Category Archives: What I’m About — Mission Statement

When Truth Is Revealed: Mission Statement ImproVerse Haibun

She and I often sit in the throes of great deep philosophical and spiritual discussions about our life and lives, about existence and our place in it, about the purpose and meaning of life and how we fit and what we should do. How can we best serve our fellow men and women? What does God want us to do and can we do it and how should we do it?

Often, the Spirit teaches us great and grand truths. We put our hands over our hearts and exclaim: WOW! This is true truth! This is real.” And we smile and we feel motivated and inspired and we keep talking and we keep learning.

When this happens, hopefully a notepad and a pen or pencil will be handy and we’ll write down the truths that the Spirit is teaching us and we’ll take direction and inspiration and plans and dreams and we’ll capture them. And we only look at back at them later and maybe we will say “Yes!This is a great thing, a great truth!” And we’ll print them and put them up on our walls and use them as benchmarks and inspiration to what we should do and how we are doing.

What is Unwritten Truth?

Many times, too often really, we don’t take the time to write down the truth we’re learning. Sometimes the truths come so quickly that we can barely keep up in our own minds what they are, as they lap over on each other and grow and intertwine and intermingle and we see the visions and rejoice in what God is teaching us. So we don’t write them down. And sometimes we’re just too lazy to go find that piece of paper and pencil. We think to ourselves: “We will write it down later. This is so fantastic and so deep and so rich we will never forget it.”

But we do. Then, those truths and those heartfelt visions fade, fade,  fade away and are lost unless or until God sees fit to reprimand us, and maybe remind us of what we should have captured the first time and done the first time.

Vanishing Taught Truths Haiku

Socrates discussed,/
taught, learned. Did those truths vanish,/
too, the way ours do?

How Can I Help? Mission Statement Prose Stream-of-Thought

It’s as if God is saying “Dave, you’re the role model of somebody who left that corporate rat race. You are to build a life this way, more relaxed.”

People are thinking: “We don’t need six figure incomes. We can live simply and have everything we need. But we’re scared. We don’t know how.” What I’m thinking is that God is saying “I need somebody to show those people that they can be that way, that they don’t need all that stuff.”

Not Completely Off-Grid Living

People need to understand that they don’t need to go from the big-city living to off-grid immediately. In fact, a simpler life doesn’t need to be going completely off-grid. It doesn’t need to be that deep. My audience are those people who are caught in the rat race, who are saying “There’s got to be something different, something better, something I can do, and somehow I can do it. But how?” It’s looking at a life that says “I’m so used to making $80, $90, $100, $120k, a year. Can I make $40k or $50k a year and live out in Winneconne or Ringgold or Panguitch or somewhere else and be happy?”

Part of my mission with NaturesGuy.com  and with this blog is to tell them “Yes, it’s possible!”and to give them the courage to do it. That doesn’t mean to do it like me, like our way of doing it, but to do it in their own way, the way they want to.

The biggest truth is that so many people are wanting to leave, but they simply don’t know how, and they think it’s too difficult.

What if it’s not?

Write What? Improv Free Verse

What happens if you’re supposed to write,
but you don’t know what to create about?
Do you just keep writing
until something comes?Is it like eating breakfast cereal?
You don’t really know why
or how much to eat,
but you know you have to fuel your body?

Is it like that except for your mind and soul?
I’ve seen that vision of
sitting on the stump in the woods and writing.

At this moment, though,
I’m stumped
as to what I should write about.
And it’s hot and humid
and the bugs are buzzing
and I once saw where Tennessee Williams
wrote A Streetcar Named Desire
in the old French Quarter in New Orleans
(I wrote a STELLA poem about it!)
and I wonder how he stood it

with no air conditioning,
sitting in a room
in a brick walk up
in the French Quarter’s
sweltering oppressive heat.Why does no great literature
come out of sub-zero freezing pain?
Can I, as a Yankee transplant,
tap into that creative energy
that oozes like sweat-made tea
and humidity,
that soaks the back of shirts
in Rorschach patterns
along the spines
of men and women?