Thursday, June 30, 2011

2011-06-30 Poetry, Songs, Psalms 23 version 2

Or, if we wanted to sing it to the tune of
"Away in a Manger," we would need another line
for each verse. For example:

The Lord is my shepherd, there's nothing I need.
He lets me lie down in green pastures to feed.
And ever, beside the still water, He leads.
The Lord is my shepherd, there's nothing I need.

He strengthens my soul and brings joy to my heart.
He leads me in ways that are right, from the start.
There's naught in this world that can keep us apart.
He strengthens my soul and brings joy to my heart.

And yes! Though I walk through the shadow of death,
And You are within me --- I breathe with Your breath ---
No evil can make me afraid or lose faith.
With You, I can walk through the shadow of death.

Your rod and Your staff are a comfort to me.
You give me a feast --- make my enemies flee.
With oil, You anoint me as king --- even me.
Your rod and Your staff are a comfort to me.

My cup overflows with the goodness You gave.
Your mercy shall follow me down through the grave,
And I shall reside in the house of Your love.
Forever and ever, with You I am saved.

Write well,
Logan

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

2011-06-29 Poetry Songs --- From Psalms 23

From the 23rd Psalm ---

The Lord is my shepherd, there's nothing I need.
He lets me lie down in new pastures to feed.
And ever, beside the still water, He leads.

He strengthens my soul and sings joy in my heart.
He leads me in ways that are right, from the start.
There's naught in this world that can keep us apart.

And yes! Though I walk through the shadow of death,
And You are within me --- I breathe with Your breath ---
No evil can make me afraid or lose faith.

Your rod and Your staff are a comfort to me.
You gave me a feast --- made my enemies flee.
With oil, You anointed me king --- even me.

My cup overflows with the goodness You gave.
Your mercy shall follow me down through the grave,
And I shall reside in the house of Your love.

Forever and ever, amen and amen,
I still will reside in the house of Your love.
Forever and ever, amen and amen.

Sleep Well,
Logan

Monday, June 27, 2011

2011-06-27 Reading, Oopsies

An oopsie is a mistake in the story. An anachronism would be an oopsie, but a typo or spelling error would not. I sent the following list to Liz Braswell, author of "The Nine Lives of Chloe King," now showing on the Disney Family Channel. She had graciously replied to my email about a small oopsie in her first book of the series.

----------------------

Many good authors have an oopsie or two in their books. I'm kind of starting to collect them.

I have two by J.K. Rowling which have already been corrected in the latest editions. In the first volume, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," Nearly Headless Nick (the ghost) said that he had not had anything to eat in almost "400" years (later corrected to "500"); but in volume two, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," NHN has his 500th death-day party. In volume 4, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," The Ghost-echoes of Harry's Father and Mother came out of Voldemort's wand in that order, supposedly in the reverse order of their deaths, but they were actually killed in that order. In later editions the ghosts come out Mother and then Father. It was a really neat (tidy) piece of editing.

I have two oopsies by Caroline B. Cooney which have not yet been corrected. In her book, "The Voice on the Radio," Janey's boyfriend says he did not use last names when he broadcast her story over the radio, but when you look back at the broadcast dialog, he says both Janey Johnson at one time, and Jennie Spring another time. Then in her latest book, "Three Black Swans," she has the father saying he has not yet seen the (youtube) video, but he had actually looked at it when his wife sent it to him over the phone.

It may be debatable, but I think Jennifer Lynn Barnes had a couple of oopsies in her book, "Raised by Wolves." She has Bryn almost cutting her best friend's "Achilles heel" when it should have said, "Achilles tendon." She has Lake asking if Bryn wanted to see her put a "bullet" through a guy's coke (cup, using Matilda, her double-barreled shotgun when shotguns almost always shoot "shot" and not "bullets"). And she has Lake cocking the "trigger" of the shotgun, when it should have said cocking the "hammer."

I'm not complaining about the oopsies. It is pretty hard to make everything fit together perfectly. In my first book, "Life After Life," (which is Christian Fiction, and I don't even read Christian Fiction as a rule) I put a train stop on the wrong (east) side of the Hospital. I had to go back and change the directions to put it on the west side (because it is based on a real hospital, and a real transit stop, in a real city). So now the Amazon.com and Kindle versions are correct, but the Smashwords and Nook versions are still wrong.

--------------------------

In addition to the oopsies listed above, I now have a couple more.

This may be debatable, it hinges on whether the meaning of the word "car" includes a pickup "truck." Jennifer Lynn Barnes new book, "Trial by Fire," says on page 240 "I could feel Chase getting closer, moving faster ... Lake had loaned him her truck." But then on page 242 we read, "Chase waited for me to get in the car..." But to me, when I read "car" I picture a generic sedan, not a pickup truck. So, if "car" includes "truck" then this is not an oopsie, but a misinterpretation of the word on my part.

In the book, "Talking to Dragons," the fourth book in the Enchanted Forest series by Patricia C. Wrede, the paperback version, page 100 at the top says, "The King of the Dragons is whichever dragon can move Colin's Stone from the Vanishing Mountain to the Ford of the Whispering Snakes." But the first book in the series clearly says that it is "... from the Ford of the Whispering Snakes to the Vanishing Mountain." Not vice versa.

What was the oopsie in Liz Braswell's book, "The Nine Lives of Chloe King: The Fallen," now reprinted in your local bookstore? It is in the first chapter. Read the book and you'll find it. (Fair warning: the books contain some swearing.) By the way, that whole scene was not included in the new T.V. show.

Read well,
Logan

Saturday, June 11, 2011

2011-06-06 Reading, Loving What Is, The Verbally Abusive Relationship

"Loving What Is" versus "The Verbally Abusive Relationship," a review.
These two books, "Loving What Is," by Byron Katie and "The Verbally Abusive Relationship," by Patricia Evans, sometimes make the same point while being completely different. Both of these books make the point that you ought to concentrate on your own business, and not spend time and energy trying to run someone else's life. However, the world-view each author presents is completely different.

The book, "The Verbally Abusive Relationship," sets forth the premise that people usually operate from one of two realities which the author labels Reality I and Reality II. Reality I is defined by the point of view of trying to have Power Over other people; that relationships or discussions are a win-lose contest. Reality II is defined by the point of view of Personal Power, where two people may share with each other to come to win-win agreements. Reality I (Power Over) assumes that everyone is in a hierarchy of dominance. When people operating from the point of view of Reality II try to make sense of the attacks made by people operating from Reality I, the relationship can end up being a hell on earth. This book gives hundreds of examples of the kind of statements that might be made by people trying to win an argument over their partners.

The book, "Loving What Is," is perhaps too Buddhist for most people. The author states that all suffering is because people become too attached to their thoughts about the way the world or other people ought to be, or ought to behave, when, in fact, the world is not that way, and people are not behaving that way. The book presents a simple, step by step, dialog that allows the user to let go of those false ideas which cause them emotional pain. However, the author would deny that pain and suffering exist apart from our thoughts about it. While the book is invaluable in teaching people how to let go of their incorrect assumptions, thus freeing them to deal with the world as it really is; the book comes from the point of view that evil does not really exist, that the world is God unfolding in the way it ought to unfold, and our greatest problem is in not accepting it the way it is.

The value of "The Verbally Abusive Relationship" lies in showing that people do behave badly, and may be taught why that is wrong, and overcome it in the future. The weakness of "The Verbally Abusive Relationship," is that it does not explain in detail how one can come to have enough Personal Power from within their own point of view to counter the verbal abuse.

The value of "Loving What Is" lies in showing people how to discipline their own thinking to the point where they would not be confused or confounded by verbal abuse, or be very upset by it. It would give them the Personal Power mentioned in "The Verbally Abusive Relationship." The weakness of "Loving What Is," however, is that it goes too far in its denial that verbal abuse or other evil even exists except in your own emotional pain caused by your thoughts about it.

I would highly recommend that everyone, from grade school on up, read both of these books. And I would especially recommend that anyone who is involved in counseling other people should read both of these books. The ideas presented will give you a foundation for understanding why 95% of the people around you behave as they do. These books should be mandatory reading for all psychology courses.

Read well,
Logan

2011-03-05 Reading, Dreams Underfoot

From Charles de Lint's story, "Bridges," in the collection, "Dreams Underfoot."

She stepped outside and stopped dead in her tracks. Her earlier panic was mild in comparison to what she felt now as she stared ahead in disbelief.

Everything familiar was gone. Road, trees, hills — all gone. She wasn't in the same country anymore — wasn't in the country at all. A city like something out of an Escher painting lay spread out in front of her. Odd buildings, angles all awry, leaned against and pushed away from each other, all at the same time. Halfway up their lengths, there seemed to be a kind of vortal shift so that the top halves appeared to be reflections of the lower.

And then there were the bridges.

Everywhere she looked there were bridges. Bridges connecting the buildings, bridges connecting bridges, bridges that went nowhere, bridges that folded back on themselves so that you couldn't tell where they started or ended. Too many bridges to count.
. . .
"How can a place this weird be forgotten?" she asked.

Moira looked around at the bridges as she spoke. They were everywhere, of every size and shape and persuasion. One that looked like it belonged in a Japanese tea garden stood side by side with part of what had to be an interstate overpass, but somehow the latter didn't overshadow the former, although both their proportions were precise. She saw rope bridges, wooden bridges and old stone bridges ...

"The same way people forget their dreams," Jack replied.
. . .
"Do you live here?" she asked.

Jack shook his head. "But I'm here a lot. I deal in possibilities and that's what bridges are in a way — not so much the ones that already exist to take you from one side of something to another, but the kind we build for ourselves."

"What are you talking about?"

"Say you want to be an artist — a painter, perhaps. The bridge you build between when you don't know which end of the brush to hold to when you're doing respected work can include studying under another artist, experimenting on your own, whatever. You build the bridge and it either takes you where you want it to, or it doesn't."

"And if it doesn't?"

His teeth flashed in the moonlight. "Then you build another one and maybe another one until one of them does. ... But this," He added, "is a place of failed dreams. Where bridges that go nowhere find their end."

The story goes on, and becomes more interesting. But I began to wonder —

Every choice we make,
every step we take,
every hour we spend,
is a plank in the bridge we are building,
from the person we are,
to the person we will become.
The question is:
When we cross that bridge
and look at where we are,
will the steps we have taken —
the decisions we have made
and the hours we have spent —
have been steps on a bridge to nowhere?

2010-08-30 Reading, House Rules

House Rules.

Unlike the central character in this book, I do not have Asperger's Syndrome --- mostly.

Having read the first three sections of chapter one, about the mother, Emma, the older son with Asperger's, Jacob, and the normal son, Theo, I was thrown for a loop by a section labelled "Rich." I thought, "What?" and "Who's this?" And I kept flipping back through the beginning to figure out who this character was and what his connection was with the family. There was no connection. There was no relation. I just had to suck it up and let the author throw new and unrelated characters in front of me without any introduction. It didn't help that the second chapter jumped from Emma's and Theo's point of view to that of a totally new and unrelated character --- An incompetent lawyer called Oliver.

It completely does not help my understanding of the story when the font changes from serif, for Emma, to sans-serif for Theo, to semi-sans-serif for Jacob. There is no difference in the sans-serif between I and 1. And the capital I in the semi-sans-serif font looks exactly like a 1. So, when I saw 1EP, I couldn't figure out what it meant, and I kept flipping back through the pages looking for the explanation which did not come until much later in the book. (IEP = Individual Education Program).

It would have been extremely useful if the book had included a cast of characters at the beginning, listing all of the major character's names, and their relation with the other characters.

Write well,
Logan

2010-05-22 Science, Traffic 101 redone.

Traffic 101 redone

Have you ever wondered why the traffic is so slow on a freeway, when the freeway is where the traffic should be fast? Sitting at a dead-stop on the freeway, the meter in the on-ramp to your right flashes green, letting yet another car insert itself into the line of cars in front of you. It is flashing "go" every three seconds while the cars on the freeway next to the on-ramp are mostly stopped. Which brings up the question, "Is there an optimum number of cars which would maximize the throughput of traffic measured in Cars Per Minute (CPM)?"

Two things control the speed of traffic on a freeway. One is the average following distance in seconds (fds) from one car to the next, and the other is the density of traffic measured in cars per mile (cpm). If we use an average following distance of two seconds, assume each car is 12 feet long and have a density of 200 cars per mile, then the maximum speed of traffic is (5280/200 - 12)/2 = 7.2 feet-per-second. That is, the distance between cars in feet, divided by the two seconds the car travels, gives us the speed in feet per second. Because miles per hour is (ft/sec) * (3600sec/hr)/(5280ft/mil), 7.2 feet per second is 4.9 miles-per-hour.

The maximum number of Cars Per Minute (CPM) is absolutely limited by the following distance in seconds. If the fds is two seconds between cars then the number of Cars Per Minute must be less than 30. It does not matter if we make each car zero feet long and travel a hundred miles an hour, fewer than 30 cars per minute will pass any point on the road (in one lane) when the following distance between cars is two seconds each.

Cars Per Minute (CPM) may be calculated as cars-per-mile times miles-per-minute (which is feet-per-second times (60/5280)). The funny thing is, this ends up being the maximum CPM (100%) times the inverse percentage of cars-per-mile. That is, (60/fds) * (1 - cpm / 440). So, every additional 14.66 cars-per-mile is one less Car-Per-Minute of throughput until, at 440 cars per mile (for 12 foot long cars) we have a speed and throughput of zero. No cars can move because they are all bumper-touching-bumper.

fds | cpm | mph. | CPM
----------------------
2 | 025 | 68 | 28
2 | 030 | 56 | 28
2 | 050 | 32 | 27
2 | 100 | 14 | 23
2 | 150 | 8 | 20
2 | 200 | 5 | 16
2 | 250 | 3 | 13
2 | 300 | 2 | 10
2 | 440 | 0 | 0

What does the previous table show us? It shows us that the maximum available throughput for traffic is always achieved at the maximum available speed. The fewer number of cars per mile, the higher the CPM throughput. There is no optimum number of cars to maximize the CPM. It is just a matter of "the fewer the better" up to number of cars able to go the maximum posted speed.

Given a rush-hour density of 150 cars-per-mile for a 5-mile stretch of (one-lane) highway, for a time period of one hour, a total of 1950 cars will be on that road within that hour. At that density the throughput will be 20 Cars-Per-Minute at a speed of 8 miles per hour, and it will take 98 minutes to move all of those cars off of the road.

Given the same 1950 cars at a density of only 30 cars-per-mile, the cars will be traveling at 56 miles per hour and it will take only 70 minutes to move all of the cars off of the road. Or, given the same 98 minutes that we moved 1950 cars at the higher density of 150 cars-per-mile, we could move 2744 cars off of the road if the density were only 30 cars-per-mile.

Which brings us back to "metered" on-ramps. I would like to make the following suggestions:

· Every entrance to a freeway or section of freeway should be metered --- even when the entrance comes from another freeway. On a freeway, there could be holding zones controlled by timed signals which would allow the cars in the zone to turn their engines off for 10 minutes to save gas, before proceeding into the metered zone.

· Like modern "WALK" lights, the meters in the on-ramp should count down the seconds until the next green light. This gives the driver at the front of the line information about how long he will have to wait.

· On-ramp meters should be controlled by radar, measuring the speed of the traffic beside the on-ramp, not by a sensor in the road counting cars per hour. The "Ramp Meter Design Manual" for the state of California apparently uses "Passage Loops: Inductive loops placed downstream of the limit line to detect passing vehicles," to measure "VPH: Vehicles per hour." But VPH gives no clue about how fast the traffic is moving. It cannot tell the difference between light, fast traffic, and heavy, slow traffic. Either way, the VPH can be the same. Measuring actual traffic speed, if the traffic is moving as fast as the posted limit, then the meter may allow more cars to enter the freeway. This will automatically slow down the traffic.

· Metered on-ramps should be allowed to feed traffic into a freeway like a reverse version of water-rights owners pumping water out of a river. That is, each on-ramp should be assigned a specified amount of potential traffic space downstream from its entrance. Upstream on-ramps should not be allowed to fill up the freeway, preventing downstream on-ramps from using their assigned traffic space.

· Outside of each entrance to a metered on-ramp, far enough back where each driver could decide to change lanes and take an alternate route, there should be a sign in lights that says "(freeway) WAIT ## MIN." Like the signs at Disneyland queues which say, "the estimated wait from this point is ## minutes," a wait sign would give drivers the ability to choose how they want to travel to their destination. Do I want to enter the on-ramp and wait 15 minutes, knowing that once I'm on the freeway it will only be another 7 minutes to where I'm going? Or, do I decline to wait for 20 minutes, change lanes and take a local street, knowing I can get there in 25 minutes without using the freeway?

· What if there is more traffic wanting to get onto a freeway, than the best Cars-Per-Minute throughput will handle? In that case, the on-ramp meters should not allow them onto the freeway! If the CPM is already maxed out for the speed limit, allowing more cars into the freeway will overcrowd it, resulting in fewer Cars-Per-Minute throughput. Even if they have to wait 30 minutes to get onto the freeway, people will get to their destination sooner if the freeway is moving traffic at its maximum speed and number of Cars-Per-Minute.

2010-01-04 Words, Comic Book Christianity?

Comic Book Christianity?

Some Christians are like Superman. Superman puts on a disguise and pretends to be Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet. Like Superman, some Christians put on a disguise to hide the fact that they are Christians in the eyes of the world around them.

Some Christians are like Batman. Bruce Wayne, millionaire philanthropist by day, puts on a costume by night in order to appear as Batman, striking fear in the hearts of evil-doers. Like Batman, some people put on a mask of Christianity in public to make others believe that they are good Christians, but in private they do not behave like Christians.

We know that God wants us to be Christians both inside and out, day and night, every day of the week, every week of the year. Jesus said, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." But becoming a Christian both inside and out takes practice.

There is a saying in martial arts that it takes ten thousand repetitions for the body to learn to respond automatically. In the same way, Sanctification takes practice. The Bible does not assume that we are instantly mature Christians the moment we are baptised. It teaches us that we have to continue to practice doing good until we are truly good, both inside and out.

We read, "applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in moral excellence, knowledge; and in knowledge, self-control, and in self-control, perseverance, and in perseverance, godliness; and in godliness, brotherly kindness, and in brotherly kindness, love. ... for as long as you practice these things, you will never stumble. (2 Pet. 1:5-7,10b)

So, when we wake up in the morning, if the first thing we do is "Put on the Lord Jesus Christ," (Rom. 13:14), we should also remember that we have already "put on the new self," (Eph. 4:24), the night before. There should be no time of the day that we are not practicing the love of God.

Logan Cowart

2009-12-05 Poetry, I will Magnify the Lord

I will magnify the Lord.
He is worthy to be praised!
(If-) God is for us, Who stands against us, now?
---
He who did not spare His Son
(-but) Gave Him up for all of us,
How will He not forgive us everything?

(Chorus)
The Lord loves us!
not tribulation or distress
or persecution or the sword
can stop Him (you know)
The Lord loves us
and neither death nor life can sep-
arate us from the love of God
in Jesus.

Who brings charge to God’s elect?
God is He who justifies;
Who is he who dares, condemnation bring?
---
Jesus Christ is He who died,
Rather, He was raised to life.
He, at God’s right hand, intercedes for us.

(Chorus)

What can separate us from
(-the) Love of Christ who died for us?
Overwhelming love, conquered ev‘rything.
---
I am absolutely sure
There is nothing with the pow'r,
(to-) Separate us from (-the) Love of God in Christ.

(Chorus)

2009-10-03 Poetry, The Sun Hangs Low

The sun hangs low,
throwing warm streaks of brightness
across the green grass under the trees in the park.
There is, perhaps, only an hour or two left
Before the sun sets
Leaving us in darkness.
I stand on the train
As it carries me away
And I think of you.
I’m thinking of the probability,
Since you’re struggling
With the side-effects of medication
And many tumors,
That I may never see you again.
The sun hangs low.
There is so little time left.
But then, there never was.

2008-07-03 Writing, A Hook and a Catch

A Hook and a Catch.

Most any book about writing will tell you that you must "hook" your reader's attention with the first sentence. But few of them will tell you that the last sentence should "catch" your reader's memory with something good. It may be something funny, or it may be something serious. But, like the punch-line of a joke, it should be something memorable.

Take, for example, Meg Cabot's book "Missing You", the last of her 1-800-Where-R-You series. The end of chapter 14 and the beginning of chapter 15 reads like this:

[quote]
"Well," I said, "in that case, you can ask your son to turn himself in to the officers who should be waiting in your reception area right about" ---I glanced at my watch and saw that it was ten o'clock---"now."

15

Both Randys were busy gaping at me when the intercom on Mr. Whitehead's desk suddenly buzzed.

… "I'm sorry, Randy," the receptionist's voice crackled. "But there are about a half dozen police officers out here who say they need to see you right away."

All of the color drained from Mr. Whitehead's face. …
[/quote]

So, the phrase "right about … now" is a super "catch", or punch-line, which completely sets up the "hook" at the beginning of the next chapter --- the intercom buzzing and the police being right there.

In all of my high school English, no one ever said anything about the last sentence of a paragraph being important. All I heard was to start my paragraphs with a sentence telling what the paragraph is about. But forty years later, I'm reading Strunk and White's "The Elements of Style," and there it is. The most important sentence of a paragraph, the conclusion, the memorable point, should be the last sentence of the paragraph.

[quote]
"22. Place the emphatic words of a sentence at the end."
… [The last paragraph of that section says:]
The principle that the proper place for what is to be made most prominent is the end applies equally to the words of a sentence, to the sentences of a paragraph, and to the paragraphs of a composition.
[/quote]

I know. I know. Could they have been any more boring with that last sentence? All they are saying is, put the climax of the story, or paragraph, or sentence, at the end.

For example --- again from "Missing You" ---

[Rob, speaking to Jess]
[quote]
"Now that you have your powers back, does this mean if we have kids, you're always going to know where to find them?"

I thought about it. "Yes," I said.

"What about me?" He put his arms around my waist. "Are you always going to know where to find me?"

"Oh, yes," I said, grinning back at him. "Now that I've found the person who's been missing the longest of all, anyway."

"Who's that?" Rob asked, curious.

"Myself," I said. And hugged him.
[/quote]

Meg Cabot does a pretty awesome job of bridging her chapters with memorable sentences. Sometimes a chapter break will also be a significant time break in the story. Other times, the chapter break, like the first example above, takes no time at all.

So think about this when you write. Can you say something interesting at the end of each chapter or paragraph? And can you begin the next chapter or paragraph with something just as interesting? Or with something that bridges the gap between the breaks? If you can do this, your readers will not want to stop reading your story.


Write well,
Logan

2008-06-24 Writing, Meg Cabot

Meg Cabot is the queen of digression.

By digression, I mean that style of writing which puts narrative explanations into the middle of a section of chronological plot development. That is, the author relates what is happening, and then digresses into a long explanation, and then returns to the plot afterward.

Example 1, in the book Teen Idol, Jen tells her best friend Trina that she (Jen) has a date for the Spring Fling.
"And the scary thing was, it was true. I wasn't even lying. I did have a date to the Spring Fling …" [And then we go into a five page flash-back of how this came about. And then the plot continues.] "An assurance that Trina, standing on my front porch an hour later, clearly didn't believe."

Example 2, on page 2 of Airhead, we read:
"'All right, Emerson,' Mr. Greer said. 'You've got two minutes.' He looked down at his watch. 'And …'"
[here we have one paragraph about lip gloss, and two paragraphs on why Emerson is named Emerson, followed by:]
"'… go,' Mr. Greer said, turning on his oven timer."

This is one thing Meg Cabot really shines at. She writes like some people talk, with many digressions to fill in a lot of details that we, as a reader, would otherwise not know. These digressions may be short, like the one just mentioned, or very long, like the first one mentioned. But the great thing about them is, the reader rarely notices them as digressions. They are so much a part of the story.

One more example that I really liked. Example 3, on page 256-259 (hardback) of Airhead, we read:
"… when the cab … let me off. [skipping 3 paragraphs] …I just hadn't had time to make myself a decent breakfast." [two and a half pages later, after a discussion of how hard it was to get up, what she did the night before, how she got dressed, what she was wearing and why, we return from this digression with: ] "Maybe that had something to do with why, when I got out of the cab … "

This is a good way to insert narrative material into a book or story. Instead of throwing in one or more paragraphs in a separate narrators voice, the author can lead into the digression using the voice of the current character. Inserting a bit of narrative material, along with what may have happened to the character before this, makes it easier for the reader to continue the flow. This way, the reader isn't jerked out of what's happening, or what the character is doing, by a completely different voice doing an explanation.

Write well.
Logan

2008-03-30 Poetry, Angel

Angel?
It’s been years
Since you were here
At twelve years old
In Wednesday class.
It's been years
Since you asked
Softly, almost whispered,
Can God still love someone
Even if they were raped?
On hearing those words
A shadow of fear
Sank into my heart
That this was not
A third-person question
But a personal one.
And here I am,
Years later,
With tears running
Down my face,
Wondering
Where you are.
What ever happened
That you would disappear
For years,
Angel?
Remember
The answer is
And always will be
Yes.
Angel. 2008-03-30, Logan Cowart

2008-02-01 Poetry, My Girl

2008-02-01, My Girl.

My girl is Sunshine’s laugh itself,
Running down the beach,
Skipping on the sand,
Laughing through the waves.

She loves the beach,
Almost as much as she loves other people,
Talking with them,
Laughing with them,
Crying with them.

She doesn’t even know
She’s the angel of sunshine,
Bringing the light of love
Into the lives of everyone around her.

She doesn’t understand
Why people want to be with her.
Or why, if they like her so much,
They feel free to criticize her,
To dismiss her ideas as if she were a child.

Even though I tell her, she doesn’t believe
That she is a beautiful and wonderful person.
She looks at herself through the mirror of the world,
That shows only age, and gray imperfections.

She hides from the world
In the cave of her tears.
Ashamed to be seen
For what she has not.

But I look in her eyes and see what she is.
My girl is Sunshine’s laugh herself,
The angel of love to everyone else,
Running down the beach,
Skipping on the sand,
Laughing through the waves.

Ignoring the pounding surf,
The chaos and pain of the world,
She shines with the light of God’s love,
And of laughter,
Bringing the warmth of the beach
Into the lives of those who surround her.

2008-01-04 Poetry, A Simple Thanks

2008-01-04, A Simple Thanks.

When I was seventeen I felt
The cage of my own culture
Surrounding me, stifling me.
The expectations, the preconceptions
Of my own family telling me
Who I was and who I would
Always be, were bars of steel.
I wanted freedom to breathe free,
To be me,
Whoever I decided me would be.
Maybe I wanted others to see me,
Not for who I was, but
Only for who I wanted to be.
I wanted to be liked,
So, like me.
I wanted to be appreciated,
Appreciate me.
I wanted to be loved,
So, love me.

Fast-forward forty years.
I would rather like myself
For loving someone else
Whether or not they know it,
Than to receive the adulation
For that for which I was no cause.
A simple thanks for what I do
Is quite enough.
When strangers gush over who
They think I am, it slides away.
They don’t know my failure
To be the person I want to be.
They don’t know me.
Why should I inflate myself
On false illusions?
I only want the honest truth.
Only I know the me
That I live with every day.
Only I know the joy
That comes to me
From helping others.
Only I know the pain
That comes from failing,
When I think I could have done it
Differently. It’s my choice.
Do I feed my soul with false illusions?
Or real actions, bringing joy to someone else?
Give me truth. Always.

2007-12-18 Words, Nordstrom

2007-12-18, Nordstrom

I don’t remember whether it was last year or the year before, but I was in a hurry.
The sky-bridge to the mall sends everyone through Nordstrom and, as I entered the store,
I heard the music. I slowed down because it was … familiar? It was as if the individual
notes of the song were floating down, out of the overhead speakers like little soap
bubbles falling through the air.

The tune was Greensleeves, being played on the piano. It was beautiful. I don’t
think that my mouth actually dropped open. I felt stunned, but my feet kept moving. As
I rounded the escalators I saw a young lady playing the piano. This was instead of the
regular player, who was an older gentleman. I had never seen this young lady before.

My feet slowed down and stopped while I listened for another minute. I felt this
sudden urge to empty my pockets and give her all my money if only she would keep on
playing. I suppressed the urge to go over and sit beside her on the piano bench. I looked
to see if she had a card or some other identification on the piano, but I didn’t see
anything. Being in a hurry, I turned and walked away. Slowly. Listening.

I never saw her again. But ever since then, as I pass through Nordstrom, and hear
the regular guy playing the piano, it reminds me of the time I heard an angel play. And I
remember how the notes seemed to drift down from the sky, as if they were snowflakes
drifting down from heaven itself. And I regret that I was in a hurry, that I was too much
the adult and not enough the child, to stop and say, “Thank you.”

So, this is me, stopping and saying, Thank you, Nordstrom, for having real people
play your pianos, and for allowing those people to share the miracle of music with others.
Maybe someday in the future, you’ll be able to afford it again. And someday, maybe
you’ll find another angel to play for you.

2007-12-09 Poetry, Song, Blessing

Blessing (to the tune of “Morning has broken”)

May the Lord bless you, may the Lord keep you.
When the Lord sees you, may He just smile.
Over the sorrow, long past tomorrow,
May the Lord’s peace fill your heart awhile.

Your heart was broken, in the bright sunshine,
Hard words were spoken, tears in the rain,
Over the sorrow, long past tomorrow,
May the Lord’s love fill your heart again.

Years pass in twilight, children are mem’ries,
All of your dreams might vanish with day.
Still I will be there, waiting for you there,
When the Lord comes and takes us away.

May the Lord bless you, may the Lord keep you.
When the Lord sees you, may He just smile.
Over the sorrow, long past tomorrow,
May the Lord’s peace fill your heart awhile.

2007-12-08 Poetry, Raining Light

Raining Light.

Even when the day is
Overcome by darkness
In the night, raining light.

Dripping glints of sparkle
In the air are falling
From a height, splashing bright.

The rain runs on the ground
Like tears are running down
The face of light, crying tight.

The pain runs in our hearts
For each one hurt in heartless
Ways of spite, crushing plight.

Even when our day is
Overcome by darkness
Of the night, raining fright.

Glints of love wash our hearts,
And drops of hope spark our lives,
That soon we might, walk by sight.

2007-12-07 Poetry, Gray Rain

Gray Rain.

Clouded sky, just turning day, charcoal-gray.
Rain-washed streets, reflecting sky, steely-gray.
Tail-light highlights, floating on street, reddish-gray.
Flashing streetlights, on running water, yellow-green-gray.
River of rain, washed over street, cloudy-gray.
Car in fog, tires splashing, maroon-gray.
Headlights winking, wipers slashing, twinkle-gray.
Red bricks covered, in watery glaze, purple-gray.
Sky now lighter, rain still falling, cloudy-gray.
Car now brighter, driving slowly, whitish-gray.
Walking slowly, crossing asphalt, splashy-gray.
Raindrops twinkle, plinking puddles, gray on gray.
Two-inch total, salmon in street, rainy-gray.
Daylight rises, brightens colors, gray today.

2007-12-06 Poetry, Kitty Cat

Kitty Cat.

Kitty Cat, Kitty Cat,
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty Cat.
Kitty Cat, Kitty Cat,
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty Cat,
Furry, purry, hurry Cat.
Funny Cat, bunny Cat,
Enigmatic, sunny Cat.
Sleepy Cat, leapy Cat,
Ever moving, keepy Cat.
Yowly Cat, howly Cat,
Growly, prowly, meowly Cat.
Kitty Cat, Kitty Cat,
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty Cat.
Kitty Cat, Kitty Cat,
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty Cat.

2007-10-27 Poetry, Landscape of My Heart

Landscape of My Heart.

In the landscape of my heart
You have no part,
You who stand at the border pass,
Throwing rocks and yelling slurs.
You shall not pass!

In the landscape of my heart
Are valleys of dreams and streams of hope
Eventually replaced by memories
Of good times, amazing things and cherished friends.

I used to let my fantasies run wild across
The meadow of my heart.
But fantasies tend to crash and burn
Against the rocks and cliffs of the real world.
So now, my fantasies are left
In the puffy clouds that float across the sky.
They are not allowed to touch the ground
In the landscape of my heart.

The mountains surrounding my heart
Are impossible to pass without
The pass of my permission.
Standing at the pass to
The landscape of my heart,
I watch the people passing by
As I travel through my day.
Some of them are vandals,
Spewing graffiti against my cliffs;
It drips down and runs away. They
Cannot touch the beauty, they
Cannot see the glory, they
Cannot have the memories
In the landscape of my heart.

The memories of my friends may walk
The landscape of my heart.
At least the good parts
And the true parts even though
The truth is sometimes sad.
I continue to remind myself that
Everyone’s imperfect. They
Will all eventually fail at some point;
Will fail to protect my heart.
But good friends will be mostly good
And will apologize for failing,
If they know that they have failed.
Sometimes they need reminding.

In the landscape of my heart,
There’s room enough to store
The hopes and dreams my friends
May share with me. It’s my job
To remember and protect them,
And help them grow up
Into memories.

In my life, the more friends I have
The more sure I am
That I will, someday, endure the pain
Of losing someone I loved
(through death or betrayal).
When that day comes,
Like a cataclysmic event,
It will tear out all
The hopes and dreams
I had for that person
From the landscape of my heart.
I will mourn the loss.
And close the pass,
For a time,
To repair the damage
And package the memories
Of good times, for later review.
Only old and trusted friends
May reach me then.

2007-10-23 Poetry, Waiting

Waiting.
Watching the fish,
Orange, black and silver,
Swimming, floating, flashing,
Hiding among the plants
Waving slowly in the current,
Swirling around the tank.
They have no thought,
No worry, no fear of the future.
Waiting.
Watching the clerks,
The admins, the technicians
As they call in
The patients, one after another.
Thinking to myself
How long has it been?
Waiting.
Looking back in time.
How many procedures?
Replacing the knee,
Mastectomy,
Replacing the knee
Chemotherapy --- you almost died.
Waiting.
Watching the sunlight
Flooding the skylights,
High on the ceiling,
Bright.
Almost as if this were Arizona.
Waiting.
Glancing at covers
Of old magazines --- Shooting Times.
Waiting.
How long has it been?
Thinking, where did it start?
Thyroidectomy,
Childbirth
P.M.S., panic disorder,
Hospitalization,
Infertility, laparoscopy,
Childbirth,
Lumpectomy and radiation,
Hysterectomy,
Mastectomy.
Waiting.
The TV flashes and chatters,
Unseen and unheard.
Another patient called.
What did we think
When the Doctor himself
Called to say that
The tumor markers,
The protein traces,
Now measured 78 instead of 25?
That there was a 98 percent
Probability of cancer,
Again,
Somewhere.
Waiting.
Wondering, what will we see
When the CAT scan is done?
When the Bone Scan is finished?
Waiting.
They said it would be 10 minutes,
Thirty minutes ago.
But I can hear your laugh,
Even from here.

2007-10-11 Poetry, Venus Only Smiles

Ballad02


The Sun and Stars chitchat to Mars,
The Moon to Saturn spills;
The Clouds on high begin to sigh,
But Venus’ gossip chills.

This is a tale of sad betrayal,
Of love a-foundering.
A young man’s chance to join the dance,
Is lost to boundering.

He’s tall and fair, and debonair
While she is shy and warm,
But then he turns, and sneering, spurns
Her smile, with freezing form.

She, glancing down and blushing, frowned
While he, uncaring, laughed.
She shrugs and turns, and once more learns
That most young men are daft.

Away he walks and cunning talks,
While others he compared.
He casts a net of words to get
The fairest one ensnared.

But whispers fast around him pass,
Like wind through shivered leaves.
As friend allied with friends confide,
His soft deceit unweaves.

A stillness then descends as when
To him, they all have turned.
He is surprised to realize
His net of words is burned.

From face to face he turns, in place,
Quite all around the hall.
‘Twas then he learned: When one he spurned,
He had offended all.

He stops full short, then he resorts
To running from the scene.
She laughs aloud, as does the crowd,
With humor, unforeseen.

The Sun does not accept the thought:
That they may reconcile;
But Moon and Stars now fight with Mars,
And Venus only smiles.

Friday, June 10, 2011

2011-01-31 Archive, Reading, Three Black Swans

Three Black Swans — A Critique-al Review

Warning: This book is somewhat of a mystery, and contains surprises which may be spoiled by reading this review. If you truly love to be surprised, please read the book first.

This 2010 book from Delacorte Press by Caroline B. Cooney is emotionally similar to her book "The Voice on the Radio;" it brings me to a happy end after the tears have run down my face.

Language — As usual, I love the similes and metaphors that Ms. Cooney uses in her descriptions. Things like:
"At first, the doctor's remarks stayed outside Missey, hanging there like the clean clothes dangling from ceiling racks," or, "Half the night, she stood in the dark, while the facts of her life sorted themselves like a pack of cards being dealt," (It's nice to see that I'm not the only one who uses too many commas) or, "Missy was not deflected, which was typical; she was a pit bull," or, "I feel like a dead soccer ball. Not even worth kicking."

Characters — In this book, Ms. Cooney attempts to bring a happy (or at least satisfied) ending to all of the major characters. That is somewhat nice for the reader, but it is also somewhat awkward for the plot. Usually a plot has good guys and bad guys, heroes and villians, but in this case all the bad guys try to reform themselves into good guys by the end, so there are no real villians. Also, one of the subplots — the lack of money for sending the girls to college — was never resolved. But if the great-grandmother actually has money (also never resolved), she could have offered to use it to further the girl's education, resolving this subplot in a satisfactory way.

Point of view — Three asterisks (* * *) between paragraphs are often used to indicate a change of place or scene, or a change of time to "later," but Ms. Cooney frequently uses this to indicate a change in point of view. When you are reading a series of paragraphs it is usually from the point of view of a single character. However, Ms. Cooney's writing in this book often leaves you wondering whether the author herself remembered exactly which person's point of view was being used. For example:

Genevieve was laughing. "About Ray," she reminded him.
Jimmy could think of no way out. He swallowed. " ... A friend of Ray's ... forwarded him this weird video from this morning. ..."
"Weird" was not the word for the video. "Dramatic and emotional" defined the video.
The weird part was standing in front of Jimmy.

Now, since "weird" is a feeling held by the person standing in front of Jimmy, I could only interpret the last sentence to be from Genevieve's point of view. But that means the previous paragraph describing the video as not "weird" but "dramatic and emotional" should also be from Genevieve's point of view. But Genevieve had not seen the video yet, so it could only be from the author's point of view, which is a big no-no. The author should not put his or her own opinion onto the page outside of the character's opinions, but sometimes Ms. Cooney does this. At the end of the first scene of the book, she writes, "Missy Vianello had not fallen out of her own time. She had fallen out of her life." Which is an excellent line with which to end the scene, but it was definitely the author's point of view, as if she had prefixed it with, "Little did she know, but ...." But getting back to "weird," This entire section between asterisks is supposed to be from Jimmy's point of view. And Ms. Cooney could have spared me the confusion over who's point of view this was by writing: "Weird" was not the word for the video, [thought Jimmy]. "Dramatic and emotional" defined the video. The weird part was [the person] standing right in front of [him].

Maybe the book would be easier to read if it were told from fewer points of view — rewrite the points of view of the peripheral characters like Jimmy or Rick. But we still must have at least one point of view from a parent in each family (probably the mothers) in order to bring in the history and background of what happened. Instead, we have the story told from the point of view of each of the main characters — all six parents, all three children, as well as several minor peripheral characters. I much prefer the point of view of her book, "Family Reunion," which is told from a single point of view.

Race — Usually books are written with race-neutral characters. That is, skin color is often left out of the descriptions. (Which is also true with this book). This allows the reader to more easily identify with the characters. I read almost the entire book assuming that the characters were somewhat like me. I happen to be mostly western European with a smidgen of Native American (Choctaw). Until I read the statement: "'They even look like black swans,' said Ned, watching the video for the hundredth time." And my reading was stopped in its tracks. How could the character say that? The two girls on the video were wearing pink sweaters, not black. And then I remembered the descriptions of their hair like fuzzy black halos, or their favorite colors in clothes — "lemon and turquoise and hot pink ... And lime. Anything green." — the kind of colors a pink-faced white person would look ghastly in. Then I had to re-read the entire book thinking about the girls as having dark skin, but it was harder to clearly imagine identical triplets because I don't have the ability to clearly discriminate differences in how people with dark skin look. It's like the pink sweaters, the obvious gets in the way of significant details. I think that the author should have left out Ned's comment about them looking like black swans. Ned could have said, more accurately, "This whole situation is like finding a black swan." Which was the whole point of the black swan reference anyway — an unpredictable event, only explainable after the fact.

Oopsies — At his wife's insistence, Phil looks at the video on his cell phone on pages 210-211, but then on page 253 we have Phil ("Claire's father") saying, "I haven't even seen the famous video yet."

Most of the good books I have read by many different authors have one or more oopsies in them. The paperback version of "The Voice on the Radio" by Caroline B. Cooney, has the boyfriend saying he never used last names on his radio show, but on earlier pages he does use the last names on his broadcast. Maybe every great book starts out with an oopsie somewhere in it. It is only the latest versions of J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" which have Nearly-Headless Nick saying he has not eaten in nearly "500" years, instead of "400" years, when the second volume has him holding his 500th death-day party. And it was only the second version of her "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" that straightened out the order of which ghost came out of Voldemort's wand first, Harry's Mother not his Father. (That was a great piece of clean editing.)

Also, at the end, Missy texts: "What do I have to do, graduate a year early?" Which will never happen because, as Claire said in the beginning of the book, "you ... are an average student with no activities except communicating and shopping." And she is already six weeks into her sophomore year, so she has only about a year and a half to cram in two and a half years of study. If, instead, Missy were the one who is an "A student, in six activities, on two teams and planning to be a doctor," instead of Claire (which makes sense since she is much more driven and Claire is more of a follower), then it would be believable that she could finish up high school a year early and join the others in college at the same time.

Too much — The reference to the Wall Street Journal article mentioning the black swans should have only been used once, by the Ned character. Its use by Missy's father seems to be unneeded.

Plot — Neglecting to mention Genevieve until page 73, and then going on for about 15 pages without connecting her back to the original story is disconcerting. I closed the book three times. I looked at the page numbers, thinking that the book was misprinted and something was out of place. Actually, the author was trying to bring in a surprise, but it was too much of a break in the story. Genevieve, and her relationship to her non-involved parents could have been brought in early, along with descriptions of the other parents and their relationship with their daughters. By introducing the characters early, there is no large break in the storyline when you bring them back in, much later. However, there would also not have been such a great surprise when the storylines reconnected. But then, the title has already given it away.

All in all, I really liked the book. If you are going to read it, pay attention to the datelines, the days and places in bold at the beginning of some of the sections. I have already read it five times in the last week. But then, I have read four other books in the last couple of days — none of which were as good as "Three Black Swans."

Read well,
Logan

2010-11-12 Archive, Words, Falling Water

Falling Water.

I was rinsing the residue out of a can under the slow stream of water from the kitchen faucet when I noticed something: When I hold the can close to the faucet, the pressure of water hitting the can is light, but when I hold the can down away from the faucet, then the pressure of water hitting the can is greater.

Obviously, as the water comes out of the faucet it starts to fall. Now, everything that falls, speeds up under the force of gravity. So, the lower I move the can under the faucet, the faster the water is when it hits the can.

Then I started to think about waterfalls. Why is it that the water at the top of a waterfall can be smooth and continuous, but as it falls it is broken up into thousands or millions of drops?

I will readily admit that I have not thought about this very deeply. Before today I would have answered this question by saying something like, "The resistance of the air against the water falling through it probably breaks up the water into small drops." And I would have been wrong.

I already know that water is kind of sticky. It has a certain resistance to letting go when it is touching something. Also, water has something called surface tension that helps hold it together, and causes it to bead up into drops when the water is on a flat surface. So, I did an experiment.

I turned down the flow of water coming through the faucet until it was a smooth stream about an eighth of an inch (three millimeters) wide. For about three inches (seven centimeters), the stream of water remained smooth, but appeared to narrow in width until it reached the end of its smooth flow, where it broke up into drops.

So, what was happening?

1. The water came out of the faucet at a rate which was fast enough for the surface tension to hold the water in the form of a narrow pipe.

2. As the water fell, it accelerated, stretching the stream of water into a narrower form of pipe. I knew from physics class that water moving through a pipe speeds up when the pipe narrows. But who knew that speeding up the flow of water stretches it into the form of a narrower pipe?

3. At some point, the water overcomes the surface tension holding it together. Then the water is pulled apart into separate falling drops. Note, this would still happen without any wind resistance at all.

4. How could we test or eliminate the possible effect of wind resistance to the falling stream of water? Just put the narrow stream of water into a larger clear tube, where the air around the water is moving down the tube at the same speed as the falling water. Then the water should still break up into drops due to its own speed in falling, not due to air resistance.

So, the next time you watch a waterfall as it moves from a smooth stream of water into a cascading veil of shredded water drops, you'll know why it does what it does.

Think well,
Logan

2010-08-16 Archive, Words, Godel's Incompleteness Theorem

Gödel's first incompleteness theorem states that:
Any effectively generated theory capable of expressing elementary arithmetic cannot be both consistent and complete. In particular, for any consistent, effectively generated formal theory that proves certain basic arithmetic truths, there is an arithmetical statement that is true,[1] but not provable in the theory (Kleene 1967, p. 250).

Wikipedia --- Gödel's incompleteness theorems.

That is, given a set of axioms from which theorems may be deduced: consistency means that none of the axioms or theorems may contradict each other, and completeness means that all possible true statements may be deduced from the given axioms. The incompleteness theorem, proven by Gödel and others, states that we cannot have both consistency and completeness in any set of axioms and deduced theorems.

Translate that into religion. Given any set of rules or laws meant to be used as guides to our behavior, Gödel's incompleteness theorem would say that the rules and their applications to life cannot be both consistent and complete. In fact, I will go so far as to say that such sets of rules are usually both incomplete and inconsistent. They are incomplete because events and situations will occur in real life which will not be explicitly addressed by the rules. And they are inconsistent because situations will occur in real life where making a decision to keep one rule will at the same time cause the breaking of another rule. This is why salvation is by faith, and not merely by keeping the law. It is impossible to keep all of the laws perfectly all of the time.

Jesus ran into this very problem with the Pharisee's interpretation of keeping the Sabbath. He had to point out that it should be lawful to relieve hunger on the Sabbath (Matt. 12:5), to heal or take care of animals on the Sabbath (Matt. 12:10-12), to circumcise on the Sabbath (John 7:22-23), to do good on the Sabbath (Matt. 12:12). In dealing with the issue of contradicting laws, Jesus applied the principal that people were more important than the laws --- Mk 2:27, The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. In prioritizing the laws, Jesus made love the overriding principal --- Matt. 22:36-40, Love the Lord ... Love your neighbor. So, whenever we run into rule-keepers who are intent on pointing out our deficiencies in this regard, perhaps we should just smile and thank them for their concern.

Usually we define righteousness or holiness as keeping the rules. But when the rules come into conflict with each other someone must make a decision as to which rules will be kept, and which rules will be allowed to slide.

So, here's the contradiction. God is good, and loving, and merciful, and righteous. God gave us this rule: He who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin. So, if God sees pain and suffering but (from our point of view) does nothing about it, is it sin? Or, is our perception being warped by Satan?

Suppose, hypothetically, an innocent child is badly burned in a fire. We pray to God for the child to be healed, for the suffering to stop. After a year, the child dies. Given that God has the power to heal the child, was it wrong that God did not use His power to heal the child? After all, "he who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin."

I would suggest that one answer to the problem of pain and suffering --- Can God be both good and all powerful and still allow suffering --- is a matter of perception and timing. It is a matter of perception because Satan would have us believe the lie that this earth is all there is, there is no life after death, there is no hope, implying that we must have justice and pain relief here and now. But from God's point of view, death is merely the gateway into an eternal life without suffering. And it is a matter of timing because Satan would have us believe that a few hours of suffering is too much. But from God's point of view, where almost no one suffers for more than a "few" years, our lives are the blink of an eye compared to eternity.

God has set up rules to give us the freedom to do good or evil. He has set up physical rules for this universe, and He has limited our lifespan to a relatively short period of time from His point of view. When pain and suffering happen to innocent people, is it wrong for God to allow these "natural" rules to take precedence over our desire for "instant" gratification? And just how instant is instant? If God were to relieve pain before it even happened, then this world would not be one which allowed us the freedom to do evil to each other. But what limit would we set on God? Is two hours of pain too much to bear, theologically speaking? What about two years, or two decades of suffering? In the book of Acts, the man that Peter healed had been lame for 40 years. How long is too long before we decide that God is either not good, or powerless, or not there at all?

To God, a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years is like a day. To us, our lifespan is almost always less than 120 years. No one is suffering for a thousand years. So, if Paradise is waiting beyond death, is the problem of pain (can God be unjust or unmerciful?) a matter of perception and timing?


Logan

2010-07-09 Archive, Poetry, Songs, Where Are You Now? 2

Where Are You Now?

We heard the words the angels gave, “Fear not, you'll bear a son.”
Where are you now, Emmanuel, God's own anointed one?
They said that you'll forever rule. We thought this was good news.
So where is he who then was born to be the king of Jews?

Where are you now, Emmanuel, the son of God, above.
We need your word, we need your touch, we need your perfect love.

And you, Oh Bethlehem, are not the least of all the clans,
For out of you shall come a King to shepherd all the lands.
We saw those wise men worship you and give you gold, and myrrh;
But then they left, and she took you. We should have gone with her.

Where are you now, Emmanuel, the son of God, above.
We need your word, we need your touch, we need your perfect love.

A voice was heard in Ramah's land, great mourning at death's door.
It's Rachel weeping for her sons, because they are no more.
For eight and twenty years we wept, and echoed Rachel's cry:
The other mothers weeping for our sons who had to die.

Where are you now, Emmanuel, the son of God, above.
We need your word, we need your touch, we need your perfect love.

The stars are shining bright tonight, Just like they were back then.
An echo on the wind yet sings God's glory once again.
A voice cries out of wilderness, "Repent, for God is near,
Prepare the way, make straight the Path," for Christ, the Lord, is here.

Where are you now, Emmanuel, the son of God, above.
We need your word, we need your touch, we need your perfect love.

2010-07-08 Archive, Poetry, Songs, Where are You Now?

Where Are You Now?

We heard the words the angels gave,
“Fear not, you'll bear a son.”
Where are you now, Emmanuel,
God's own anointed one?

They said that you'll forever rule.
We thought this was good news.
So where is he who then was born
To be the king of Jews?

And you, Oh Bethlehem, are not
The least of all the clans,
For out of you shall come a King
To shepherd all the lands.

We saw those wise men worship you
And give you gold, and myrrh;
But then they left, and then she left,
We should have gone with her.

For eight and twenty years we wept.
And echoed Rachel's cry:
The other mothers weeping for
our sons who then did die.

The stars are shining bright tonight
Just like they were back then.
An echo on the wind yet sings
God's glory once again.

Where are you now, Emmanuel,
The son of God, above.
We need your word, we need your touch,
We need your perfect love.

2010-06-25 Archive, Poetry, In the Beginning

In the Beginning

In the beginning
God had created
Heaven and earth and sky.
Earth was still formless,
Darkness encompassed,
All of the depth on high.

Spirit of God said
Let there be light and
Light did put forth a ray.
God saw the light and
Knew it was good so
Evening began that day.

Evening and morning,
Morning and evening,
Year after year rolled past.
Men turned to evil,
Choosing the darkness,
'Till the time came, at last.

In the beginning
Was the one Word and
Word was with God alone.
Word was with God and
Word was the God who
came to, each one, atone.

Heavenly Father,
This is my prayer,
Help me to love the Lord.
Reading the Bible,
Loving each other,
Help me to live your word.

2010-06-22 Archive, Poetry, Songs, Psalms 111

From Psalms 111
(Chorus)
Hallelujah! Praise the LORD!
Thank the LORD with all your heart.
Righteousness is in His word.
Praise forever, is our part.

(1)
In the church of the upright,
Great the works of God, above,
Sought by those who they delight,
Splendid wonders, perfect love.

(2)
Righteousness endures in Him.
We remember, wonders sent.
Gracious love, compassion's king,
God remembers covenant.

(3)
Truth and justice in His hand,
All his laws are ever sure.
They are done at His command,
Laws upheld, forever pure.

(4)
Holy, Awesome, is His name.
Fear the LORD and you'll be wise,
Understanding God, who came,(that)
We may praise Him in the skies.

(Chorus)
Hallelujah! Praise the LORD!
Thank the LORD with all your heart.
Righteousness is in His word.
Praise forever, is our part.

2010-06-19 Archive, Reading Raised by Wolves

Werewolves.

In general, I am not a fan of werewolf fiction (or of Vampire fiction, for that matter). But, the Young Adult book "Raised by Wolves," by Jennifer Lynn Barnes, is excellent. This is not your run-of-the-mill action-violence-horror novel. (There are no such things as vampires in this book.) Unlike a lot of werewolf fiction, this should not be categorized as "horror." While there is a certain level of violence (this being a werewolf novel partly about a "rabid," evil werewolf), This book is also about the different kinds of relationships that werewolves have with each other and with the pack. The parallels between these relationships, and the relationships that people have with (and impose on) one another, will continue to echo in your memory long after you have finished reading this book.

From a Christian point of view, I cannot help but see the echoes in this book of the relationship that God has (or wants to have) with people, that people have (or should have) with one another, and that people have with themselves as they struggle to overcome the temptations of their own body.

While there are a small number of expletives used in this book that a Christian would not use, this book is well worth buying, and reading multiple times, and giving to your friends.

Read well,
Logan

2010-06-19 Archive, Poetry, Songs, Jeremiah 31

Poetry - Songs

From Jeremiah 31

The time has come, declares the Lord, / to make a new agreement.
Not like the covenant, before, / with Israel and Judah
Not like the covenant I made / to lead them out of Egypt.
Not like the covenant they broke, / which broke my heart to see it.

But this will be the covenant / I make with them forever:
To put my law within their mind, / and write it on their spirit.
And I alone will be their God, / and they shall be My people.

No longer will they teach again, / each man his brother, saying,
Come, 'Know the LORD,' for they will all, / from least of them to greatest,
Will know me well, declares the Lord / for I will be their father.
And I'll forgive iniquity / and I'll forget their failure.

But this will be the covenant / I make with them forever:
To put my law within their mind, / and write it on their spirit.
And I alone will be their God, / and they shall be My people.

Thus says the LORD, who gives the sun, / to light each day with daylight.
And gives the moon and stars at night, / to brighten night with starlight,
If day and night shall cease to be, / declares the LORD almighty,
Then Israel's seed will cease to be / a nation from before me.

But this will be the covenant / I make with them forever:
To put my law within their mind, / and write it on their spirit.
And I alone will be their God, / and they shall be My people.


From 1 Thess 4:14-18

If we believe that Jesus died / And rose to live again.
Then those who sleep in death, in Christ, / Our God will bring with Him.

The Lord has said that we who live / On earth until He comes
Shall not precede those other ones / who sleep within the tombs.

The Lord Himself will come again / From heaven he'll come down,
And with a shout, archangel's voice, / God's trumpet will resound.

And first the dead in Christ shall rise, / Then we who still are here
Shall be caught up within the clouds / To meet Him in the air.

And thus we shall forever be / with God and with the Lord,
So therefore comfort, all of you, / Each other with these words.

2010-06-08 Archive, Poetry, Ecclesiastes 3

Ecclesiastes 3, from the Hebrew

Every season has a time
For every desire beneath the sky.
A time to birth, a time to die;
A time to plant, a time to reap;
A time to kill, a time to heal;
A time to break out, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, a time to dance;
A time to throw stones, and a time to hold stones;
A time to embrace, and a time to part;
A time to search, a time to fail;
A time to keep, a time to lose;
A time to tear, a time to sew;
A time to be still, and a time to speak out;
A time to love, a time to hate;
A time to fight, a time for peace;
Every season has a time
For every desire beneath the sky.

2010-06-06 Archive, Reading

Reading

In the last month I've read a number of books including John Grisham's newest book for kids, "Theodore Boone, Kid Lawyer." But I'll get to that later.

I checked the following books out of the library ---

"The Runaway Princess," by Kate Coombs. An amusing children's fantasy, written at a grown-up level, about a sixteen year-old princess who escapes from the tower in order to save the dragon, witch, and band of thieves from the crowd of princes trying to win her and the kingdom.

"An Ice Cold Grave," by Charlaine Harris. An adult murder mystery about a woman who can sense dead bodies in the vicinity, and feel how they died (including torture and death). She enters a liaison with her "brother" (no actual relation) who has been taking care of her and her business as a psychic. They had always loved each other, but the step-sibling thing kept them from expressing it.

"Hundred Dollar Baby," by Robert B. Parker. I can't remember anything about this, so it must not have been very memorable.

"The Runaway Dragon," by Kate Coombs. This is a sequel to the children's fantasy (written at a grown-up level) "The Runaway Princess." It is just as amusing as the first one. The Baby Dragon grows up, the princess has to save her friends from a giant, and save the band of thieves from a sorceress. In the end, the chief thief, who can pass for a prince, is allowed to court her, and she is pleased.

"The Girl With the Mermaid Hair," by Delia Ephron. A young-adult book, the library's summary says: A vain teenaged girl is obsessed with beauty and perfection until she uncovers a devastating family secret. Hmmm, now I remember that she was obsessed with her own image and kept taking "selfies," pictures of herself with her phone camera. Then she wore heels to a football game, sat on the wrong side, fell in the mud, went to a party after the game, was almost groped by the quarterback but ran away ... and then ... it escapes my memory. Oh yeah, Her father is unfaithful and she sees it. Her mother finds out and kicks him out, and then kicks the girl out for not telling her, but in the end she gets to move back in with her mother.

"God is in the Pancakes," by Robin Epstein. A young-adult book about a high-school age girl who has to do community service (for drunk & disorderly) at an old folk's home where she befriends an old man who is dying with Lou Gehrig's disease. He asks her to help him die by crushing 20 pills, but she can't bring herself to do it, at first. This raises the issue of what do you do, when doing the right thing is illegal and possibly wrong. You will enjoy the main character.

"There are no Words," by Mary Calhoun Brown. This short historical novella for young adults deals with autism and asperger's syndrome. It contains excellent descriptions of the feelings a person with asperger's may have, and how they may deal with the overload of sensory experiences the world contains. Entrancing.

"Dragon's Keep," by Janet Lee Carey. This young-adult fantasy tells the story of how fourteen-year-old Rosalind fulfills the six-hundred year-old prophecy by Merlin in an unforseen way, to become the twenty-first queen of Wilde Island, making peace with the surviving dragons along the way. Well written.

"The Wager," by Donna Jo Napoli. I couldn't get into this story set in 12th century Sicily about a man trading his looks and good hygiene to the devil for three years in order to obtain unlimited wealth. He ultimately lives.

"The Ring," by Bobbie Pyron. This is a young adult novel about how the discipline of women's boxing helped turn around the life of the main character. And no, she does not win the final bout, but it was close.

"I So Don't Do Makeup," by Barrie Summy. This middle-school mystery is one of a series. Like Nancy Drew in grade-school, the mystery gets solved. The writing is maybe too simplistic for adults. The sentences are deliberately kept short and simple.

"The Patron Saint of Butterflies," By Cecilia Galante. This is a young-adult story/mystery about two twelve-year-old girls who have lived their whole lives in an oppressive religious commune. In the end, they have to step up and tell the truth, which destroys the commune. I knew immediately that this commune was going to be bad, when the four most important rules did not include love or truth. Also, all of the people in the commune, including one of the girls were striving for perfection, sometimes through self-inflicted suffering. Though things turn out well in the end, this story, while easy to read, is hard to bear. While realistically portrayed, I still wonder how anyone can believe that righteousness may be attained through punishment --- as if God wants people to hurt themselves and each other.

Re-read "City," by Clifford D. Simak. A series of classic science fiction stories relating the end of mankind over a span of twenty thousand years. Mankind is superceded by talking dogs, the brotherhood of animals, "wild" robots and ants (which die in the end).

Non-Library fiction:

"Theodore Boone, Kid Lawyer," by John Grisham. This is not young-adult fiction. The language and sentences have been simplified to accommodate middle-school readers. It is not quite as simplistic as Meg Cabot's "Allie Finkle" series. The story is supposed to be about a thirteen-year-old eighth-grader who happens to be taking classes like Government, Geometry, Chemistry and Spanish --- classes I would never have seen until high school. I get the feeling that the book was originally written with a fifteen-year-old main character, and then re-vamped for middle-school instead. Compare this style to J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series. Although she is writing about an eleven-year-old, she did not dumb-down the language or plot. "Theodore Boone," on the other hand, is only half finished. All of the plot threads are left hanging and unresolved. The story was a great disappointment to me, and I cannot imagine it would be any more satisfying to grade-school children weaned on material the quality of "Harry Potter." Two pages from the end, the menacing bad-guy faces down the main character from fifty feet away, then "turned and scampered away." In the last sentence of the book, Theodore Boone "scampered out of the office...." Please! Chipmunks scamper. Adult men and kid lawyers only scamper in the eyes of an author who is not looking at the world through a middle-school kid's glasses. Children are only less experienced, not unintelligent and not undiscerning about when they are being talked down to.

Read well,
Logan

2010-05-16 Archive, Poetry, Ballad of Revelation 2

2010-05-15 The Ballad of Revelation (Continued)

I heard a voice from heaven say,
"Behold, God lives with men."
And people shall be His, and He
Shall be a God to them.

And God shall wipe away all tears.
And death shall be no more.
With sorrow, pain and crying gone,
It's what a heaven's for.

And unto him who is athirst,
I choose to freely give,
The water of life to save his soul,
That he may drink and live.

He who overcomes the world
Inherits all, well done!
And I shall be a God to him,
And he shall be my son.

The holy city shown to me,
Jerusalem come down,
From out of heaven, straight from God,
His bright and shining crown.

Its radiance like a most rare jewel
Like Jasper, clear as glass;
Its wall is high with twelve full gates,
The saved of earth to pass.

And at the gates twelve angels stand,
And on the gates the names,
Twelve tribes of Israel inscribed
The letters, burning flames.

And on the east are three gates, wide,
And on the north, three gates,
And on the south three gates abide,
And on the west three gates.

On twelve foundations 'neath the wall,
In written monogram,
The twelve full names of all the twelve
Apostles of the lamb.

And he who talked to me did hold
A measure-rod of gold,
To span the city's gates and walls,
That its full size be told.

The city's laid out as a square,
Its length and width the same;
Twelve thousand stadia per side,
Its height of equal frame.

The jasper wall, in cubits high,
one hundred, forty-four.
The city, gold, as clear as glass;
The gold, like glass, was pure.
. . .

Behold, I quickly come to you
With my reward in hand,
To pay back every deed in full,
As men before me stand.

For I am Alpha and Omega, says the Lord our God,
The beginning and the end of all, the everlasting Word.

Bless'd are those who keep the word
And follow His command.
They have the right to(the) tree of life,
And in His presence, stand.

The root and branch of David's line,
The bright and morning star,
The first and last of everything,
The source of all we are.

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come,"
Let one who hears say, "Come,"
And let the one who's thirsty come,
The water of life, drink from.

2010-05-16 Archive, Poetry, Dancing with the Angels

2007-11-04 Dancing With The Angels (long version)

It was a funeral, Alexa.
A memorial to the dead.
But there you were, alone,
“Dancing with the Angels,”
Clad in silky white, flowing,
Your soul naked before hundreds,
To honor someone you loved.

What is it like in your world, Alexa,
To do ballet in the face of death?
Are you like the Viking in the “13th Warrior?”
Reciting the chant before you die ---

“Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother,
And my sisters and my brothers.
Lo, there do I see the line of my people
Back to the beginning.
Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place among them,
in the Halls of Valhalla.
Where the brave may live forever...”

And, dressed in white, she steps into the flames,
As the longship burns his body,
To join her king in death. But no.

What is it like in your world, Alexa,
To honor your friend with dance?
To face our final destiny with music and with life.
To smile through the certainty of oncoming pain.
If only we all had the courage
To live in your world; it would be good.

“Such a man would be rich, indeed,”
If words are drawn to remember his life.
But richer still is the one for whom,
a beautiful woman will dance for his passing.

* * *
It was a dinner, Mary.
A party given by your sister
To honor Jesus, who raised
Your brother from the dead.
But there you were, alone,
Breaking open a pound of perfume,
Pure Nard, worth a year of work.
You knelt behind him, behind Jesus,
And pouring it over his feet,
You wiped it off with your hair.

What is it like in your world, Mary,
To love someone so much that
You would do something so private,
So personal, in such a public way?
Did you shrink back at the criticism? ---
“You should have sold it
And given the money to the poor.”

What is it like to have him defend you,
Telling them to leave you alone,
That you might keep it for his burial?
Only to have that prophecy fulfilled
Six days later, as you watched him die.

* * *
It was a Passover, Jesus.
A thousand-year-old memorial
To the Exodus from Egypt.
But there you were, alone.
It was you, and you alone,
Who stripped off your clothes,
Wrapped yourself in a towel,
Poured water into a basin,
And began to wash the dirt
From the feet of the men around you.

What is it like in your world, Jesus,
To sacrifice your dignity just to make a point;
To do all things well;
To move with grace and mercy
In the face of anger and hatred;
To offer care and forgiveness in the face of death?

How can we ever live up to your example;
To love one another unto death?
We can’t do this without you.
Help us to channel your spirit
Through our own lives.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and
Where the Spirit of the Lord is,
There is freedom.
But we all, with unveiled face,
Beholding in a mirror
The glory of the Lord,
Are transformed
Into the same image
From glory to glory,
Just as from the Lord,
The Spirit.”

2010-05-02 Archive, Reading YA fiction

Reading YA Fiction

What can I say? I'm a book pig. In the last month I must have read, or re-read, at least a dozen YA fiction novels.

I started with Diane Duane's newest book, “A Wizard of Mars,” (550 pages, rating = A). This is the ninth book in her series which started with “So You Want to be a Wizard.”

I read this, and then re-read her first two books, “So You Want to be a Wizard,” and “Deep Wizardry,” which sit on the shelf next to my bed (along with maybe 100 other books --- it's a tall 5-shelf bookshelf, double stacked with books.) I then checked out of the library, as many of the other books in the series as I could get. The library didn't have “High Wizardry” or “A Wizard Abroad” available, the third and fourth books in the series. But I re-read “The Wizard's Dilemma,” “A Wizard Alone,” “Wizard's Holiday,” and “Wizards at War,”

Having now read “A Wizard of Mars” at least twice, I can say it is some of her best work. The tone is much lighter than some of the previous books in the series. It is only the earth and Mars in danger of destruction, and not the entire Universe. No one ends up dying or being lost. Many parts are laugh-out-loud funny. The previous characters (still living and not having been lost or moved on) are all reprised. The book ends in a good way and, unlike “Wizards at War,” doesn't leave you with a knot of pain and loss in your heart and tears running down your face.

One of my favorite lines is: “...Carmela said, and stretched her fluffy-sweatered self out among the cushions, toying with her single dark braid.” Yes indeed, Carmela is back, and plays a key role in this book. This book also contains a number of inside-jokes; references to movies or things that only the people who have seen them would recognize. I recognized the Warner Brother's martian, but not the dark glasses at night movie. “No matter,” (from “Quigly Down Under”) the book is full of good things to find.

Having read that, I read two of Diane Duane's other books, “The Book of Night With Moon,” and “To Visit the Queen.” These are also books about wizards --- cat wizards. But as these cats are part of the team who work to keep the world-gates running by tweaking their superstring structures, I sometimes felt that the technical descriptions got in the way of the plot/action.

I also read Meg Cabot's latest book, “Runaway,” (310 pages, rating – A). This is the third and final book of her trilogy which started with “Airhead,” and continued with “Being Nikki.” And I have to say it was a very satisfying tie-up to the series. I have also read this at least twice. I loved the phrase, “happily stabbing lettuce and goat cheese.” As some of her teenage fans have said on her web-site, it was “Amazing!!!”

I also read 3-4 other books in the last month. Just yesterday, I checked out another three books from the library, and have already read two of them.

“Wild Ride to Heaven,” by Leander Watts (169 pages, rating B (A?)). This short book is set in the early 1800's. The story is told in first person, with an uneducated dialect. (This is unusual since the Main Character is supposed to have been widely read.)

“Moribito II: Guardian of the Darkness,” by Nahoko Uehashi (243 pages, Rating B (A?)). The second book of the Moribito series, translated by Cathy Hirano, illustrated by Yuko Shimizu. This seems to have been narrated in first person from a graphic novel, and sometimes the text has just that feeling. But altogether an interesting story of the woman, Balsa, who is a spear-wielding bodyguard for hire.

Read well,
Logan

2010-05-01 Archive, Poetry, Songs

I wrote the following in 2007 in response to someone on the poetry thread on Meg Cabot's message boards.

“How does it feel?” I hear your words.
“How does it feel to write poetry?”
How does it feel? I ask myself.
But I should be asking someone else.

How does it feel, young David,
Lover of stars, keeper of sheep?
How does it feel to stand in the middle,
Surrounded by brothers,
While some old man, the prophet of God,
Pours oil on your head,
‘Till it runs down your neck?
Then he opens his mouth and changes your life
With the words,
“Thus says the Lord, you shall be king.”
And here you are, years later,
Running for life, hiding in caves,
Chased by three thousand.
How does it feel to be running away,
A spear throw from death,
When the words come,
And enter your mind:

“The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want …,
Though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death
I fear no evil,
For You are with me.”

How does it feel, writer of psalms?
Did you eat up the words?
Or chew them well, to memorize them?
Because, God knows,
You did not have
a pen and parchment
To write them down,
while running.

Writing poetry, to me anyway, is somewhat like playing Tetris. I get a rhythm running in my head, then I start writing a (small) cloud of phrases that fit that rhythm, and then the phrases fall into a pattern of meaning which fits the rhythm, and I move them around to make the meaning clearer, and to get them to rhyme if possible.

An acquaintance of mine expressed an interest recently in poetry for church songs, so I sent several things to him, including the following:

Risen to Glory, version 5, 04/25/2010

Foretold by prophets, born in a stable,
Greeted by Angels, Jesus is here.
Risen to Glory, eternal power,
Jesus and God will always be near.

Heaven above us, Jesus around us,
He is the glory, given by God.
Therefore my brother be the more steadfast,
Always abound in work for the Lord.

Jesus is living, raised by God's power,
One day he's coming back for us all.
Some will be sleeping, some will be watching,
We will be waiting, hearing His call.

In just a moment, at the last trumpet,
We shall be changed in (the) blink of an eye.
Death will be swallowed (by) vict'ry forever,
We will come home to heaven on high.


And just this morning I sent this to him.

Version 3, 5/1/2010

Once there was God,
Outside of time,
Waiting in stillness, He knew what to say.
"Let there be light,"
Then there was light,
Shining through darkness to make the first day.

Once was the Word,
He was with God,
God became man, and He showed us the way.
Jesus, our Lord,
Died in our stead,
God's love for all who will truly obey.

Living to serve,
Serving to live,
We are the hands and the voice of our Lord.
He is in us,
We are in Him,
Power of God for those true to His Word.

Glory of God,
Savior of Man,
Jesus is ready, his angels to send.
Heaven awaits,
Those who are true,
Holding the faith of our Lord to the end.

But I'm wondering if it isn't a bit too abstract and impersonal. It is certainly not a first-person experience sort of story. At least the rhythm is consistent.

I get kind of distracted by songs which have a complicated and inconsistent rhythm --- the kind that were originally written to have a lot of instrumentals filling in the blanks. When the instrumentals are redacted for acapella music, sometimes the song just doesn't work as well.

2010-05-01 Archive, Poetry, How Does It Feel

2007-09-21

“How does it feel?” I hear your words.
“How does it feel to write poetry?”
How does it feel? I ask myself.
But I should be asking someone else.

How does it feel, young David,
Lover of stars, keeper of sheep?
How does it feel to stand in the middle,
Surrounded by brothers,
While some old man, the prophet of God,
Pours oil on your head,
‘Till it runs down your neck?
Then he opens his mouth and changes your life
With the words,
“Thus says the Lord, you shall be king.”
And here you are, years later,
Running for life, hiding in caves,
Chased by three thousand.
How does it feel to be running away,
A spear throw from death,
When the words come,
And enter your mind:

“The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want …,
Though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death
I fear no evil,
For You are with me.”

How does it feel, writer of psalms?
Did you eat up the words?
Or chew them well, to memorize them?
Because, God knows,
You did not have
a pen and parchment
To write them down,
while running.

Or you, Georg Frideric Handel,
How does it feel, when the music starts,
And you hear it play, in your mind?
And you frantically write it
For weeks, scarcely eating,
Day and night you keep writing,
To not lose it in sleep.
How does it feel, having captured it all,
“Handel’s Messiah?”
And the rest of your life
You perform it in concerts
To benefit the poor.
How does it feel
When the chorus rings out
In a hallelujah so grand
That even the king
Feels compelled to stand
Before God and His Angels?

“How does it feel to write poetry?”
The feeling’s intense, but not always sad.
But I cry every time as I try to make
The words fit the feelings that I can’t shake.
Sometimes the words don’t fit.

Why isn’t it light, like Tinker-Bell’s laugh?
Or the whisper of wind passing through pines?
Why isn’t it soft, like the patter of rain?
Or a baby’s first smile, from the manger?
Is it because I don’t listen?

2010-04-17 Archive, Science, Traffic 101

Traffic 101.

Sitting at a dead-stop on the freeway, the meter in the on-ramp to my right flashes green, letting yet another car insert itself into the line of cars in front of me. It is flashing "go" every three seconds while the cars on the freeway next to the on-ramp are mostly stopped. I start thinking about traffic. Is there an optimum number of cars which would maximize the throughput of traffic in Cars Per Minute (CPM)?

Two things control the flow of traffic on a freeway. One is the average following distance in seconds (fds) from one car to the next, and the other is the density of traffic measured in cars per mile (cpm) --- not to be confused with Cars Per Minute (CPM).

CPM is absolutely limited by the following distance in seconds (fds). If fds is 1.5 seconds per Car then CPM must be less than 40.

[Warning: Math Detour]
CPM = (60sec/min) / (fds sec/car) = 60 / 1.5 = 40

It does not matter if we make each car zero feet long and travel a million miles an hour, fewer than 40 cars per minute will pass any point on the road (in one lane) when the fds is 1.5.

The speed of traffic on the freeway is limited by both the fds and cpm (cars per mile). Assuming the fds is 1.5 seconds, and the average car length is 12 feet, and the density of traffic is 200 cars-per-mile, then the speed in miles per hour would be 6.5 or less. How do we figure that out?

[Warning: Math Detour]
miles/hour = (ft/sec) * (sec/hour) / (ft/mile)
ft/sec = (5280/cpm - 12) / fds = (5820 / 200 - 12) / 1.5 = 14.3 / 1.5 = 9.6
(sec/hour) / (ft/mile) = 3600 / 5280
mph = 9.6 * (3600 / 5280) = 6.5

But how do we calculate the actual throughput, the number of Cars Per Minute (CPM)?

[Warning: Math Detour]
CPM = (60sec/min) / ((ft/car) / (ft/sec)) = (60sec/min) / (sec/car) = car/min
ft/car = 12 + (5280 - 12 * cpm) / cpm = 5280 / cpm
ft/sec = ((5280 - 12 * cpm) / cpm) / fds = (5280 / cpm - 12) / fds
(ft/car) / (ft/sec) = sec/car
sec/car = (5280 / cpm) / ((5280 / cpm - 12) / fds)
sec/car = (5280 * fds) / (5280 - 12 * cpm)
CPM = 60 * (5280 - 12 * cpm) / (5280 * fds) = (60/fds) - (60 * 12 * cpm) / (5280 * fds)
CPM = 40 - .09 * 200 = 40 - 18 = 22

Assuming an average following distance of 1.5 seconds and a car length of 12 feet, we can simplify the CPM to (40 - .0909 * cpm).

fds cpm mph CPM
1.5 30 74.5 37
1.5 40 54.5 36
1.5 50 42.5 35
1.5 100 18.5 31
1.5 150 10.5 26
1.5 200 6.5 22
1.5 300 2.5 13

What does the previous table show us? It shows us that the maximum available throughput for traffic is always achieved at the maximum available speed. The fewer number of cars per mile, the higher the CPM throughput. There is no magic optimum number of cars to maximize the CPM, it is just a matter of "the fewer the better" up to number of cars able to go the maximum speed.

Given a rush-hour density of 150 cars-per-mile for a 5-mile stretch of (one-lane) highway, for a time period of one hour, how many cars are on the road within that hour, and what is the number of Cars Per Minute?

[Warning: Math Detour]
At 150 cpm we have 26 CPM at a speed of 10.5 mph.
26 CPM * 60 min = 1560 cars
1560 cars + 150 cars/mile * 5 miles = 1560 + 750 = 2310 cars
2310 cars / 26 CPM = 88.8 minutes

It takes a total of 88.8 minutes to remove all 2310 of the cars on or entering the freeway in one hour at a density of 150 cars per mile.

Given the same number of cars (2310), if the density of traffic is limited to 40 cars-per-mile, for the same 5-mile stretch of (one-lane) highway, how long will it take for all the cars to pass the end, what would the speed be, and what is the CPM?

[Warning: Math Detour]
Forty cpm gives us 54.5 mph, and 36 CPM
2310 cars / 36 CPM = 64.2 minutes

When exactly the same number of cars (2310) need to use the freeway, a density of 150 cars per mile takes 88.8 minutes to move all the cars, but keeping the density down to 40 cpm moves the same number of cars over the same stretch of freeway in only 64.2 minutes, a difference of 24.6 minutes.

Which brings us back to "metered" on-ramps. I would like to make the following suggestions:

1. Every entrance to a freeway or section of freeway should be metered. Even when the entrance comes from another freeway.

2. Like modern "WALK" lights, the meters in the on-ramp should count down the seconds until the next green light. This gives the driver at the front of the line information about how long he will have to wait.

3. Meters should be controlled by a radar gun measuring the speed of the traffic for the on-ramp, not by a sensor in the road counting cars. The "Ramp Meter Design Manual" for the state of California apparently uses "Passage Loops: Inductive loops placed downstream of the limit line to detect passing vehicles," to measure "VPH: Vehicles per hour." But VPH gives no clue about how fast the traffic is moving. It cannot tell the difference between light, fast traffic, and heavy, slow traffic. The VPH can be the same. If the traffic is moving as fast as, or faster than, the posted limit, then the meter may allow cars to enter the freeway. This will automatically slow down the traffic.

4. Metered on-ramps should be allowed to feed traffic into a freeway like a reverse version of water-rights owners pumping water out of a river. That is, each on-ramp should be assigned a specified amount of potential traffic space downstream from the entrance. Upstream on-ramps should not be allowed to fill up the freeway, preventing downstream on-ramps from using their assigned traffic space.

5. Outside of each entrance to a metered on-ramp, far enough back where each driver could decide to change lanes and take an alternate route, there should be a sign in lights that says " WAIT ## MIN." Like the signs at Disneyland queues which say, "the estimated wait from this point is ## minutes," a wait sign would give drivers the ability to choose how they want to travel to their destination. Do I want to enter the on-ramp and wait 15 minutes, knowing that once I'm on the freeway it will only be another 7 minutes to where I'm going? Or, do I decline to wait for 20 minutes, change lanes and take a local street, knowing I can get there in 25 minutes without using the freeway?

6. What if there is more traffic wanting to get onto a freeway, than the best Cars-Per-Minute throughput will handle? In that case, the meters should not allow them onto the freeway! If the CPM is already maxed out for the speed limit, it is only going to move far fewer cars by allowing the freeway to be overcrowded. People will still get to their destination sooner, even if they have to wait 30 minutes to get onto a freeway which is moving traffic at its maximum speed and number of Cars-Per-Minute.

Drive Well,
Logan