Toxicodendron diversilobum- (Poison Oak) it is infectious, spreads by a person touching the leaves, stems or roots. It is not spread by touching other people who have it or by scratching a rash. Other myths are that if the plant is dead it can no longer affect you, wrong, the plant has an something called urushiol oil which is gives people the rash. This past weekend the entire camp was littered with the stuff and if you diverted from the path for on second you would be entangled into a mire of criss-crossed plant known for its trinity of leaves. This plant has effected me profoundly in the past week for a number of non-physical reasons, one being that I have found that though I am suffering from its effect. Not physically suffering from its potent cocktail, but similarly suffering from similar effects of rash, boils, and red irritation of the soul. In the past few years I have constantly struggled with the psychological warfare within my mind of a non-commitment to Christ in all areas of my life. From time to time I have been able to separate myself from the rash and red stain so common with this sin, but not two weeks ago.
I know my own pit falls and the things that cause myself to struggle and fall and instead of waring against those things I let the enemy encampment lie at my doorstep. I failed my God, my family and myself.
Thomas Dylan-
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
