To Sweep Clean My Father’s House. . .

I Am Not Finished. . .

When I was a girl I learned only because I hung onto my anger (as fuel for my work) that I could find the energy to continue with what was demanded and not give up. This is what keeping on with keeping on means to me.  Anger ( used also by siblings), was a way to get the work done because otherwise we would be open for more criticism.

Many people work this way and it wearies them into confusion.  Not identifying why there is hesitancy about finalizing work, they unconsciously think finishing will finish them also.  They think they will not then have anything in reserve to continue their lives and it will end for them as the project they work on.  It doesn’t of course because when we are finished, whatever the results,  we are given another bout of energy to force us into action. Another memory will arise reminding us of unfinished business and because we are conscientious, we are off and running.

I have been inclined to use my anger throughout life in this way, to build on meaning and not to dismantle life.  I have worked until exhausted but gratified to have finished the muscle work, or the creative work, or the mind work that puzzled and tired me no end.  Did I learn something?  Of course, of course.

Heaven uses us in diverse ways.  Heaven does not waste incipient lessons.  There are some bright lights (not all of course) on the other side that can see the consequences of our behaviors.  Very little goes to waste in the skein of things.  Things heaven cannot do something about are as heartbreaking for them as for us.  But as we see the summation being of use in positive ways, the heavens also are spurred into activity that is consequential.

It is an effort that is unifying at best.  When we are open to the thinking, to the thought, we can see that we are an experiment in a new world of communal living.  We are of diverse pigmentation, of different cultures, of frames of reference that involve evolution on scales unknown to isolated peoples whose rituals of living are similar.  Our country is envied by worlds as the example of universal lives in progress.  Others are stagnant in their thinking, breathing the stultifying air of diminished lives but laughing at us struggling with self imposed obstacles, to be sure.

In the obstacles, the minor as well as major ones, are the lesson plans for growth and progress.  We make them ourselves for in the larger picture, the broader reference, we race with the greater god and the divine in us toward universal concepts still to be born.   It is only one truth toward life everlasting.  Count me in on the race.  I am not finished.

(Excerpt from poem)

New World . . .

What is dealt on a scale
are heart’s yearnings
toward new understanding.

Of a universe or more,
equipped to handle
a multifaceted life
with undreamed answers
to questions giving life
to new dreams,
giving breath to new forms,

and heart to life everlasting.


artwork by Claudia Hallissey


One response to “To Sweep Clean My Father’s House. . .”

  1. Makes me think how much better off we’d all be if we could learn and love ours and others mistakes, genuinely and with heart, instead of feeling superior over others or diminished ourselves.

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