Archive | Observations

Kindergarten. . .

To Play the Child. . .

For whatever is not made peace with, will piece the person.  It will break them into a million parts, never knowing it can be peaced, nor seeing how they contribute to it all, will leave the adult body still playing the child.

When one operates from a child’s reference point, one does not see one’s contribution to a problem.  And there is nothing within a closed memory that would make us accept responsibility if we are not equal.  It is a mess but how truly remarkable for the protection of the individual .

But how god-awful for those around.

 

 

Kindergarten. . . .

It is kindergarten
this place of play that tells us
that we are just boys
and girls and everyone
wants us to be happy.

And we vow again
like the tinker bell that
we play the girl at heart
and like the peter pan
we will not grow up.

And we are adored
to be just as we are.
Never growing up to do
those things of pain we see.
Never growing up
because to grow up means
to grow old and hurts not only bodies
but feelings we drown in.
There is no one to save us so
to grow old means we die.

We all know that song, don’t we?
There is no fun like ours
when we stay young to play
with the wind in our hair and
someone pushing the swings higher and higher.

Nothing is expected then, is there?
Everyday is a day to play.
And if we are lucky we will die
in our sleep and never have to think.

Where is the fault in that?

0

The Bread Knows. . . .

Some days. . .

are a wipe out.  Only to do what one can.  The Rabbi Teacher asked only one thing.  ‘Feed the children.’  Sometimes the simplest command is shrouded by a complex system of thought.  Think so?

The Bread Knows the Feel of my Hands. . .

I know the dust of the flower
as the bees skin the petals
and suck the juices off their spines. . .

I know the touch of your hand
on the shoulder of my tunic
as I bend to kiss
the child of our union. . .

And know, however much I know,
the feel of the heart
beating against mine and know
to whom it belongs. . .

I knead with no passion
but stir lovingly into
a loaf of wonder. . .
crisp to the knife blade
it will be as it slices. . .

It is with love
I fold the dough onto itself
and it melds selflessly
into a loaf. . .

knowing all the while
the touch of my hand
with love caters
to our natural heritage. . .

both of us part of All That Is, life itself.

0

Skimming the Ethers. . .

 

Mother to child with expanding knowledge. . . ‘I don’t care in what lifetime you were Pope but in this life you clean up your own messes.. !  Now!!!

*****

We clean our own doorstep before the children go out so that they do not step into the muck and mire we neglected to take care of.

*****

You cannot walk with your eyes on the horizon when there is so little good housekeeping in evidence.

*****

Make certain our yard is clean before we take the position of giving direction to our neighbors how to clean up theirs.

*****

There are no cavities as large as the one man digs for himself.

*****

Desirable behavior is behavior that will have no ill effect on the young who look hungrily for role models.

*****

You cannot fix much when no one has the courage or the intelligence to identify what is broken.

*****

We must teach our young that when we see good to do we must do it because this chance will be lost forever for us in these particular circumstances and who we are.  It will be our loss.

*****

And to argue what is good is to beg the question and give the recalcitrant time for argument.  They are sophisticated and well versed in their reasons.  Good requires work. Of course.

*****

Heaven is not the font of wisdom and makes many errors.  Proof is the world we inhabit.

*****

Alone till the night comes to bind us and the day delivers us to each other.

 

photo by Joe Hallissey Sr.
Monastery in Gurnee, Il.

0

Gleanings. . .

Reason will convince in its own time.  Violence never does.

*****

Reason will convince doubly with example.

******

Life is purposeful, though not entirely reasonable.  There is no more reason above man than there is where he is.

*****

 

All of Earth is a demonstration in belief systems. This is the place where diverse belief systems can coexist with freedom and life can go on within the system one chooses.  This is assuming man realizes where his freedom ends and an other’s begins.

*****

Man must come to terms with the fact that there are many systems with validity.

*****

Principles do not work by magic.  They must be understood and applied where you are and then you take them with you wherever you go.

*****

We can say that the outer reflection is what is evident to the internal house.

*****

The philosophy one chooses must be applicable where one is.  It must be understood.  Only by swimming in it does one understand the shape of the tide and the temperature of the water.

*****

The moment we say ‘who am I to know?’ we are not worth the knowledge.

0

What The World Needs. . . .

The Tender Embrace. . .

 

We all speak from memory.  Whether it is ours or not, it makes little difference.  For within us it is so that the one time speaks for all time.  And everything else is a variation on a theme.  I could not know how deep the emotion which evoked the tears.  Enough said that at one time in a history it happened and given a glimpse this photo brought forth another ocean.

The words were a Given.  From this point in time, the meaning is such that it brings hope.  For what I don’t really know but that they make a difference is one.  It is a Christmas gift to all with what the heart of Jon Katz caught with his camera.  Eloquent.

We Need Not Speak. . .

We need not speak.
Centuries ago we passed
from realms noted for words.

We now simply look
toward the Other and know
by obvious signs what the Other seeks.

It is a far cry
from the world of words where
the simple I  love you spoke
what reams of paper
could not properly say.

It was a love letter that united
planets of thought
that we searched.
I will miss these words

spoken from lips pressed
to my ear only to have
the world know
by the tender embrace                                                                                                                        

that the words were meant only for my heart.

 

2

The Sexual Revolution. . .

The Sexual Revolution . . .

With all that is coming out and many falling from grace,  I want to add some thought to what is happening.  After a lifetime of building a philosophy because I felt bereft from birth without one, I have studied on a daily basis and have come to some conclusions.  They may not sit at all with some,  but I want to add some things to consider.

Out of  experience with memory has come the fact that we are more than who we represent.  I think, as my poetry says,  that bleed through is memory.  This bleed through of people that I write about are portions of who I am,  in different areas as real as I am,  or not.  Perhaps as I have written,  they are more real,  and I, the illusion, in this particular reality we say is stable.

If all time is simultaneous, as quantum theory suggests,  and I know is, since I have walked with a foot in another world all my life, then we contribute in ways unimaginable to the  continuity of cultures that we cannot altogether understand.  My ability to use power tools when I was into woodworking, my ability to work physically hard at work that threw an able bodied man into bed,  my ability to understand the so called legacies of males, like construction,  have given many pause and questioned my female sexuality.  Not the least is my feminine desire for male appreciation.  But I do not discount my very real description as being harvest for the flies in the sun beaten sand as I walk the camel.

I see myself incarnating both as female and male in lifetimes either simultaneous or linear.  Have I been as open and transparent as I have been in this lifetime as a female when I paraded my sexuality as a male?  Did I overstep and take advantage of those when I held the power of their intent in my hands?  I wonder how much I contributed as a male in society and maybe much but denigrated to a nothing by the sorrow and hurt I caused in order to build a self esteem that was wobbly.

Only if you have wondered the source of your being and place in life can you see how vulnerable mankind is when wearing the costume of choice in a life of perhaps not choice but chance.  Has the problem been all male?  I know the diminishment of being a female.  I am 86 years old so I am not new to the gender.  I recognize the soft self esteem of many males throughout my life and coming from a lifetime of 12 males,  2 fathers, 6 brothers, a husband and 3 sons,  I think I know them quite well.  It took only me to know my gender.  In fact the psychiatrists agreed many times that I did more analyzing than patients on the couch.

So in fairness, because until the veil is ripped away and I know myself truly as who I am, I have to acknowledge that through Earth’s life, and the beginning of time, I walked and talked and set to dreaming, and took advantage trying to assuage the tearing away from my Source.  And I am sorry, but  if mushrooms and daffodils both get many chances to perfect life’s dream,  I don’t think one lifetime does it for any man or woman.  We come back time and again trying to get it right.  We make our mistakes and unless the boot is lifted from the neck of evolution, do we get to move forward.

History has shown how man has gone off to hunt, to war, to spar with the forces of nature since time immemorial.  He has kissed his wife goodbye and patted his children on the head to be good and gone off happily too many times for adventures to escape the boring drama of domesticity.  Women have known this from the beginning of time and they assessed the work left to them as they were left to parent the sons as well as the daughters.  The shot of adrenalin to the male bodies as they drove swords into one another since their beginning  was the aphrodisiac to their lives.  As civilized men they abhor these seizures and that is what they are.  And vow to do better and raise sons of civility.  But violence and wars are still on too many agendas.

We are in the midst of cultural change.  It is time and women’s lamentations have risen cosmically high enough to warrant action.  It has taken a long time since Betty Friedan shouted No, never again!

But hurt and sorrow should take us all to the classroom again.  To the classroom to heal ourselves, both men and women  and to learn how to raise sons and daughters with self respect intact.  We need to find out who first told us we were no good.  And why we believed it.  The boot has been lifted from the neck of evolution.  We hope to see progress again.

3

Peace Of Mind. . . .

We persist in thinking we might make a difference because we don’t know when we might make a difference.

*****
When illusions are unmasked, coping mechanisms prove unable.

*****
Death is a triumph.  The tragedy would be had we never been.

*****
A cynic is someone on the threshold of understanding.

*****
Man’s God is a ‘controlled substance.’

*****
Man is a prime example of ‘substance abuse.’

*****
An image is a reflection of an idea.

*****
All worlds are reflections of ideas in various stages of completion.

*****
Love underwrites the hope always.  It has to be the basis for all of life.

*****
We. . . are always safe.

*****
Sometimes the body goes out of control and aches.  It is an ache with a memory.

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

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

0

Worlds I Know. . . to speak of. . .

A few weeks ago there was an evolutionary find with a faceless fish.  I knew that graphic because I have what you see beside this in an October 8. 1987 journal entry.  I knew it was somewhere in my journals but there was no way I could remember where.  Last night as I was note taking I came across this.  In my night treks I have entries that depict worlds I encounter.  I will share them when I come across the entries.

From this journal entry October 8, 1987. . . .I wrote. . . There were so many exquisite dreams  or consciousness of worlds so gentle.  A Nord, a Kern,  so many little gentle  fishes and  animals shaped so strangely,  but so gentle.  These creatures were moving with their babies, scurrying every which way.  Blunt heads and tails moving.

So much is given, so much to write about but who cares.  I care and that is a beginning.  Why not create a need for something that will expand the limitations structures have given us.  Something that will move the lines out that will give my grands memories of life in other dimensions.  I cannot be certain,  but knowing who I am,  only within my structures, I can suppose what they are, carrying what I am in them.

 (the following quotes are the Teacher’s response from August 12, 1987 concerning the worlds I know. . .)  we are using what you do to the fullest extent and you will be remembering more and more of where you have been.. . The worlds you inhabit are worlds most avoid because they are unfamiliar and cause discontent and frighten.  You appear where you are needed and the one looking for you appears where you are.

They are not just one world.  There are places of beauty that still the heart.  Places of poverty that touch the living heart and strum with songs of despair that cannot but help but be heard.  There are barren places, lush places and places that speak of the mind.)

 

 (when I did the journal entry on the date, I drew the fish as I remembered them in the margins.  I copied them on the board this morning best as I could.  When I saw the graphic on Television,  I knew it right away!.  I am humbled.)

1

To Break The Waves, enough it is. . . .

After having been told a zillion times that no one would want my head,  I have decided that I truly would not want anyone else’s head either.  Because then I would not see the world that I love the way I do.  I would not see the pine trickle of a branch pulling itself courageously out of the trunk of the tree amidst a  half dozen other twigs and marvel at the beauty of it.  Or hear the young grandmother puzzle at the toddler wondering why is this child so angry?  And another placid?  And see the connections in all bornings from their source already bent.  Chance, you think?  My head tells me of no coincidences.

Understandably there are some who prefer to think everything is newly chaste.  But each of us has a history and life is a gift given.  It is with hope that we uncover its gems.  And profit from its lessons.

If You Can Bear The Truth. . .

If they should ever ask you
from where comes this knowledge
and you can bear the truth,  tell them.

It was written in the stars that I saw
with inner vision,  shining exuberantly
with a vitality that bears description.
It was hung and dried by a sun that had
dried my ancestor’s tears
for a million centuries.

The lyrics have pressed my ears
in moans that I find unbearable.
Does not everyone hear the cries?
If they should ask you,
tell them this.

It is the music of celebration,
when one, even one is freed from
a lifetime of servitude to anguish
clogging the throat.
This music is heard down long lines
of generations and will be mated
in their genes.   They will glory in
their freedom and they will live forever.

So if they ask you and you can
bear the truth, tell them.

It was taught by my Spirit
spilling into my heart with no reprieve
and into my mind with no relief.
It is a lifetime of no alibis and
a coping system diffused.

My teacher has no name,
still the imprint is within my genes,
implanted within my ancestor’s memories,
resting within me.

They do not rest while I cannot.
My songs continue, if only for me.

Enough it is for me to break the waves.

 

 

Photo by John Stanley Hallissey
(click on photo to fill screen)

2

Streaming. . . .

All of humankind is in need of professional counseling, but who is going to counsel the counselors?

*****

If man is the result of the whim of the Potter,  how dependable is the Potter?

*****

Or is the lump of clay thrown out willy nilly and at the whim of the elements, molded?

 *****

Can any constructive change be considered not worthwhile and worth the effort?  When does ‘at what cost’ enter into the argument?

*****

The attempt to discern writing of the ancients is an attempt filled with trepidation.  As man and his language evolved , to trace early meaning accurately is to find a man with mind and an ancient frame of reference.

*****

When we fall down, we will get up only as fast as we are embarrassed.  Or hurt.

 *****

It is never too late to do a good thing.

*****

An accident is only an accident when we do not feel responsible.

 *****

Heaven is kind to allow us so much time as children, otherwise we would never be forgiven.

*****

As long as we have the ability to emote,  we have the passion to breathe

*****

The dismay which follows truth should not defeat us because in a quiet moment longer, the courage will be given for constructive action.

*****

Love life sufficiently and make it all sacred,  for it is.

*****

Kin have to become family before acquaintances can become friends.

 

photo by John Holmes

0

Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes