Happy Thanksgiving. . . my heart’s gratitude. . .

How Much Of A Difference. . .

It was morning,
though the night still hung heavy;
the clouds hovered,
the sun unable to rise.

The children gathered for breakfast;
morose and angry,
heavy still with sleep.
Mother looked with unhappy eyes
and father, already delayed
flew out the door.

What could she plan
for this crew this night, she wondered,
as she scrutinized each face
when they exited.

That night the same faces
appeared to sup together;
hostile, unable to summon
the good things of the day.
Seated, they glowered
and the mother, with hope
passed the platter.

Have some love, she murmured
as she handed the plate to the eldest.
Puzzled, he helped himself
and in unbelief said to his sibling,
have some love.

And around the table the faces changed
as the platter of love was passed
and with a whisper bestowed its blessing
by each and every one.
The father then picked up a plate to share
and to his surprise murmured,  I pass peace.

And around the table peace was passed
to accompany the main course of love
and talks resumed and the world
was given another chance.

On a level we cannot enter,
we cannot know how much of a difference
it takes to make a difference.

Or how little.

(It is my favorite holyday.  I share my heart’s gratitude for your time and comments.  When time is the one thing we can share,  I especially am grateful for your gift.  I treat it with great care and reverence and hope I give something of value in return.  It truly is my heart’s gratitude.)

1

A Need To Know. . .

 

In the sixties I wrote a poem called Resolution which ended with the following lines.

(excerpt from Resolution)

I have come into the Light
but what to do?
On the day I was one, I became two.
Now I am two.

What to do but seek and seek again
until I find I walk this earth

not godless.

And following ten years later I wrote having chosen the Nazarene as my mentor. . .

(excerpt from Cactus Jesus)

You said that when I knew you,
I would know me.
We are gods on common ground,
knowing we choose our own Golgotha.
Seeking your divinity,

I found my own.

(from journal entry October 16, 2015. . the teacher speaks.)  and the god within had a voice needed to be heard and accounted for.  You wrote those words a half century ago.  Yet you never tried to unwrap them because the need was not there for them yet and neither was there the courage to respond with a yeah, now  I am not godless.  You have the Within God and this has been the secret with the many. You have known of it for sometime and long before you were already talking about marching orders and that was when the children were small and needed the teacher mother on hand to give them their enchanted childhood.  You know even now that you were given the necessary guidance at the time.

We know the involuntary knowledge puts you on some edge of something.  Should you stand and speak for the god within what would you say that would be convincing?   Does the average person want the tyrant task master of your life who has been your goad for over 85 years?  Coupled with your mother’s jenny genes?  What of those who find that they can talk down the desires of that inner god and outplay him/her and quiet their conscience? 

I asked my friend Kath why she went to church on Sunday.  She said she hoped that what Jesus said was true.  Knock and the door shall be opened.  I don’t think a knock would be heard in these days of devices and loud noises.  I had to crash the gates to be heard.  There is a Comforter or a god within that is to be heard bringing to mind all we had forgotten to remember.  A friend laughingly said it was an argument as to what we remember and what we need to learn.  A need to know was my ohm and armor.  And what kept the bridge at a safe distance.

0

From Where Did You Come ? . .

On September 28, 2017 I posted  a segment  called Angels Unaware.  It was about a dream I had that stayed with me and was highly detailed.  A young teacher of hearing impaired students was teaching them how to read people and speak with almost perfect diction.  The dream stayed with me and because it was highly emotional,  I wrote about it.  The topic was one of how our bodies wish to accommodate us by using its totality when parts of us are not working.

When parts fail, other parts of our bodies will take over and lend themselves to fulfilling those functions no longer working.  When eyesight fails, other parts of the body will take over and help us to see though our eyes no longer work.

I don’t pretend to understand how bodies work or why my own body works the way it does.  My family, both birth family and one I married into just never spoke about these differences except to caution me to be careful what I said in public.  It killed spontaneity and because our livelihood depended on the public’s good graces,  I seldom spoke in public.  Because I was a voracious reader I taught the psychiatrists much about phenomena.  One even suggested we bottle creativity and make a fortune.

Imagine my surprise when I read in USA TODAY on November 13, 2017 that sensors will be built into walls and household products  and clothes and perhaps into our own body to respond to how we are feeling and thinking.  They will be built into the internet of things (IoT) and become fused with artificial intelligence.  And unbelievably,  Facebook is working on technology that will let you “hear” with your skin.  I am not sure where I first learned of the body’s ability to refine parts to substitute for the parts that fail, nor in what world,  but I learned many years ago of the body’s ability to see when eyes fail.

I had a friend who often said to people don’t laugh today because next week you will be a believer. Please remember when speaking to a child that the child is much closer to their source than you are.  More often than not they remember from where they came.  When was the last time (if ever) you gave thought from where did you come?

0

Hunger For Knowledge. . .

Hunger For Knowledge. . .

The hunger for knowledge knows no bounds and the kind of acceptance which bespeaks the heart which no longer cares enough to fight for its own existence nor the existence of an Other will soon lose the fight altogether.

Caring is in style.  Nurturing is in style one way or another.  What is needed is the educated mind which will carry the argument complete with commitment and put priority on that which will sustain the life for humankind.

The greater picture is paramount to survival.  The importance of the microscopic family is only a version of the larger family of man.  The survival of the larger unit depends handily on the survival of the smaller one.  And our own action will depend on the latter.  And there are those for whom even this knowledge is evaded or hidden.

And they who know how much there is to learn are well on their way toward the beginning where mind is All.

Who I Am. . .

I am the dream
that came to awaken
the sleeper that was me.

And now I take
the utmost care
in harnessing the glimpses
of a soul in motion.

Somewhat tardy, I think
and I say in this case,
quite late.
I’ve waited too long.

And the dream
is no longer about
who I was but is now

about who I am.

0

Taking It Personally. . .

Taking It Personally     . . . (we were having breakfast with a young friend)

From a journal entry after the breakfast. . . . the Teacher speaks . . . Your justification of man at the breakfast table yesterday proved a point.  The mate said that Jacob was not what you thought  him to be.  And you had said that you could only take your frame of reference and apply it to other people.  And if you endowed them with the highest and best that you knew and the depth,  then that was not such a bad thing to do.  If you generalized in such a manner then you indeed endowed them.  The young friend was surprised and his eyebrows shot up.  A nice gesture.  You are familiar with it.

You justified all men and hoped that someone would be around for your justification when you needed it.  Will you need to be justified?  You think all men do.  But will you?  Have you done to the best of your ability what you know to do?  Have you swept every corner of your mind?  Is there that which yet must be brushed clean?

Only you will know this in the days to come.  Only you will know it when you are pressed by emotions still to be filtered.  You think what yet?

Only what is ours to choose.  And if you choose nothing more, nothing more is required.

It is not an easy route you have chosen to do.  Nor is it one that most would find themselves on.  You take it all and then apply it to yourself.  You are said to take it all personally.  And personally is the only way to process information for any meaning to be applied.  It must be personal.  It must be meant for you.  If it is not personal,  you are a passer through. . .

From The Beginning. . .

Except in the quiet of the night
when the demons plague
the early hours and the babies
cannot sleep that the pleadings
are ignored.

It is when the ghosts trip the light
and hide beneath the covers with
the bodies that sweat.  And shake
and rattle the headboards. . .
It is when the praying begins and
the begging does not stop.
You know that as well as I. . .

We have heard it since
the beginning of time.
And advantages taken and innocents
pay to assuage the egos that cry
for their mamas.  What to do. . . what to do?

The fathers will not leave their warm beds
to hug their sons and lay waste
to their fears.  And tell them that the love
they left will always be there for them,
for the fathers do not know.
They still cry for the warm arms
they know and the pain does not let up.

One day every inlet of the sea
and in every cove of the dunes
beside the sea we will see that life
is fair and sweet and good.
And in every imaginable
hiding place life will prosper

as it was meant to from the beginning.

 

0

Crashing The Cosmic Gates. . .

 

Crashing The Cosmic Gates. . .

 

If you are not gun shy after being shot,  then you don’t understand the purpose of a  gun.

*****

The soul tries on all attitudes to see which one fits the present world one lives in.

*****

All conditions can lend to growth because all conditions contain lessons.  Mankind’s wish to be taught by osmosis without effort would further enhance his physical playground.  Fun and games would lead to the top of the class?  For sure.

*****

Enough times told, even the body begins to change its habits.  It matches the words the  mouth spills.

*****

Any degree of questioning leading to any degree of study lends  a higher quality to a life which beggars.

*****

We lose sight of the dream when we forget that we had dreamed it.

*****

Within is the treasure,  and without the within,  there is no without.

*****

What was not fulfilled at the time needed will be sought for in every corner except within the person himself.  And another generation to shoulder the search for ancestor’s anguish.

 

photo by John Stanley Hallissey

0

Times Such As These. . (do we not learn, ever?)

 

 

Times Such As These. . .

I lock up the room
and pocket the last remnants
of words laying about
unattended.

Fearful that pieces
of my heart may be found
scattered among them.
And why not?

Times such as these
leaves us with little salve
to heal the open wounds
which once were hearts.

For whom do we weep?
The children whose siblings
will no longer come to the table
to convey with no doubt
the events which took their innocence?

Or the parents
whose hearts were transplanted
when word came
that these unspent stars
were already breathing the rarified air
as heaven’s most blessed?

Look at us here.
Pleading that our children
will be safe as they try to understand
what we in our dotage
have not learned.
To resort to arms

means death in any country.

 

0

Love Is The Currency. . .

( I had written. . . )  I really need some one to listen to my words and consider them and tell me there is rest and love and ultimate design in all this.  That I can look at the morning and not feel it will be snatched by high noon.  That I can walk through the day, at ease with my surroundings and not feel the butterflies nesting in my gut.

I want not to feel Emerson’s under-riding bitterness trying to make good out of despair, (or is it my despair I read into it?) which borders on the arms flailing and saying, what is the use?

I want to be the one who looks and does not wonder at the immense goodness and does not feel it is a throw of the dice.  Make sense?  I want to make sense.  I want to make a whole lot of sense.  I want to rid myself of the feeling that I make no difference while I make a difference.  I want to know that my order in this particular place is of importance in a world of no order.

I want to know that my attempt at understanding is noted in a world of innocents playing with rotten toys.  I want to stop hurting.  I want, I want.  What  I want is a must be in this natural existence and what is needed to maintain equilibrium in this precise classroom.  Nature requires it.  It means I love my Earth enough to hold on to her tightly.

(This could have been written yesterday and I suppose it was since all time is simultaneous.  But I was just 52 and struggling with the injustices and insults of the world I saw centered.  It was a silent struggle as most inner journeys are when commitments and conscience are shouldered.  We don’t know it is a journey nor are we aware of options.  For some, there are no options;  life simply Is.)

I Come Bearing Gifts. . .

I come bearing gifts,
an open heart,
an open mind
and open arms.

Love is the currency
used to procure these.
Yours given unsparingly
and mine given
in gratitude

for the constancy of a similar heart.

 

(this poem was a Given at same time as the above was written.)

 

0

All Time Is Simultaneous. . holographic universes. . .

June 17, 1984 journal. entry edited only for space . . I was sitting in my chair at the dining room table reading the paper when glancing out the north windows I caught sight of Michael emerging out of his green truck.  He was drinking water out of a peanut butter jar and the setting sun shone on his curly head.

I yelled to him as I heard the gate slam and told him to wait while I put Princess in the basement.  I then went to the kitchen door and found him standing and looking at the paint job on the house.  He came in for a minute still drinking his water and I showed him the drawing  of the patio cover we wanted.

He then had a call from his daughter to come home because there was someone to see him.  He left and walked down the back yard walk.  I yelled to him that he parked his truck in front and he said his truck was in the alley in front of the garage.  And he knew where he parked his truck!  I followed him to the back gate and sure enough, his blue, blue! truck was there.  The new flat bed.

I heard the words simultaneous worlds in my head.  And knew that for every aspect of my world here there is another impinging in identity on it.  Though sometimes not up to date as with Michael’s blue truck which was only two weeks old.  But it was in his green truck I saw him pull up front and talked to him at the gate.

Later that evening family friend John stopped by.  I raced to put Princess again in the basement and went to open the front door only to find John not there.  Ten minutes later he drove up and I asked him where he had gone.  He just left home because he had been packing but according to my vision,  he had already arrived which was why I put Princess in the basement.

It was not until 2015 that I read Michael Talbot’s Holographic Universe and realized that all my life I had walked with one foot in other worlds.  Quantum theory talks of time being simultaneous. The past is still happening and the future has already happened as we race in this present to catch up to it.   It is a difficult concept for most people.  Linear measurement makes it easier to learn when things appear stable.  That they are not is the reality.  We do ourselves and the worlds at large a huge favor when we push the boundaries out to allow beggar’s room for our Spirits to expand. We are different but our intent is to do good.

It would have been a comfort in my life to have a hand to hold that understood this concept.

0

By Example We Teach. . .

All Things Are Connected. . .

No matter the outcome of any event, the process of integrating is uppermost within the chest of treasures.  It is not that all things are diverse, but that all things are connected in a way that is concealed and discernment is required for enlightenment.

Rubies are connected to stones are connected to moss if the thinker in contemplation can see that man and fish, that donkey and gods are one of kind.  You cannot see the connection unless the oneness of all of life and the concomitants of the each have an undecipherable basis and that their ultimate function depends on their being what they are and where they are.

And the what can be anything and their where can be anywhere.  This is the unalterable basis of God.  That the being of what is predisposed to the being in whom.  The lesson understood is that the basic concomitant is equality in basis and in presence.

Understood also is that the outward is but an unrefined still beautiful expression of the great godhead within.  And to exercise firm control over the criticism of the godhead no matter the dislike or the revulsion of the outward signs of human behavior.  It is by example we learn and by example we teach.

(excerpt from
The Word Is God. . . .)

Can it be said in truth
that the word be god?
It is.
For within its power to create
it moves with desperation to voice feelings,
to give breath to visions and to heal.

The word created creatures and dynasties,
wars and rebellions, held peace in abeyance
and brought us to life.

So speak softly when speaking.
Words carry the weight of the heart
with intent to topple empires
and worlds and men.
In the catalytic movement
of the word, the world’s heart beats,
years are gifted
and man’s future secured.

It is all we have.

 

Photo by
John Stanley Hallissey

 

 

0

Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes