Archive | July, 2016

In Prayerful Consideration. . .

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Everything teaches . . .

and not being one to allow opportunity to be lost,  I caught the moment and brought forth something long on my heart.  Even as a child I gave my mother dyspepsia  because of my questions.  The God of my mother was so busy watching this 8 year old to keep me out of trouble which she was certain I would cause,  that he let Europe fall on its knees.  She had no answer to that.  I was often reminded  that men were paid big dollars and THEY could not  find answers to the questions plaguing the questing adult.  So who was I to think???  But my head was open from the day of my birth and has given me reason to keep breathing.   I share my latest observation with you. . . .give it some thought.

 

In Prayerful Consideration. . .

The younger with his new skill
carved our grilled entree
as my words struck him. .

‘Bless this food
to my use,’ I said,
‘and I to Thy service.’

His head whipped upright
as his eyes found mine
in soulful recognition
of what we once were.

And I needed time
to explain my thought.
Not a Grandfather God,
I wanted to say, but pure Essence,
searching for Itself.

As I search my God Within
who searches the Great God Essence,
we have a responsibility
as we round out our talents to serve
our commitments and humanity
which are one and the same.

We roamed the Ether once
when we sought to express ourselves
and we became Man whom we are. . .
Such as we are it seems,
better than we ever thought to be,
but not as good as we hoped.

So as we become
what our God Within breathes
from the Essence whose greatness
we soar into, bless this food
to my use, I say out loud
and let my prayers be my discipline

for all the days of my life.

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As The Script Was Being Written. . .

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Oftentimes as we age,  we wonder, and some of us are prone to wonder a lot, how to have done things differently.  And  considering what we knew at the time,  what situations presented,  the conclusions reached are that we did the best we could.  We gave it our best shot considering.   I understand that on the way to sainthood many options are closed.  Tell yourself that.  And remembering again as a best friend said,  introducing one small if would have changed the entire picture.  So be kind to yourself with no more ‘should haves.’  There will be those who will be happy to keep on belting long after one’s demise.  Let us not take away that last pleasure.

As The Script Was Being Written. . .

If, as you say, beloved,
that none of it is true,
that what I have built with my life
is a sieve, never to hold water,
then this I say. . .

From where comes
this courage, I ask,
to have sublimely taken on
the heavens and them to task
when my arms, as the
theater marquee shouted. . .
are too short to box with God?

Except of course, you see, I say,
it took a very long walk
to get to this place
where I see how it worked.

I stalled the process
several times
while I gained my footing
to reconcile beliefs. . .
to cut corners so that my people
could hold on
just another minute. . .

But it was what I could do,
only what I could do,
for the ascent was narrow
and steep and the rocks
bit the soles of my feet
and I found somehow
I had courage and life
was lived. . .

even as the script was being written.

Painting by Claudia Hallissey

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Soul Research. . . .

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To be told of the awaiting Divine Reward has its place, but being human a little human praise is never out of place.

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Illusions do not dress the effort.  The merit of the effort addresses and dresses the work.

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Sometimes we wander like lost sheep in search of a shepherd.  The quality of our thought will spark the shepherd’s way toward us.

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Ancient memories must be put to rest.  They must be assuaged, changed to victory and not be allowed to haunt unsuspecting generations forever.

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Philosophies are born and discarded time and again because they cannot and do not hold up.  What is held to is because the staying  power is sustained.

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In all things there is compensation.  There is something given when something is taken away or outgrown.  Not always sad but sometimes even a cause for rejoicing.

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Time is a healer, a mistifying, calculating mystery that can pay untold dividends.  It is money in the bank.

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It is hard to move encrusted thinking.  But the boundaries of thought must be enlarged or man’s progress stagnates.

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Events are for growth.  They are not a comfort station.  Happiness is not a constant affair.

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Go for broke, but do not dismantle what you do not intend to stay around and rebuild.

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Eternity is a long time, sweetheart, to mortgage a life.  A long time.

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If we would see thought as constant prayer, would we elevate our thinking?

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Within the pain is the lesson.  Learn it well and learn it forever.  It makes eternity much easier.

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By Whose Authority. . .

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By Whose Authority. . . .

Your house is too small,
he said and now
we will expand. . .

I will not put you out
with the vultures,
but what you will know
is that I continue to love you.

And will tell you
winter comes again and
you will see the sun rise
and through the south window
you will see the stars fall
and the comet streak across the sky.

You will hear my voice
and vouch for my presence.
You will embrace the children,
love them and feed them meat
to make them iron rich.

They need a hot core in them
and you will provide it.
You will be asked
by what authority do you speak
and you will respond
by the same authority

granted to you to ask the question.

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Promises. . .

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A Chance For Love. . .

Each time is a new time,
cast in the shadow
of a rock, a cave,
or even a cove. . .

Simply set and
inspired by a rolling coast,
a sunset, a glimpse
of a new place. . .

New tidings of good cheer,
a glass of sweet wine,
robust, quaffed in slow gulps
but favored by a thirsty throat.
Ever new, ever fresh
as a new beginning.

New worlds,
hammering their impatience
with promises;
limited only by how much

we are ready to forget.

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Croesus, My Country

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Croesus, My Country

Croesus stumbled
and laid back a war torn skin
for public autopsy.

With bruises bested
by emotional welts
too deep to be visible, he wept.

In the eye of the cyclone,
the earth’s erratic heartbeat
was his heart;
the blood drenching the soil
was his blood
and the screams of the mothers
came from his throat.

From Midas he inherited
his golden touch,
spewing riches tinged with decadence;
stroking the mind of man
and lulling into complacency
the aging neophyte.

Promising to pave
the illusory streets with golden bricks,
the purchase price was extracted
ounce by sweaty ounce
from the despairing brows
of the ages’ overburdened.

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We will again bathe our Croesus
in the River Pactolus.
We will anoint his open wounded heart
with the balm of Gilead.
He will stand again
with his ancient head in the clouds
and his heart in the eye of the cyclone.
And no longer will he permit
the mothers’ screams

to tear the earth apart.

art by Claudia Hallissey

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The Example Teaches. . . no crossed signals. . .

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Quantum, sumus, scimus. . . you are what you know. . .

Sometime in my history,  someone touched my life with their example and I learned to love books.  It was in reading that I became aware that the Talmud taught that the only reason for Being was learning.  Learning became the end in itself.  Not to prove anything, but to improve life.  To answer my own eternal why.  To take the log out of my eye I could then venture to help take the splinter out of the Others’ eye.

With the continuing events of the previous weeks escaping our abilities to harness our emotions,  questions need to be asked.  If there are no questions concerning our behaviors, then events are repeated with no progress, even minutely.  And the first question must be directed toward ourselves.  Since attitudes are contagious,  our first question should be how do I contribute to what happens?

During a fearful time a young man said to me,  I know how I am supposed to think and feel and I will continue to try, but right now I am scared.  I told him with that statement, he was close to the kingdom.  Enough times told, even the self begins to change its habits, to match the words the mouth spills.  Lessons are called lessons because the word suggests that a morsel of knowledge is to be found, something not known to the individual.  If the knowledge was truly part of our fabric,  it would be a known and not something to be learned.

We ask ourselves the question,  what have we learned?  And if it is learned, if dailyness suggests that we have integrated knowledge, or integrated a once unknown,  then we have learned something.  That something.  If only the one something.  If it is in the head, learned only by rote,  and our lives do not proclaim it, then it is not knowledge, it is still an unknown.

It is by example that we teach.  Example is still the best teacher.  What do our daily actions announce about us?  Are we sending crossed signals?  Perhaps we need to take time and do some deep thinking.  To see what messages we send out as we approach an Other.   Body language speaks our intention before our words do, so what are we saying?

We must be the good example.

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The Good Night. . . .

IMG_20150126_125646_707-1The Good Night

I ask you
to take the good night and
follow your heart.
Wherever it takes you,  follow it,
for it will not lead you astray.

Cancel all thoughts
of destinations
conceived in mind.
They do not exist for you.
But follow the leanings of your heart
in flight and take the good night.

Whisper the night awake.
The stars will listen.
Murmur the moon into view
and it will light your path.
Take heed of your own awakening
from the black deep
and your heart will usher you

into worlds of your making.

(it is not a mistake to listen to our hearts.  The error is only in misunderstanding the heart’s murmurings.  The poem is from a collection in progress called The Love Psalms.)

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As I See It. . . .

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As I See It . . . .

There are no more answers anywhere except those written within the individual on his heart.  It is all there for him to discover and what he discovers will be adequate for this time.  It works to cover tracks and to discover just one more truth which will enlighten what has already been learned.  For one it will be fine.  For another, it is nothing but a way station.

Everyone has a piece of the rock.  A piece of the truth.  The justification for each life is in the person and no place else.  Not in the life of their god or their spouse or their children.  But in themselves.  There is no other place than the place of the individual heart.

To be able to ensnare all knowledge in one fell swoop would be to discourage and dismantle the psyche.  It can be done but it would undo us all.  The psychological trauma would put the psyche on the shelf forever.  For who would have the courage to attempt another  journey?

Our need determines our intent.  And the caliber of teacher we require.  To strive toward the highest and best we can be will of itself bring to our side those who also strive to do best and those who yearn to touch the highest.  The divine within is called into conference and the work begins.  The journey only begins when the present becomes unbearable and the future unthinkable.

I hold two views within me.  That the universe is benign and at the same time it is ultimately good.  Benign because the rain falls on the just and the unjust and ultimately good because if it were not,  it would long ago have self destructed.  Can one hold two opposing views and live?  I hold the two at the core of me and at 85 I still breathe.

What can be born and borne in this world?  The knowledge that all reality is a preferential viewpoint.  That all reality is a preferred judgement and yet so incredibly real and so compatible that it all works.  Painful?  Of course.  Worthwhile?  We get to know the awesome power of individual thought.   That we can make Peace on Earth an actuality and not just a hope.

photo by John Holmes

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Just a Thought in Passing. . . .

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Out of the mouths will come words and in those moments when patience is tired, those moments will speak truth.

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Un-swallowed remorse is such that no throat opens wide enough to accommodate the sorrow.

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Optimism comes easily to a body that feels good.

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In one lifetime, there is always one relationship that becomes more than was hoped for.

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This relationship stands like a beacon and throughout life it is felt and tried as the perfection of what each relationship could become.

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We had to know love at some point for it to become a measure for us.

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The greatest lessons are those that require digesting.

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It is a process of evolution that separates man, not only from the beasts, but often from his own kind.

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People try to do, but doing is what they don’t.

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Values are gifts we shoulder from one generation to another.

photo by John Holmes

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