Without you, Jesus, we come to the world to die. With you, Jesus, we die to be born again (De Unamuno)

I am a man of regimented shadows. Each shade reflects a different form as subtle as the quality of light on a sunny day. In the morning, I'm usually grumpy, quite hard to wake up. As any of my five siblings could tell you, it's like waking up some monster. (Fav monster:  Frankenstein). As I stumble across the room, which usually has so much junk on the floor no matter how clean it is, I usually end up stubbing a toe. I curse and moan, until an angel, probably my mom or sister, places a cup of something into my mouth/ ear.

"Good morning, Geoff. How are you?"

How can you argue with a smile?

It's just like the Biblical adage: Want to do something really bad to those who hate you? Do something nice. Its like pouring hot coals onto their heads. Worse and yet obviously better than treating them badly.

I know I sound like a paraplegic already (put something into my mouth was just what came out of me then, perhaps a foreshadowing of what will happen to me if I dont stretch my legs and take a break from this here computer- there, took a break, better), but it's only socially and not physically that I have a real problem relating others. Though it may not seem that way on the surface, deep down inside I'm terrified. Scared of being rejected because of what I write (far worse than because of what I do, which is currently working as the book police at the local library).

I want to speak of love, yet it turns out that oftentimes I hate to do it, much preferring instead like the majority of writers out there to deal with the darker parts of human nature, which is sinful, fallen and corrupt.

I think this is why I so often feel like the bifurcation (one of my fav words) or split between the halves of my brain extends outward and downward through my body, splitting me literally in two. Sometimes I even think it extends into my soul.

If this sounds familiar, here's the German poet Goethe's version of it as he says it in his must-read masterpiece "Faust":

Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach!, in meiner Brust!

(Two souls live, oh! In my breast!)

Its enough for me to acknowledge this; its quite another to live it out when we all know- those of us who are Christian, at least- that one of the two is in bad need of a man named Jesus, who happens to be the only begotten Son of God.

What I say to the above expression is this: Oil and vinegar don't mix, except in salads. So what should we do? Go to Jesus and ask.