Archive | Observations

Mega Observations. . .

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Mega Observations. . .

Oftentimes in retrospect, we would wish we demanded someone to grow up to matters requiring some degree of maturity.  But how to do that?  When a thing is outside our frame of reference, we will fight tooth and nail to remain innocent and free of taint of anything unfamiliar.  Or what might even show us to be inadequate in some way.  Many religions tell us to flee from what arouses fear even though new ideas might even broaden or enhance what we already believe.  Even as children we would strike out aggressively at anyone disturbing our zeitgeist.  One preserves one’s innocence and evolution stagnates.  Do we know when the unfamiliar will undo us?  That we will go babbling down the street and we will be caught by the fellows in the white coats?  I think so.  I think so.  Which is why we make the woo woo circles in the air with our fingers to show we know who are the crazy ones.

Memory, I hear, is the high cost of life.

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To be human is an excuse only to one who knows where man’s God resides.

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The heart is the organ of redemption.  It heals and with love salves the wounds of the world.  The psyche of man is healed by the heart.

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A parent is a parent.  And when the child is fortunate, there are two and it is a partnership.  It does not matter who nurtures.  What does matter is that the arms know the shape of the heart in their care.  And the heart will recognize its parent.  And the one who loves him or her.

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After buying a 10 yard bolt of burlap at almost 85 years of age, I cannot say I will sit and wait for death to arrive.  I will meet him halfway to the bridge.  I will take his hand and say let us walk the way together.  And we will together, be met.

(click on the plaque.  It was a gift to me  from Last Bird Sings and a favorite.)

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However Long. . .

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However long. . . .

Coming into every family will be what a relative calls a misfit.  And the label will stick.  This often is  a child with a need to know everything and talk.  And more often than not,  there will not be anyone to listen.  Because there will be other children, work to do, buses to catch, and fake reasons given on the spur of the moment.  I don’t have time to listen will be the mantra.  And the child grows to be adult with the need still unfulfilled.  Because in the course of life, there will be work and school, meetings and planes to catch and television.  Now of course we add hand held devices.  The need continues in those born with the desire to learn and talk but like souls dwindle in number.

The sweet hours of the night are filled with the best conversations.  No matter the fatigue of the soul, the mind conversations are filled with wonder and appreciation.    I awoke with the words,  however long the night is,  and wondered perhaps I read them someplace.  Years of research never found them anywhere.  It proved to me again,  that we are not abandoned.    It will be included in a work in process called Psalms of Love. . .    

However long. . . 

However long the night is,
is however long we’ll talk.
A tongue dismembered
from its throat
is punishment too severe to be humane.

It has taken a life of silence
to filter through its members
lessons enough
for the toughest skin to break.

I have marched with your words,
through endless tasks,
through nights not filled with magic.
And heard the harangue
from compressed lips tearing even
the plea of forgiveness from Me.

Now I promise.

In the stillness of the life you know,
I will come for you.
In the light of the night,
I will make my way and
no walls will bar my entry.

I will sit the night and
across the table a hand will clasp
the one you call your own.
And in the magic of words spoken,
I will listen to the story built
to house lives of wonder.
It has taken too long.

And we, the each, will speak and listen
and as the words flow like rivers
toward the delta,
in ribbons of courage,
we will stay the night.

And however long the night is,
is however long we’ll talk.

photo by
John Holmes

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Considered Opinion. . . All Connected. . .

The Reserve

 

Considered Opinion, all Connected. . .

It is good to see the best in people but one cannot be accountable for everyone.  One cannot wish them onto a platform they are not
an example for.

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Too many children grow up knowing the failures of their parents and think their own fabric is torn.

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When living in Rome, doing as the Romans do is a task worth attending to.   In a society where civilization hinges on rules and regulations that are dismissed as nothing, means that civilization cannot survive.  It goes down the tube again.

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Some of us are born disheveled.  Born of a genetic crap shoot, being not what the current thinking society expects.  And if all our parts are in the required  places,  we should consider ourselves fortunate.  The next time we may be not quite so fortunate and we will need to cope as best we can.  It is something to keep in mind.

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Nature is rebuking us.  She is giving back as well as she has taken from us.  The message still stands that we cannot abuse this planet without being rebuked ourselves.  The numbers of dead in the weather disasters are horrendous.  When are we going to learn that we cannot keep propagating ourselves simply because it is something we know how to do?  When are we going to stop mortgaging the future of the children already here by spending lavishly the Earth’s resources as if the expiration date on these resources does not exist?  Our Earth can no longer support increasing numbers without coming apart.  Daily she screams her distress.   We need to solve our need to re-experience the lullaby feeling we remember.  Education is the key to understanding our wants and needs to discipline ourselves.  It leads to a matter of heart. . . not only ours but also our Earth, our home planet.

 

Photo by
Joe Hallissey Sr.

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Thoughts Brought To The Table. . . .

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Eternal is the hour which grants the heart time.  Sacred is the vessel which yields the cup.

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Life lived on a part time basis is for some more than enough to handle.

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There is no talent which will be left unused and no path of interest unexplored.

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There is sufficient time for all talents and then some in a world of no time and in a universe which is becoming.

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There is no time, all time and yet no time to waste.

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To manipulate time to serve the All is the true test of genius.

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To be without memory is to strip today of meaning.

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A today with no meaning already attempts an empty tomorrow.

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To build memories for oneself and one’s nearest is part of one’s commitment to life.

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It is not an empty effort to build good memories.  The memories will be called up in time not yet spoken and by generations unborn.

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When the time of divorcement is close, we ring down the final curtain and review the act.

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The heavens are also taught by example.  Keep that thought in mind.  You can be better.

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The Pain of Thought. . .

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The Pain of Thought. . .

They speak with their doctors,
their counselors and those with
backward collars
that they are anxious.

And cannot explain the panic
and the night sweats
that engulf them
even in their sleep.

They read they say
all manner of  books and articles
on positive thinking
and watch only those programs
that make them laugh
or sing their favorite songs.

They stay away from opinions
that destroy their sense
of equanimity and the
professionals wag their collective heads
and thoroughly agree.

Stay away! Don’t read the message
of those whose views would have
you stray from dogmas long
causing man’s anguish.

Don’t upset yourself, the counselors say,
just stay within the confines
of your parent gods.
They knew what was best for you.

But why then, you still ask,
when you know your life
should make a difference,

this kind of thinking makes your brain hurt?

In this day, thoughtful opinions are too much like work for most people.  Entertainment is what is preferred.  And  when school books are closed, seldom are they opened again.  Time is a commodity to be artfully balanced.  And unless we are ready to give up what has taken centuries for the human brain to be able to accommodate conflicting thoughts, we must use our time wisely or lose what abilities we have mastered.  When high school students find a paragraph difficult to retain, of course thinking will bring on brain pain.

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

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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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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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A Matter Of Faith. . . .

It is amusing to me because whether we believe it or not,  all of life is a matter of faith.  And when the century mark gets closer,  one is no more surprised than I am to recognize the ceiling in the morning bedroom.  When my dentists says we will see you in six months,  it is a matter of faith on his part that his livelihood will continue.  Or when we plan our Thanksgiving dinner or even this evening’s meal.  It is a matter of faith.

I now work on mini wall quilts.  These are less than 12 inches,  like a small framed photo.  When the 4th of July appears and disappears,  I seriously begin the holiday ventures.  When Thanksgiving dinner is put away and the children know that officially we begin the greatest excitement of the year,  and it is still too early for decorations, something needs to be put up.

This is my suggestion.  A hint of the the holiday.  I may only have one of what I show,  but if you are interested, contact me.  I move slowly now,  so my time is planned.  We can negotiate.   I am not the best photographer and as one of my readers said,  in actuality they are treasures.  You can contact me at veronica@fromanupperfloor.net.  I do take checks.

20160523_154249Until I am able to find more of this material,  there is but one of this.

20160508_114539I can never duplicate hand work,  but this I can simulate.

20160513_100402The words will be the same,  the trees will be of different holiday fabric.

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