cut out of a magazine for a pork roast.  It looks delicious.

Africa is in your sights, huh?  So cool!  I know you guys are going to have a blast.

Speaking of Africa, it seems that each Wilbur Smith book gets better.  I really liked this last one, but I was so glad when Dirk Courtney died, although the deaths of Ruth and Sean hurt me deeply.  I’m preparing to start Birds of Prey, perhaps tonight.

Well you know you are in my heart, in my thoughts and in my prayers!

Love,

ESSAY - Understanding Autumn

Let it go.

No, really, let it go…because I have.

And what good does it do for us to hold on to our mistakes once we’ve learned our lessons?  Understand.  Understand that I indeed tortured myself, clutching the profound stupdity of my errors to my soul with the white, bloodless fingers of my regret, replaying every minute of detail of the “what was” and grievously mourning for the loss of “what could have been.”

And then…and then…when at last it seemed I’d reached my end, a message from God sought me out through a friend.  Psalm 37, verses 8-9 said that “anger and worry” were a waste of my time.  So I gave Him my problems and I gained peace of mind, of the kind that’s so cleansing that I laughed out loud and clear, didn’t care who was listening, didn’t care who may hear.  With a smile ear to ear, I knew that I had grown, and in order to grow, one must set free their wrongs, shed them like golden-brown leaves from a tree, as the seasons bring change…autumn lives within me.

You would have to be me…to see what I saw…to feel what I feel, unblemished and raw.  For love is not meant to keep secret and hidden, it too should be freed and uncovered, unbidden.  So I did what my heart said, for my heart knows no rules, to put boundaries on love is the doctrine of fools.

If love is a crime, forever I’ll be imprisoned, criticized for compassion, ridiculed for my vision.  Don’t you see the division of the body and soul, how we’re taught to love less and less as we grow old?  Like the first bitter winds of winter…hate dwells where once was…and cold fills the void in men who’ve long lost love.

I refuse.

Yes I choose to love you, and love him, and love her and love me, and love they and love them!  I will swim on love’s currents in the ebb and the flow, and soar past the boundaries that my heart doesn’t know.  I’ll live as God sees fit, not by man’s hindered plans.  And if ever you’ve loved me, surely you understand?

Understand that I’ve changed, and for the better, because where there once was so much hatred, now there is only love.  Where there once was resentment, now there is contentment.  Where there for too long were problems, now there is potential.

Do not hold it against me that I still “feel” even in this place of bricks and stone, iron and rust, disgust and mistrust.  Instead, be joyful that I still “feel” in spite of it.

ONE