eclectika

The Light By Nabih Saliba I light the path for all to see They shall not trip because of me How great I am that darkness flee I do all this without a fee And so it went each night for lamp Who proudly thought itself a champ But then one evening came a tramp His clothes were worn, and torn, and damp He staggered left, he stumbled right He should not try to walk at night The drunkard fell into the light Thrown from the lamp with disdain bright Why should I help this man below? He’s far beneath me don’t you know His lesser breeding clearly show This beggar can’t deserve my glow And so the lamp let darkness fall On he who lay there in a ball As shadows grew both thin and tall The lamp stood off for one and all Then suddenly the night time fled As from each corner more light bled The lamp looked ‘round and scratched its head Who brings such light? It loudly said “Your humble servant,” in reply Don’t mind me up in the sky ...

Spare Angel by Nabih Saliba He sat with his defeated stare I wondered what had put him there. "Poor soul," I thought and looked at him, as he bared forth his toothless grin. "Dear God," I prayed inside my head "If you don't help, he'll soon be dead!" Within my soul, I heard a His voice, "I've sent my angel so rejoice!" I looked around and tried to spot The angel that this fellow got When in the window I could see The angel sent by God was me

A Hair Upon His Pillow by Nabih Saliba A hair upon his pillow The scent of old perfume Both obvious reminders Someone else had shared his room There's laughter in the shower And a shirt still on the floor Just another indicator Of a night that is no more The lipstick on his collar Has been washed but still exists Like many other memories It's faded but persists The picture in his wallet Holds a copy of her smile He'd look at it quite often Though he hasn't in a while Her clothes hang in the closet Her toothbrush by the sink Now every time he sees them It makes him stop and think The bottles on the counter The wheelchair by the bed Not the promise of tomorrow But what happened here instead There's a hair upon his pillow Not a taunt to bring him strife But a blessed testimony Someone else had shared his life

Connection By Nabih Saliba To reach out in the darkness and think that we’re alone Is very often scary and chills us to the bone Yet in a world of sorrow, deep despair and solitude One simple thing connects us be it clothed or in the nude: That thing which makes us human, the quiet spark that we call life It’s the hope that we keep burning when we’re faced with pain and strife So in our isolation there is something we condone A flicker in the shadow, a thing remembered and well known It’s always all around us–far away and in our home Each friendship, love and partner that we dare to call our own Our lives are short and simple in the larger scheme of things And yet we waste time flirting with all that hatred brings Rise up and shout, “I’ve had it! I will play this game no more!” Then pull back on the curtains and unlock your brave heart’s door To build a real connection with another human soul Could be no truer purpose, or a mission or a goal For w...

“Head down this road until you come to street with a large metal sculpture on the corner,” she said with a comforting sense of certainty in her voice. “Don’t turn there but keep going about two more blocks and you’ll see it on the right,” she finished with a smile. I repeated the directions to her and began driving down the road looking for what turned out to be a three-foot bronze piece obscured by a newspaper box—truly a marker for where not to turn. We’ve all received or even given directions like this at one point or another: clear and simple directions based on what not to do. It got me wondering about all the other types of journeys we convolute in a similar fashion. How does one find their way physically, emotionally and even spiritually in a world where tangents are easier to follow than the road itself? I was headed home from the printer ( Colorstep ) after approving poster designs for Madcap Theater . The air was crisp with Fall and the sun was beginning another glori...

Christmas is often described with many extremes—the happiest time of the year, one of the most emotionally difficult days for many who suffer depression, a controversial affront to the politically correct and even a giant commercial ploy to extract cash from all of the aforementioned. My Christmas day is finally coming to a close and I’m sitting here thinking to myself, “If today isn’t the reason for being…what is?” Perhaps I should elaborate the origins of that last statement before rambling forth with incoherent drivel about The Season, Holiday cheer and other such clichés… As evidenced by my lack of activity here [on this blog], my life has been filled with many competing demands for my time. During the past few months, I’ve become very involved with an Improv comedy club called Madcap Theater , helped my wife design and establish GreatIdeasForKids.com and enjoyed watching my children grow up into precocious little challenges. It has also been a time of soul-searching. I’ve bee...

Life, especially for me, is full of surprises. I’d like to say I was one of those amazing people who have it all figured out. I’d love to say that my life has turned out exactly the way I planned but I can’t. The honest truth is that the closest thing to a plan for my life was the vague and arrogant thought that I was meant for something more than whatever I was currently doing. Looking at it now, I suppose you could simply call it restlessness. While the reasons for my current situation span the gamut from “dumb luck” to “divine providence,” I can only testify to the results—two beautiful children, a wonderful wife and the luxury of being able to spend as much time with them as they’ll tolerate. Most of my life, I’ve managed to just ‘get by’ on the bare minimum of effort. As a result, I also mysteriously managed to reap the bare minimum of success. All my life I have been told by friends, teachers, pastors and parents that I wasn’t living up to my true potential. Somewhere in the ...

Every once in a while, as I stand in some supermarket checkout line, I’ll glance at the tabloids: The National Enquirer , The Weekly World News or The Star . Often, I’m satisfied to just laugh at the paper right there in the stand. Sometimes, the headlines catch my curiosity enough that I’ll actually purchase the rag and take it home for a few laughs. While there may be some that consider these papers to be the only true news, most (myself included) think of them as comic distractions. Every week it’s some new sensational headline about Elvis, aliens, governments, Nostradamus, the end of the world and Jesus. Sometimes, the headline manages to contain all of these things at the same time. Whatever can be said about the tabloids, no one can deny that the reporting style is designed to wow you into buying their paper. Apparently threatened by the tabloids, news agencies have decided to fight sensationalism with even more sensationalism. News items are now events complete with their o...

Victor was one of those children with an overdeveloped mean streak—if there was a fly to lose its wings or an ant to be burned, he was the chief executioner. Victor was also one of those kids always being sent to the principal’s office or running laps for the coach. Most parents had Victor’s parents on speed dial. When it was time to learn a new dirty word, we’d all go to Victor for our next lesson—the boy was the professor of profanity. Victor had the first collection of porn any of us had ever laid eyes on. He was also the one that showed us how to decipher breasts and other parts of the female body squiggling in and out on scrambled cable channels. Eventually our parents branded Victor a ‘problem child’ and his underground popularity grew like kudzu. As we got older, we saw less of Victor as his punishments began to involve authorities with a little more clout than the school principal. It was Victor who tried to shoplift some candy from the local drug store. When the school pla...

Once upon a time there was a pear. This pear was quite plump and all the other pears aspired to be as juicy. On sunny days, the pear would make sure to find a leaf or two that could provide adequate shade. No one knew exactly how the pear had become so plump and juicy. Some of the other pears speculated that it had retained all the water intended for some of the less fortunate pears on the branch while others simply reckoned it was blessed to be that way. One thing everyone could agree upon was that the pear was destined for something great. The pear itself knew the other pears were jealous but it couldn’t be bothered with such petty affairs—it was, after all, destined for greatness. Summer was coming to a close and all the pears were busy making their final preparations for the harvest season. Some would be chosen and others, if they had not grown enough, would be left to the birds and the fall frosts. Most of the pears were busy drinking up as much water as they could and spent t...

I have a confession to make. I’ve been having an affair now for the past several years. I've known her since we were kids but grew distant in high school. It wasn't until many years later when standing in line at the DMV that I bumped into her again. Having her with me in that line reminded me how much I enjoyed her company. We saw each other quite regularly after that until I met my wife a few years later. During the first year of my marriage, I couldn't maintain the affair but would often wonder if I'd ever see her again. It wasn’t until the second year with my wife that I started to rekindle the affair and found that things would go better at home after each encounter. When my son was born, of course, there were a few months when I didn’t make the effort to keep up the affair and lost touch with her entirely. These were dark days of stress and unhappiness. Eventually, I started sneaking her into the house and became less frantic. Looking back, it's a wonder I...

During my elementary and high school years, my father and I spent quite a bit of time discussing my future. I was of the opinion that school was simply a waste of my time and true potential. He thought I was going to be homeless. I say that my father and I discussed this during my elementary and high school years but the debate actually chased me into college. Eventually my dad gave up the fight and I dropped out of college. Armed with my low earning power, I ventured out into the world to prove my old man wrong. You know, it's really surprising how much employers care about a diploma. You could, in fact, show up for a job wielding the ever useful 'Bachelors of [the dead language] Latin Philosophy' and become the company's next big thing. I had to depend on my charm and good looks to achieve gainful employment. After the 3rd summer of living with my parents, losing my girlfriend and floating enough credit card debt to make M.C. Hammer look more like Charles Schwab, ...

My wife has secretly replaced her breasts with methane canisters. Every time she feeds our new baby girl, it isn't long before my daughter sounds like the trombone section of my high school band. While amusing, it loses its charm at 2am. I spend most of the evening between burping her and fearing the diaper change. Why fear change? Changing this baby's diaper is much like taking the cover off a cannon. I once saw a documentary about some birds in Africa that seal themselves up inside a tree leaving just a tiny opening through which they receive food and dispose of it. My daughter's range and accuracy reminds me of these birds. When the trumpeting and projectile pooping settles down, my little baby girl then decides that sleep is overrated and proceeds to stare at me. This is not the "are you my daddy? I think I love you" kind of stare. It is the, "I'm going to chew up your mind, body and soul before sunrise" look. No blinking, no smiles. Just two...

When I was a much younger child than I am now, there was a song we used to sing called, "This little light of mine." I think the words were something along the lines of, "this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...all around the neighborhood, I'm gonna let it shine...hide it under a bushel? NO! I'm gonna let it shine...let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..." The lyrics were about sharing one's beliefs with the world so that others could benefit from the blessings given you. While something gets lost without the music, the lyric's message to me have recently been found. I believe that each of us has a part to play in the shaping of our world. Some influence the course of events in grand, sweeping strokes open to the scrutiny and criticism of all. Others simply keep the wheels turning my maintaining status quo—both are equally valid forms of social participation. In the last several years, however, I've noticed a trend both ...

Just off the well-traveled road of life is an interesting detour through a field of tidbits that surround the mountain obscura—its highest peaks cradling the Shrine of Trivia. Many have made the trip but few have done more than gather at the mountain's base for a spell before finding something useful to do. Guarded closely by irrelevance, the mighty walls of this great temple allow passage to a select few—dedicated monks who have taken the solemn vow of mediocrity. Those who have clawed their way up through the mountain's chaffy forest will soon find themselves caught up in a series of trials. For the first trial, one must successfuly negotiate the garden maze of minutiae—many who enter this maze become so caught up in the garden's intricate distractions that they never leave. Should you look away from the garden long enough to notice the threadbare rope of timely quips, a quick social climb will bring you to the platau of disappointment. It is here that most decide the...

Something is wrong with me. I no longer seem able to reconcile every aspect of my tidy and organized life. Somewhere, somehow, someone or some thing has sabotaged the simple order of my world. I'm not sure exactly when I first noticed it but things aren't working the way they're supposed to anymore. The many pieces of my life no longer fit together as perfectly as they once did. Like an old clockwork, some of my favorite excuses are worn and missing teeth. New components I thought could replace old or missing ones don't fit quite as they should and the idea of adding new machinations to the delicate balance of my routine fill me with dread. For someone who's prided himself on a deep self understanding, these latest malfunctions are quite alarming—there has to be a clearly defined point of corruption. Perhaps it's my relationships? We all know that getting married can change things. Maybe I married prematurely? What if I married the wrong person? Is there su...