The Work Of Being More Human. . .


On being a more human being. . .

When I first decided to make a small table out of a no longer used chopping block, I  think the cosmic forces went into cardiac care.  I remembered safe practises learned from my brothers and sons, but neglected to secure the work on the table.  With care I did not sever fingers.

When I held the scroll saw in my hands, it was a different experience.  I am a carpenter was the thought.  Why I wondered did it feel so familiar and what else was skirting my nimbus?  Much I was to learn, because it was the beginning of a long and satisfying relationship.

In time, I hated to give up my woodworking, but with carpal tunnel and weak hands,  it was a worry to  contemplate accidents with power tools.

There were  mixed reactions at the dinner table with my ventures into these male games, but I kept learning much about  males and also about me.  Since education is my passion, and learning  gives me a real high, it is not something taken lightly.  It is my work every day and what I feed my mind is literally what is my soul keeper.

My learning passion covers much with intensity that pushes people away.  But I have learned to quell my enthusiasms.  It has also led me into topics which puzzle and create conflict. 

One such is the present topic of trans genders.  There is much said erroneously and much not given thought to because it would involve mind work that few would want to  start. 

Like where did the idea originate with the very young and who is responsible to teach and help them understand? And why some young and why now?  Or why never these particular  thoughts in just this way?  And  why did I begin my post with these two stories of my male ventures into power tools?  And why the feelings?

I have long talked of my writings encouraged by a grandson.  And who set up my blog.  We have had a trusted relationship for a long time and he thought time for me to say how I write and think and hear, because he could relate.

I chose the Nazarene,  the Christian God  as my mentor for various reasons.  One of them being that he said as the tree is bent so shall it grow.  To me after years of study the reason the tree is bent was that we have a history.  Meaning that we have lived before, apriori.  He taught about life everlasting though I never heard nor read how come or why. 

Because my thought and arguments have been sustaining, I come to these conclusions.  Male and female we have been and some of us more inclined to one gender than the other.

As a female this time, I have enjoyed with satisfaction the roles which have been mine.  I  also remember and have joy in using power tools and have been required to do male jobs if I wanted things  done.  

The cosmic sages consider me a trusted brother.   My children grew beneath my heart.  I am their mother first and foremost. 

 I consider all my talents contributing to a more complete human being.  Mankind’s purpose is to learn how to be a universal participant in life’s diversity. 

Understand from the beginning life has been difficult.  Different I did not know.  I was like my siblings and they were like me.  Was I treated the same as they?  For whatever reason I was in trouble though to me I sounded and talked like everyone else. 

It was in religion class that big trouble followed me.  I say to you that my head found no argument with what was in it.  Only when my world crashed in my  head with a tsunami let loose with words said lacerating my heart, that I pounded the walls and shouted ‘close up my head.’

Being a farm girl there was only work and no time for talk about different .  There was feeling of no love.  As I  grew to a larger world, learning became a way of being good and causing no strife.  My head was full of curious things and the handful of friends sought me and when our children came, they loved me.

My first psychiatrist said you realize others do not see what you see.  I said nothing and he choked out my god, you don’t.  Many of my thoughts with ikons did not  have putting places.  They were real and useful because of memories from previous worlds, therefore true. 

I still want to make better and enhance life and my commitments.  I love deeply and  not always wisely.  At almost a hundred years, I tire quickly.  My conclusions?

The journey is ours and we determine our purpose.  Life is not always kind  because of mistakes either in numbers or choices.  Some of us have not grown up but have languished in play.  We are hopeful that someone will be a good teacher and open a way home. 

We come with  open heads, open hearts and open arms and often not completely sealed.   And some of us with memories of all who we are.  Most of us do not wish to be in a circus.  Help all to be compassionate to hold life with people and creatures sacred. 

It is my prayer.

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2 responses to “The Work Of Being More Human. . .”

  1. email from Trish. . Thank you, Veronica,

    You are so right about being human requiring work. I am always amazed at how much there is yet to learn.

    I am blessed with this mind wanting to learn more as well, so it is wonderful to hear from another how important it is.

    Sending you love and blessings.

    Trish Mayfield

  2. email from Maria Wulf. . .

    First, I love your new blog Veronica. It’s simply a beautiful design and says you.
    Your writing in this piece has as much of your writing does that sense of eternity, (I think that’s the right word) or timelessness or no time at all. And how you see this world we inhabit as just one piece of something so much bigger makes sense to me.
    I wish you well and send you love, Maria

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