Cory B. Scott's Blog, page 4

Memories of Mom

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The poem below was written for my mom. It is also an attempt to reason with the passing of time, memory, and regret.  I loved my mom and had a very difficult and unbalanced bond with her.  Unfortunately, our relationship was strained because of her beliefs and stubborn desire to control my understanding of faith and God.  From a young age, she took charge of my relationship with God and felt it was her sacred duty to nurture and control it.  This of course created a rift and a distaste in me for faith.  

Memories of Mom

I walk through the fields extending my hands to feel a touch from above, eyes wide open.

It’s the beginning of spring, the rains have come, And the grass has grown higher than my head.

I feel careless and carefree, mesmerized by the music of wind and breeze, through the blades and leaves, relishing the glorious green, denying the changing of seasons will rob me of her spring.

I walk, hands still extended grazing the tops of the fading wildflowers and wilting grasses, my eyes darting from pasture to meadow.  

I walk through the fields, hands in my armpits, hugging myself, my feet crunch the frozen grass and fallen leaves, my watering eyes now closed.

I am huddled in my coat against the dark and cold that now blows through the meadows once green now white and gold, as a new tune begins to unfold.

Memories singing ever more gloriously now as they fade and surrender to reminiscences now rendered softer for the grace of time.

The melody now intones that the Green was of the most magnificent Emerald And the gold the purest ray of SON  ––– C.B. Scott

I Thought of My Father While Shaving

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As the holidays roll around, I find I truly miss some people in my life. My parents I miss the most. My dad has been on my mind the greatest this last week.
To all of you missing people this time of year, please, enjoy a little poem I wrote for Dad. I will post one for my Mom next week.

I Thought of My Father While Shaving

I thought of my father today while shaving, Since his death, it’s answers that I’ve been craving.

Reminiscences flood my mind from yesteryear, As I stand frozen before my mirror.

I recall looking up at a face much like mine, Memories are sporadic from somewhere back in time.

Recollections of the two of us, standing before a different mirror, Echoes of timeless reflections, so dear.

I see him, so bright, razor in hand, foam on face. Him, looking down at me from a wiser place.

He’s clearing his throat through a hidden foam frown, and saying: “Son, remember, your strokes must always go down.”

I recall, he would giggle and grin as his beard became thin, And I’d think– I can’t wait to be him.

I thought of my father today while shaving, In his absence, it’s answers that I’ve been craving

For today, when I look down from the mirror, what do I see? Two little ones of my own staring up at me.

In my mind, the questions start again, will I ever be free? How will these two sets of eyes, someday, reflect on me?

Will I be extended the same kindness and grace? When they, someday, reflect on this tired old face.

Will they recall my advice and guidance, and will it be enough? Will they be prepared for when life gets crazy, when life gets tough?

Fear is fogging my mind and the mirror, yet, I can clearly see, I do not shave as my father taught it to me

For in this life now I have found, It takes an upward stroke to keep those whiskers down

Not all advice will be heeded; not all advice will be taken, But dear God, help me guide these little ones to the path that should be taken.

No, not all advice is heeded, not all advice is taken. But Dad, my heart still longs for you whenever I am shaving.

CB Scott

Excerpt from: God’s In the Garden Coming February 10th. 2020 Available for preorder now

Not One Drop Reached the Floor of the Ocean

You were never to begin although summers
come to an end. Neither wayward eyes nor watering skies could ever divert your
devotion. Not one drop reaches the floor of the ocean.

You are still yearning, dried and cracked, like some parched African plain, stretched and taut, yet burning, not one drop reaches the floor of the ocean.

Oh what could have been, it was all there but for a swift wind, a stumbling stone, and a blade never honed, and not one drop reaches the floor of the ocean.

All you wanted was to shine, to help, to make a difference, and the overwhelming desire to do so became the purpose and before you could start you were done, and yet, not one drop reaches the floor of the ocean.

The wolves caught your scent and when they were finished with you, not a drop was left. No, not one drop reached the floor of the ocean.

CB Scott Nov. 22, 2019

Excerpt from: God’s In the Garden
Coming February 10th. 2020
Available for preorder now

The Parasitic Frog

[image error] By Sharing Courage, Love, and Hope, We Find a Future Never Imagined

A young frog, Hendrix, meets his match when he attempts to rob a professor, Marshall, who talks the thug out of robbing him and into taking a quest to find three noble truths. Hendrix accepts the professor’s challenge, intrigued by the old frog’s courage and insight. But the challenge winds up taking both frogs on a wild, life-changing journey. The three noble truths not only bring hope and life to the thug, but they also remind the old frog of his real purpose. The adventures lead to changes, not just for Hendrix and Marshall, but for all the destitute frogs who live in the surrounding stagnate swamps. The thug and professor make an unlikely pair who wind up learning more from each other than either thought possible. Many of us came up with several of the same struggles. This short allegorical story is about overcoming personal and life obstacles. It is about finding our passion as we discover or re-engage with our purpose.

Praying for Scissors

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I learned to accept that I would not be able to understand God in my mortal form. Although I was doing my best to hear him and interpret his words or actions in my life, he was doing his own thing, and the two very different Gods never merged.

I became satisfied with the presence that I imagined was there. I had many miracles in my life that let me know that there was no doubt there was something out there that loved and cared for me. I grew satisfied with the anemic explanations that made no real sense to me. If I wanted the God of my religion to stay entrenched in my mind, I would need to learn to live with it.

I allowed myself to become complacent with my understanding of my creator and that opened the doors for some nasty abuse from leaders who were masterminds of manipulation and extortion.

There seemed to be a pattern that started with my mother’s teachings, compounded by the youth pastor when I was in my seminary program, and continued throughout various stages of my life. I was controlled by the guilt, teachings, and twisting of scripture. I gave up large chunks of my life to men of God who knew I was a capable and strong individual who had been indoctrinated with certain teachings that made me malleable to manipulators.

I had somehow allowed a collar of slavery made up of religious conviction to be placed around my neck. It was used to dictate what I would do, whom I would support, and who I would destroy for those smart enough to use my convictions against me. I was deceived, I was well on my way out of the garden, and I was alone searching for something to hold onto that gave me purpose and peace.

I allowed bad teaching to manipulate me into believing God was responsible for my woes and the continuous flow of bad leaders in my life. If I never took this journey, I may have spent the rest of my life thinking this way.

While doing research for another subject I was writing about, I came across this little nugget of truth.

If we have come to terms with authority early in life, we become better able to deal with authority figures, good and bad, whom we meet later. We need neither to reject them out of hand, nor to kiss their feet. We also have a better chance of recognizing when their behavior is inappropriate. If, in our youth, we haven’t worked through those issues with authority figures and developed the ego strength to stand up to a bad leader, we are likely to go on repeating that behavior. Again, and again, we may seek out bad authority experiences to prove to ourselves that this time we can do it. Yet, when the latest repetition slips into familiar acquiescence, our tolerance for bad leaders only increases, convincing us that we are truly helpless against them (Lipman-Blumen).

Wow, that sounds a lot like my life. But wait that means something went wrong inside me not outside me.  I now have lingering doubts about Gods culpability where my life is concerned. I have to take responsibility for my view of Him and how I placed myself in positions to be taken advantage of.

I received bad teaching, but I never left it because it was comfortable for me. Dr. Lipman-Blumen continues to explain this phenomenon:

Such early training—mostly by parents—conditions us to replicate childhood behavior in adulthood. The parental replacement—the boss, the CEO, even some spouses—willingly provides guidelines, albeit festooned with prizes and punishments. This inherent need for authority figures is difficult to root out, despite our childhood fantasy of making our own decisions. The resulting ambivalence creates a vacuum that can be filled only by another demanding individual who inspires awe, peppered with occasional terror. As adults, we frequently continue to obey authority (Lipman-Blumen).

If I replace the CEO/Boss with God, I can see why I made him into something I loved and feared. I think every sincere seeker of God must come to a point in their lives where they are brave enough to see the truth of why they do what they do. Brave enough not to blame some outside entity and take personal responsibility.

I was the problem all along. I was seeking out these leaders because I had a need to “Get it right this time” and though I had good intentions each time I was not able to see that these men were actually corrupt manipulators and I was never going to get it right. Moreover, I started to believe that God was putting me in these situations because I was not learning my lesson.

We must make these arguments and love God enough to be willing to seek and indeed find who he is, where he is. As the scripture says, he who seeks me will find me when he seeks me with all his heart.

***Excerpts from Gods in the Garden by Cory B. Scott and  The Allure of Toxic Leaders: Why We Follow Destructive Bosses and Corrupt Politicians–and How We Can Survive Them by Jean Lipman-Blumen

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God's In the Garden - Available February 10, 2020, Preorder Now!!!!!

Predator of the Deep and Impressionable

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Follow the Light?

When I was a young ministry student I was torn about my desire to attend a real college or to continue on with a seminary program I was being pressured to renew with. One night I prayed from dusk till dawn in the church sanctuary with praise and worship music playing and me begging God to say something.

I was a bit of a romantic and an idiot.  I received nothing for hours as I was sitting there on the floor of the sanctuary, looking up at a backlit cross on the wall above the podium at the front of the church.  Then a thought came to me.  The only light in the room came from the backlight behind this big cross on the wall.  The notion that came to me was more of a question, “What material is that cross made of?”

I hadn’t realized that I had no idea what the massive cross on the wall of the sanctuary was made of.  Even though I sat through countless sermons and events in this room and must have seen the cross a thousand times, I could not answer this question.  I did not know if the cross was wood, metal, or any other material.

Then the thought occurred to me, “You will never know what is ahead of you, but if you keep your eyes on the light you will get where you need to go.”

This was a beautiful revelation, and as I sat there thinking about it, I realized this was the first time I had heard God speak to me.  I understood what he was saying.   I did not know what the material of the cross was made of because the light behind it blocked the crosses material from view; I would not be told what comes next in my life, I just had to follow the light.  I had to trust that there was a light and if I kept my eyes on the light I would get there; wherever “there” is.  I decided to forgo college and finish the next two years of the seminary program.

Well, nearly 30 years later, I can say I have done my best, in spite of significant obstacles, to follow the light.   I struggled to follow what I understood to be the light.  I can also say I am pretty pissed that the light turned out to be nothing more than a mirage.  I was a romantic idiot who was willing to follow ambiguous direction from something just as vague and peripheral.  I was a small fish in the deepest parts of the dark ocean following a beautiful light and thinking it is something awesome just before the faint appearance of the sharp protruding fangs and teeth of the Anglerfish.

I think receiving messages from God can be inspirational, it certainly inspired me to follow.  However, as this journey is an endeavor, to be honest, I wonder now how much of that message received in the sanctuary was hearing God and how much was just my wanting to hear anything.  Looking back, it is always easy to question.  I may just need to hold on another 30 years until it all makes sense and gods plan is revealed.  Or, I may wait for another 30 until something finally goes my way and then I can say Gods plan has finally been revealed.  In either case, it is the interpretation of the human that determines whether it is a god.  It is not God himself; this is a problem for me in my current state of mind.   Humans can be snakes; they can mislead us, take advantage of us and destroy us.  But the most deadly and misleading snake in my life may actually be me.

*** Excerpts from the Book Gods in the Garden

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God's In the Garden-Available 2/10/20, Preorder Now!!!!!