Archive | Observations

A Place Of Rest. . . .

There can be less stress and stronger heartbeats if the persons involved could call upon what it is they know to help relieve situations,  and if not situations,  then relieve themselves .

In every place,  in every nook and cranny that houses a soul,  there is a place to go.  If not physically,  then within.  To be able to turn to it, whether there is a window or a corner holding an item of interest or rest, or within where there is a place that has a familiarity surrounding,  there is a respite.

For however brief the instant,  it is always a place of rest.  And in this place there may be tears of relief,  of sorrow, of joy and a minute of gathering one’s resources to continue on where one is,  but with a visible difference.

And the difference will be an attitude or direction, or a concrete, so it would seem, act.  It is important to have this place.  It is a holy place within, inviolate.   All people have it, but do not think of it this way.  In a crowded situation it may be a bed no one is sharing at the moment; a place to recoup one’s losses.

The window overlooking a noisy street, or a patch of snow or green,  with perhaps a tree,  or even a piece of crockery,  or a basket on a shelf,  just a thing of rest to pull one together time  and time again.  It is necessary regain footing,  to focus inwardly,  to call all component parts of self together,  for a homecoming.  It is as necessary as the next breath we breathe.

And going back we learn to draw on what sustains,  what satiates the deep thirst and not what crushed our spirit.    And doing so we are equal to another run, another try at what gives life and does not take life.  We fulfill the reason for being,  our wish to make a difference.

Soft Wisdom. . .

Heretofore wisdom
had come slashing
across the mind and
in its wake, devastation.

Ravaged emotions
left one naked,
awash in body tears,
stripped clean and vulnerable.

Like a caress, soft wisdom
finally arrives
compassionate as a lover

to find the moment quiet.

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Gift of Thought. . .

Unless you can share your heart,  you cannot enter into a liaison with anyone and raise a family.

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Take love and use it and it will heal the rift which threatens to become a chasm man will never be able to cross by himself.

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To ask in thought for help presumes the presence of an Other.  It is a love affair of the greatest kind.

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Heaven aims to educate the heart which is ripe and open.

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You cannot force feed a menu when the seated are not hungry.

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The continuity of life is the only view worth harboring.  How else to explain the eternity it takes for a mushroom or daffodil to reach full potential?  One life does it for a human?

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Trash sells   but so does garbage when all that is required of the product is to chuck it into the nearest field as fertilizer.

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In our solitude we don’t have an audience of peoples; we have an audience of souls.

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You cannot fix much, can you, when no one puts a name to what is broken?

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One thing I have learned.  If it is not done here, where I am and see it to do, it is not done elsewhere.  I must do it now or there will not be this particular chance nor these favorable circumstances ever again.

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Little Mercies. . .

 

 

Little Mercies. . .

 

Dickens said. . . ‘I wear the chains I forged in life’

For better or worse we forge them link by link.  And I like to think they are good habits of ours that I call little mercies or the more common,  tender mercies.  I felt this many times.  I often started something I could not stop because people I loved depended on that little something.  Whether it was a fire in the fireplace when the grandchildren especially visited or I set the table a certain way with cloth napkins for them or when I make Christmas cards.

“I am going to live, Eleanor’,  George said after his heart attack.  ‘I am going to live and we will frame Ronnie’s card and put it on the dresser.’   And he did and he looked at it every day and had many long years.  And Marylouise said I set your cards on the mantel where they stay .  You have no idea how many times I look at the rose card and it gives me strength to go on.  And this is one of the reasons I was born, to stretch out a hand.

Most of us have no idea when we do a something that encourages an Other.  I was fortunate in that I learned and people have told me when they have been touched by something I have done.  How very important to do that little act of mercy.  I have heard a harrumph when I have labored over a something with someone standing nearby and succeeded to follow with a heavenward thank you.  Even as a child I understood that heaven seldom gets thank yous.  When was your thank you sent heavenward?  Send it now. . .

Thank You

My days are littered
with murmuring thank yous
for gifts unbidden. . .

for the stray thought
giving answers
to questions I did not ask. . .

for the beating heart
too tired even to stop
and glad that it did not. . .

for the quivering morning
poised to take flight
through a day hard pressed. . .

to a night, bidden
with unfaltering love
as a thank you. . .

for a day loved through. . . .

 

photo by
John Holmes

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Think It Through. . . .

Think It Through. . .

All thought which holds the life’s crucible for an Other’s well being is prayer.  Any conversation which holds the good of Others in its heart is prayer.

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What seems like a tragedy in the absurd and obscure is indeed a well thought out and prescribed drama. . . oftentimes.

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Bless the good day and blow the winds of fear as far from as to the ends of the Earth.  The alternative is more of the same in a place where progress is not as swift.

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Tears aside,  there is eternal life within each and for each to discover.  One cannot hand it to them already chewed.  It is theirs to do.

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Wait not for death.  Be vigilant only of life in all its forms, in its entirety.  One cannot break a will which heralds its own functioning to its own existence.

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It is enough that the articles of faith be hidden for as long as they have behind the façade of the mind grown into habitual lack.

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It is time for even the skeptical mind to be convinced that what is seen is not necessarily all there is to be seen and what is heard is all that is being said.

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You cannot know what deep is until you have fallen into a hole.

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You cannot rush in and guide the cart to avoid disaster.  Disaster brings lessons which cannot be learned any other way.  Even when the extra work falls on your shoulders.  Suck it up.

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We walk on cobwebs but we are cobwebs.  We are not certain what the final outcome will be.  What we are certain of is the process.

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Don’t lose your grip.  Heaven is tightfisted also.

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The Global House. . . running toward a truth. . . .

The Cost Of Life. . . Priceless

Some old beliefs are a security blanket that have been dragged along through centuries and already are thread bare.  The nap has been plucked off by nervous fingers tightly holding to isolation and keeping those not like us outside the circle.  Some beliefs need to be kept and cherished like family members.  Like commitment to truths and welcoming strangers because we might be entertaining angels unaware.  But always we must be open to ideas that can enlarge the frame of understanding in a world that kaleidoscopes to everything being across the street.  No longer do vast expanses of either water or land separate us.  It is time we assume to be our brothers’ keepers for we are more than our  appearance indicates.

 

 

How Not To Attach The Fabric Of The Global House. . .

They say. .

You have to keep it singular. . .
You have to keep it nuclear. . .
You have to keep it private. . . and
remembering different in any way is not good.

I tell you. . .

You have to keep out the likes
of the stable boy
who was my grandfather.
And keep out the likes of my grandmother
who could speak seven languages and
and the likes of me from being born.

For, I, in a sometime life
blazoned with the year of 1790
walked up a hill in a country called France.
As a monk in a robe of brown burlap
with a heavy cross across my shoulders
led a group of people past boarded windows
with dust flying to save human rights.
The time was the French Revolution.

We would be immigrants
vying for freedom from
a world of oppression;
seeking liberation for a chance
to breathe fresh air.
Rich with history,
making a small difference to be sure,
infected only with Earth’s virus called learning.
Our need to know life’s passions
helped to escalate human evolution.

Was this to be called a criminal act and we the criminals?

 

Sculpture by
Stanley Rybacki

 

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New Glimpses and Compensation. . .

 

Compensation. . .

There was a time when summer was upon us that I was scurrying to order wood so that it would have a full season to dry.  I was also then listening intently for the cicadas to start their mating call because I knew that the first frost was due 6 weeks from when they started singing.  It was a time of close neighbors, Dennis on one side and Don on the other,  who knew my love of winters and called me when they heard them.  And I counted carefully and reminded the summer addicts when the first frost was imminent.  It was a fun time.

I ordered the wood and stacked the logs.  I loved doing it.  I gathered the twigs on my morning walks with the dog and had a pile of kindling ready.  City living needs must be adjusted to conditions.  Kindling was at a premium.  In my ability to do,  I did not give houseroom to the thought that I might not always do this.  It is a surprise when it happens.   But life compensates in all things.  What is given to replace may seem a substitute,  but with declining physical abilities perceptual gleanings are enhanced.  Some call it wisdom.

New Glimpses. . .

There is no scent engulfing
the place where I sit
with apple wood or pine or oak,
but the fire continues to warm me,
not as hot perhaps as I remember,
but sufficient.

I put the scents,
the crackling flames
into a time frame of memories,
and take refuge in the devices
that greedily gather
the diminishing energy that old age
requires simply to keep breathing.

The others, the memories
that relished the youthful exuberance,
I remember belong to a time
when life was taken
with no thought ever ending
because it was an unknown. . .

But known now is
the passage of time
and with it new glimpses
of a world yet to be entered

and lived in with reverence.

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Back Talk. . .

 

 

Back Talk. . .

 

I say. . .

Give me time. . .

You say. . .

I already have.
How much time
do you need?

I say. . .

Just a little more.
I never had time to do
what my soul yearned to do.

You say. . .

But you did what
you saw to do. . .

And I say. . .

That took all my time. . .

You say. . .

Was it yours to do?

I say. . .

But you said if you saw it to do,
you do it because the chance
will pass you by and
it will never be done. . .
Evolution would stagnate. . .

You say. . .

There was no one else to see it.
Life says thank you.

I say. . .

My pleasure,  you are welcome.
Now a little more time for me
just to do the frivolous you think. . .

You say. . .

The frivolous would have
enhanced the necessary
and made it less of a burden. . .

I say. . .

Why didn’t you tell that to my mother? .

 

 

photo by John Holmes

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Observation Expert. . .

 

The only thing I am an expert on is being an old lady.  I am not a vet nor a dog trainer, nor a whisperer.  What I am is an expert in observing;  people as well as sentient life,  or not sentient.  I have seen God in a Rock.  So be it.  What I have observed are animals, mostly dogs because I have been dog sitting quite a lot over the years.

And what I have observed is this.  We have created a companion animal with our dogs and cats and we have to come to terms with how we are going to treat them.  I am not into sentimentalizing animals, but here is my observation.

When television came into our homes and people stopped going to the fence to talk to their neighbors or on their balconies or porches to watch life go by or talk to it,  or even answer their doors for fear someone would disrupt their evening programs,  they brought their dogs and cats to the couch to have a warm body next to them.

And their animals became their companions.  They began talking to them and giving them treats and it wasn’t long before dogs realized people food was better than what they got on the floor.  Some would even say that when the wolf was brought to the cave entrance and fed in exchange for guarding the humans in the caves, it all started then.  It was then just a technicality to when the guard wolves came inside the entrance for warmth.

Television became the entertainment and animals with the family, became companions.  Over 50 years ago I read where Seth, the channeling guide in the  Jane Roberts’ books said in passing,  that often a soul fragment to experience  a segment of physical life will take residence in a dog or cat body.  That statement gave premise to the observations over the years and I watched avidly the evolution of companion animals.  With some dogs having a vocabulary in many cases larger than a 3 or 4 year toddler,  one must come to terms with how it is we treat these sentient beings.

Of course we would not leave children in the cold to fend for themselves.  Can we now leave our animals who have evolved in terms no longer just dogs and cats to fend for themselves?  We can and do at great cost.  We have introduced them to aspects of human life and they tell us in behavior that they prefer it.  They want our presence,  are comfortable and content with us,  and respond to quick commands that have us in awe.  With a 1500 word vocabulary in some dogs can we dismiss this being as ‘it is just a dog’ when we have as humans created this companion animal?

For the past two weeks I have had 3 dogs to care for.  A lame Rottweiler,  a  Newfoundland, both residents and a Shih Tzu,  all  treasures in themselves.  The Shih Tzu is the guest and  has me in awe with his intelligence.  If he had the throat,  he would form his answers in words to me.  He simply knows what I say and I wish I knew his desires.  To say he is just a dog is to dismiss the intelligence we have nurtured in these companions over the centuries.  Intelligence requires a dignity that we simply have to make peace with in beings that are different.

Dogs don’t play games nearly as much as people for self aggrandizement.  I say that if another life is required,  I will be in an ivory tower doing research and on the ground just  raising dogs.  I would need a grounding if there is then still an earth life and conscience would tell me to make a difference,  dogs would do it.

 

photo by
Joe Hallissey Jr.

 

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I Had Earned The Right. . .

 

Events take on proportion that surprise even us who experienced the event.  Wondering why in looking back they were significant to us when to others they would be a non event.  But to us they often are a turning point,  a point of growth and in that who we are now or what we must become hinged on that turning point.  Guard those moments carefully and study them.  What happens outside of us is nowhere as important as what happens within.  Those times we are in conference with the Divine within,  the God within.

 

 

 

 

 

I Had Earned The Right. . .

I had counted the steps
from my chair in the new room
to the front door.
I forget now how many,
but once I knew them by heart. . .

Like where the floor boards creaked;
where the carpet caught my heel,
crunching my slipper.
It was all real
and impinged on my mind. . .

I could bring them up,
each detail because
I knew them intimately while I
waited for your step upon the stair
to assure me I was not alone.

It was habit that drove me until
the day it was not necessary
to count the steps,
to check the door, to listen for the step
upon the stair.

I learned one day that
we are always safe and we are not alone.
Gift given but not without footwork,
not without heart work,
not without yearning. . .

I had earned the right to sleep.

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An Alternate View. . .

 

 

An Alternate View. . .

Jesus said all ye are liars, but  a family member commented on that with  you can always catch a thief but you can never catch a liar.  Liars are slippery.  But even this is psychologically damaged goods, a coping mechanism somebody made to survive.  And somebody browbeat the person to fear so greatly that changing the story was the only way to survive.  It seems we are all damaged goods in some way.

*****

But you see that others do not stir the ashes to bring forth another fire.  We have manicured the lawns and have put out the best china for when you come . . .

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An awry system of values can disrupt a marriage.

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Go with the night and bless.  It waits in the shadows but the moon lights the way.

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Words shouted with emotion are generally denied by the individual even though they are valid.  It is almost like they have to fit before they are worn.

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From a younger view,  how would I look to someone like me?  Pause to consider your Self.

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Beliefs are such that when they are dislodged,  dislodge also the person.  Further study will enlighten and broaden the premise.

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Always look toward the dawn when the night retreats and morning rises triumphant.

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Words can lacerate the heart in many different directions.

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You have often thought if it was written,  it was meant to be understood.  Only you know now that it is the hardest thing to do.  If the frame of reference is not large enough for the topic,  then no understanding ever will come from the words even when the desire is there.  The footwork has to be done and the reference enlarged.  The boundaries of knowledge must be broadened and then the reading will have meaning.

 

 

 

Photo by
John Hallissey

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