Author Archive | Veronica Hallissey

Our Connection To All That Is. . . .

                                                                                                              We Honor Your Life

 

(Sometimes there is a need to be reminded of the good the best of Mankind does and this is one of those times.  This essay was one of the first I did for my blog and there may be new readers who missed this. In these times when we have been stressed in ways not known before,  we offer our gratitude to those who have dedicated their lives to better the greater life.  Our lives have benefited  and our gratitude extends to the families for generously sharing what was theirs.)

I received an e mail with photos of several large elephants making their way to the home of a man who had befriended them.  This person was Lawrence Anthony who spent his life caring for elephants in South Africa.  His death occurred on March 7, 2012.

Two days after he died, elephants showed up at his home led by 2 large matriarchs.  Up to 31 of them walked over 12 miles to pay homage to his family. The question was asked how did they know of the death of this friend and how did the word spread.

Growing up on The Farm I saw old farmers in the area in direct communication with their animals not only verbally but with body language.  There was a symbiotic relationship between them and they were of one heart.

This is how word spreads in the wild or anywhere when the relationship is of heart and is understood.  Our vocabulary has no word for this.

Having read where some dogs have the intelligence of a 2 or 3 year old toddler, I am in awe.  As one who has talked to animals, mostly dogs, and listens to them,  they tune me out as often as children do when they see no evidence of need.

Elephants paying homage to their friend, is not surprising.  We are all connected.  There is a common thread that unites all to all.  Most of the world believes that souls can participate in physical life by sending a fragment of their souls to inhabit life at some level.  Western culture is a small segment that does not hold this belief.

Elephants, most jungle life, dolphins, whales and others, have long been known to have language and systems of thought.  We cannot close out whole systems of life simply because we do not understand them.  Those who spend their lives in service to an assembly of creatures have learned to understand them.

Lawrence Anthony communicated at a level that went deeper than most people’s understanding of deep.  This connection to all life, to All That Is, is in everything.  I have written to say God in a Rock and beneath it also.

Earth day is upon us.  Every day has too many of us shaking our heads and saying it is a mystery when something happens when we should be framing the questions and looking for explanations to why or how.  You are worthy of answers.  Do you have courage to ask the questions?  I know it is hard work.  I know.

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Everlasting Life: caterpillar to butterfly. . . .

In this spiritual week for us so inclined, memory is mine of those who have transited from my  life.  All my beloveds come to mind, but one incident from the children’s younger days stays with me with more clarity because of my path.

I was standing at the door of the room shared by the two older boys.  The eldest was working at the desk which was a veneer door on wrought iron legs to serve both. (memory details stay)  Our David was lying on his bed and his legs walking the wall which I have seen him do many times.

He was lecturing to us of his dreams.  I wish, he said, to be a star in the sky in some future where I can shine down and give energy to whoever needs it to live.  He was about thirteen or so at the time and I stood there absorbing this idea and wondering at this child.  I see the time vividly inked on my mind.

His was a different head on his shoulders.  Coming to mind also is a psychic friend in her seventies when she and I discussed again life after death.  She wanted to be whoever she was then forever because her identity was locked into who she was.  But then I said the caterpillar would never be a butterfly.

If a mushroom and a daffodil come up blooming life after life could she be right?  Or perhaps the mushroom one day becomes the daffodil?  Like the caterpillar becomes the butterfly?  I like to think I graduate after giving what I hope is my very best to these times.

There is time and space for all thought and life is kind to grant dearest wishes.  And fairly balanced for consequences to redo our calculated and unwitting behaviors.  That, too.

Taking the Nazarene as my Mentor through this life, I have pulled everything through my heart.  Which probably explains two cardiac arrests.  It has not been a walk in the park.

But I wonder if faith had been in my carpetbag would life been easier this time and then I think of a beloved whose life with heavy burdens and her faith been more bearable with a head like mine.

The Teacher said only my head would frame the question.

A Truth. . .

I was told
that life is everlasting,
everlasting and everlasting.

And when my mind and my heart
and the fabric of who I am accepted this statement,
I found I was very tired.

I am reminded that still to come
are worlds of promise
whose substance I have only glimpsed.

I, too, remember the eagerness to taste of the apple.

 

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The Morning Will Rise Triumphant. . .

What to do when there is no one to talk to.  We often escape in old age I fear into madness that we call  Alzheimer’s or dementia, still, a madness by whatever clean name we now give it.  We once called it hardening of the arteries it seems.

Where to go and who to talk to?  Understandably there is only conjecture and science forever studies the subject.  And how often we hear of the brave ones who keep their troubles to themselves?  We think we should be one of those.

I think it goes back to our origin as children when we asked the first why.  And the exasperated and hopelessly uncurious parent said because I said so that’s why!  Then we spend an entire life with questing the eternal why.

And when it becomes too much, especially when we have a near death experience and we look for someone to talk to, there is no one around.  The religious professional admits to no answers.  The partner of a lifetime wants no part of this serious stuff and should you venture into it they call it pontificating.

And do not want to hear you say your nights and days have at their root what you pursue.  It is your eternal why for whatever reason you cannot fathom and hit the wall.   You bang your hard head and crash the ethers finally.

To end up with the millions in no man’s land with what they say is a brain malfunction but it is with relief so you don’t face the final agonizing times alert but still with no answer to the why.  You offer a heart and love and your Self with questions and it is too much of a burden for an Other to carry.

The father cannot listen because his father could not listen and the mother cannot listen because her mother was told to always be cheerful and positive and look at the bright side.  There was no advice as to how to cope with the questions as she stood helpless before children born with memories with no putting place.

So what to do. Study.  Go to the library and find the books on the metaphysical.  Go back to school.  There are counselors exploring broader histories.  Confront the memories and learn about lifetimes with different images .  Search and embrace the ancient civilizations that know there are lifetimes hidden in the crevices of who we are whose secrets can be uncovered.

We are more than what we appear to be.  Everything we have been,  the good and the not so good have created the who we are today.  And as we look upon our progeny with love that we could not have imagined,  know also that hidden within their selves may be the ones who did unsavory acts that caused grief.  Forgiveness takes on a new meaning in Holy Week.

But because of who we are today we take them into arms that have known a love so grand that we transfer that love this minute.  That love we have known may not have been in our present life but rises out of the ashes of who we have been and kept alive in memory.  And we live to show it, to have it guide us and make it work in this time.

To be called gullible, not knowing the real world and naïve to believe that love conquers all is a lot to handle.  But as the world teeters on the brink of an edge that has an abyss awaiting, and still with hope celebrates the resurrection of the Spirit within believer and unbeliever alike, we are grateful there are those who have memory and perseverance to pursue the command  to love one another.

Simple?  Never.  It is a reality we cannot dismiss because its power is unfathomable.  And the morning will rise triumphant because of the dark night.

 

photo by Jon Katz

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A Thud Against Our Heart. . . .

 

Yesterday the world united in grief as we watched the fire rage and consume a large part of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.  It was with dismay and heartbreak we saw a symbol of our civilization consumed by a utility given to Mankind to enhance life.  Yet at the same time we saw ourselves in communion with our grief.

We have lived too long lately isolated from each other and focused primarily on ourselves.  We have evolved to a world where commitment to others  is  in direct conflict with the desire for proclaimed self fulfillment.  We announce we are not caregivers and proceed either to neglect or farm out commitments.

Yet we saw our communion  as we united in our grief and we all know what we have lost.

What we do in this world of 8 billion people is show our young that commitment is primarily to oneself.  Yet we all age and our young may, to our dismay, shunt their commitments onto the shoulders of the unsuspecting in their lives.

I told my youngers with whom I live that I considered it a privilege to be able to prepare dinner and even do the clean up because in an institution I would not be let near a kitchen even to snack.  And though my dotage inhibits much energetic compliance with more activity, I still can push the vacuum to keep the dog fur at bay.  Thus stretching muscles wishing to atrophy I’m sure and forcing a heart to keep beating.

Children brought up in homes where value is placed on character, or simply on being  human, good and loving will indeed foster care on their commitments.  Can it be done in today’s world?  To rethink a value system is necessary.

I harbor the thought that there is time and world enough for all of us.  We can reclaim our innate knowledge of good in our actions.  What is done from love is readily noted.  Time now to reclaim the good in ourselves.

When the nudge in mind becomes a thud against our heart, it is the God Within urging us to listen.

Rest Well, Sailor, Rest Well. . .

So in this night when you lie still
and listen for the rain, listen for the wind,
listen for the stars moving about the sky.
Listen also for your heartbeat.
It is steady and it is sure.

It beats for all of your commitments,
both loving and lovable.
You are an important adjunct to this world
and your good you cannot estimate.

Rest well, sailor, rest well.
The seas have been rocky but now
we come to the inlet that will take us to port.
There will be nothing to bring in the ship.

She makes it on her own power.

 

photo by Joe Hallissey, Sr.

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Listen World, Listen. . . God In A Rock. . .

Listen world, Listen.  God In a Rock. . . .

(As we head into Earth day, I am approaching my 88th birthday and my world is iffy right now and if I could leave a letter to beloveds I would say this. )

There is a connection to all of our Earth.  From the sky to the ground, the mud , the parched soil, the flooding rivers, the oceans full of debris, of everything I breathe.  There is a connection.

The rain, the snow, the earthquakes and the tornadoes plus all that cannot be imagined by the mind that writes these words.  All of these are connected.

And if we think from this minute on that we are separate, that we are not connected, when all of these   malfunction and we cannot draw breath, we will know how connected we are.

It is our purpose in life to protect our surroundings with every means we can.  From the wrapper of our      candy or what we dismiss as garbage, to what we hold to be holy in hand and our mind.  Because it can go down the tube again as it has in our past when mankind looked upon life with common disdain  and treated our Earth as a compost heap.

It can be taken away.  Not by a grandfather god whom you may think sits in judgment but by our carelessness which assumes Earth to be a disposal to grind our refuse.  The world cannot absorb and decompose what is not natural to it.  It accumulates and kills all life.

It does not take care of itself.  Our lack of caring transfers to everything we touch.  Everything.  We have lost our respect for our laws and institutions which have sustained us because they were built on foundations of need , of prayer, of yearning for respect for our divine selves.  We knew of our cosmic  beginning,  as everything was and is and will continue to be.

But what we lose is everything with our disrespect for ourselves because this is what decimation of our earth amounts to.  Basically we have lost our respect for who we are and who we brought into life through our loins when we loved an other for the right reasons.

Not for anything we labeled other than the highest and best we could feel and give to an other because  we knew love.  But we denigrated even that to bedroom gymnastics with babies being brought into existence not because we loved wisely and well but by careless consequences.

We learned how to do that so well, haven’t we?  Our world now bursts its seams with souls we cannot feed, nor time to love the babies.  We scramble for space with fertile soil to grow food and house 8 billion people.

Listen, world, please listen.  We stand now to lose the classroom that the universe waits in line to enter.  It is  the best classroom where manifestation of the idea can be handled and utilized to the highest degree.  It is the place where love manifests in a human being with mind and body and soul.

It is a god participant in stature and thought and dreams.  This is the bedding that will send our least imagined, last imagined, unbelief into soaring magnificence because it is the sendoff for the Becoming of what cannot be envisioned.

How else to bring the mirror in front of our faces and say look at yourself?  It is you, us, me, that has the world in its hands.  The universe that we cannot yet comprehend cannot be put into the laboratory to say this is how it works.  Because that knowledge we don’t have, has not been conceived and will not ever be writ.

I pray you see god in a rock.  I pray you see god laying beneath the rock.  In all its forms.  In the air we breathe, the sky that covers us, the earth that upholds our frame that took eons to stand upright.  Listen world, listen.  Take care of this planet.  For many it is the only place that is real to them.  For me, it is a place to love into being the souls I have chosen who chose me as mother and grandmother and  grandmother great.

I loved these souls into Being.  They in turn have loved their worlds into Being.    Look about you.  To the morning that will not come to those you love.  To the day that will not harbor the ideas they have crafted into being.  To the night that will cover them with love so they will engage also in what will give birth to more dreams.  Would you deny them this?

They have your name attached to them.  They will carry what you have done, and not done.  Those ideas and thoughts of omission and commission.  Our Mother Earth.  Think how we refer to her.  Mother Earth.  There is not one of us who leaves her at the end of our lives without our thought always linking to who we refer to as Mother.  It is with love, either hoped for, missed or known.

Give your remaining days of caring onto her.  Do what is necessary to restore her well being.  She will take care of you and what you have loved into Being.  Do this for her and in so doing you will not have to pick up your mistakes which are costly.

Our names are attached and the mortgage is for eternity.  Yes, eternity is forever, starting now.

photo of Rock from
The Farm. . .Kathy Qualiani
Photo of Emma E.
by Merideth Hallissey

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What Keeps Us Awake. . . .

To stand straight need not be at the expense of an other’s fall.  It can be because of one’s need to reach higher than one knows.
******
Facing one’s self in one’s declining years is a task best left to those who point to the kudos on the walls.  They have something to point to and their sights rest on accomplishments.  Others wonder if they failed the mark.
******
God is a word most people stop at because the mind balks at its meager knowledge to proceed.
******
To not remember is to lock the vault only to have it burglarized.  One is then called to remember without those whose presence would  have made the memories bearable either in joy or sorrow.
******
But to put memories into a vault and to tightly lid them is to crowd the emotions into a body with sometimes a mind bending escape as a respite.
******
Justification is a personal thing.  It is what keeps us going when all about point the finger of accusation at us.
******
In the work is the beauty and once translated, the beauty is in the work.
******
All dreams are for sale.  They cost a lifetime and by then you realize it wasn’t quite what you wanted, more perhaps what was needed.
******
A cure based on someone else’s faith is a tenuous cure at best.
******
The ability to recognize what another does not want to do for himself is also the ability to know when the effort is wasted.  Wasted because to use another is the easiest way to go.
******
When one has the knowledge, one also has the obligation.

 

photo by John Holmes

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Creativity. . Look, what I made! . . .

I scribed. . . .it is a bag of wind we seem to contend with and problems never ending.  The problems stem from diverse personalities complicating and darkening what should be an enlightened situation.  What is obvious to one is dark to another.

You think the world’s state of affairs too complicated to solve.  Yet should they be solved, what then the reason to continue?   People then would simply start trouble to spark things up a bit.  Too simple an answer.

When peoples are not operating on the same level, coming from such diverse beginnings as culture, genetics, health conditions, etc, you have a coloration that confounds even the Solomons.  One swipe does not wipe out problems.  Even annihilation would not be the answer. 

For the desire to create is so strong that another place would be found for manifestation.  And the creativity that would explode would put the same situations into play. . . .

Creativity requires expression, which will take on the coloration of the individual souls, the emotional as well as all the previous adjectives.  And memory being what it is, would soon also color situations and promote problems for people working and living together. 

With creativity, lesson plans burgeon.  Problem solving nests within the problems, within the creation, within the creators.

Unless there is personal growth, there will be unrest.  Look to solve what darkens your life.  Begin where you are.  When you bring peace to yourself,  you also bring it to others.

My argument. . . one man can ruin a world and a world of prayerful men cannot save it?  (what is the lesson here?)

Creation. . .

An ear from here will touch an elbow there
and mid the deafening roar, hear the shout,
‘I am here!’   ‘I am here!’

And another world is given birth with form
strangely reminiscent of a time and place
where you held me and I, you.

Together then, a life, a birth and a new world
created by the unmistakable combustion
amidst the resounding silence of an I love you.

Sublimely exiting, noisily entering, within
the crackling cartilage of old and new forms,
new worlds are born of memory, of experience,

housed in the eternal mind.

 

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

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The World: Atlas Shrugged. . love her enough to shoulder her high. . . .

Value Systems. . .

A value system is what is honed by a lifetime or many lifetimes lived as Beings,  and not necessarily only as the human that we know.  It can reflect lifetimes of worlds not visible to the human system of values or cognizance of them.

What the value system will show is what has been driven through the heart of one to become what it is they are, who it is they are.

A value system cannot be measured by words, nor can it be described by words.  We can say  we hold this  to be of worth but the meaning to each will differ.  What it cannot convey is what the individual’s heart holds as value.

When the values of one are betrayed by someone of worth to the individual, either by words or actions,  the eyes will tell you of the hurt the wrong has done.  Here again, that hurt to be felt by another, can be understood only when it is within the frame of cognizance, of reference.

Otherwise it will be a matter with little meaning and as easily dismissed as a flick of the wrist.  Or a shrug.  Aaahhhh they will say, a nothing.  No big deal.  But a big deal it will be to the one afflicted.  It will be a devastation and it will tumble worlds that have taken lifetimes to construct.

Values are gifts we shoulder from one generation to another.  The thoughtful ones gather the cores of the worthwhile that enhances the growth of humanity.  It begins always within the four walls of where cognizance emerges.  It is a responsibility; it is a sacrament.

It is long past the time we treat it as such.

Come Into My Kitchen. . .

Come into my kitchen
by the back door.
Only dear friends are allowed to.
Others have to earn the right
by walking through the halls
to the center,  the heart of my home.
But you can come to the back door.

I will let you in.

 

Photo of Kitchen-John Holmes
Dove Photo-John Hallissey

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To See The Day. . .

From Psalms of Love is the following poem entitled  ‘To See The Day.’ The emotions and the times were painfully immobilizing.  The inner journey means different things to all those who attempt it.  I did not realize there was a name for what I was thrust into.   All I knew was that I hurt.  Heaven intervened and there is a paper trail that I leave.  Perhaps it will prove helpful to  someone.  I live to tell you that I could not have survived without the ordeal of the journey.

To See The Day. . .

I’ve traveled distances
not measured in miles
through the intensity of love and found you.

I’ve broken barriers designed for men in mind
and found the freedom imposed by chains
within me ready.  I took upon me a coat to wear
when first I chose to come with Mind.

I pulled it close for warmth.
Its protection saved me from invasion.
Little was known about the warp of weave
and how fragile the belief that kept me warm.

I was told that distances were measured in miles,
that love could be seen and cold could be felt.
I did not know the cold felt in a house of fear
was colder than the Arctic and that all the blankets
in the world could not the body keep warm
if the heart was barren.  I learned.

I did not know that for some the barriers of mind
allowed the peaceful growth of children.
To have been so wrong was proved to me
by teachers intent on my freedom.

All in me, as I in Life was a lesson I came to learn.
The hour creeps toward dawn and I hasten
the good night toward a day to be broken
with promises kept.  I never thought

I would live long enough to see the day.

 

Artwork by Claudia Hallissey
Psalms of Love on sale at Amazon

 

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The World I Worked To Build. . .

The World I Worked To Build. . .

Where hearts open to each other, where minds are keen on learning, and where love intends to see its full bloom.  Where beings are intent on growing to their fullness and work becomes a blessing.

Do I want much?

I want only what I worked and hoped for.  Where parenting is approached with a reverence bent on new life nurtured.

Where talents are perceived with a reverence granted the giver and where life is held in the crucible of love and needs are cared for when they arise and lovingly attended with appropriateness.

Is it much that I ask for?

Do I work hard because I think I am the prime mover and instigator in my life?  Are we, each and everyone?

And if it were a known, would there be chaos?  Would we be immobile because within the each is the knowledge that our god would rescue us?  Would it be knowledge or faith?

Is this why people don’t try harder?  But try they do.  Doing is what they don’t.

THE WEAVER. . .

Standing on a shrouded hill,
integrating worlds in a body, split,
is a she-man, weaving the old and the new
to warm a world gone cold.

Walking and usurping man’s ego,
split from his metamorphic mind,
she knots her splendour with magic.

Jealously guarding the expenditures,
she weaves the woolen mat in metaphysical colors,
unidentified by he who walks.

Marvelously melding with utmost utility,
she embraces the fabric, whole, with never a glance
to see the world spinning into it.

Splendid is she at her task as she gains
strength from silences filled with howling voices.
She separates them in her mind and makes more magic.

Look up, look up, we say,
at the wondrous unfolding!  Rain ponders its drops
as they fall but the woman weaves and weaves and weaves.

She will look up when it is finished.

 

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