Archive | Earth

With These Hands. . . love. . . gratitude. . .

 

To Use These Hands. . . . from another time. . .

As dawn breaks, my fingers of both hands curl about each other and I marvel at their slimness, their ability to elicit the feel of themselves, each digit wrapped around the other.

And I think that nothing, no other world will ever make me feel such blessedness as my hands’ ability to do so many things over the course of this life.   To kneading bread, to winding the yarn, to smoothing the brow of my very sick child and have him tell me later that it helped him sleep. Everything I touch holds a lesson for me.

The square inch of soil I spooned with young hands yielded secrets kept from generations. The eyes of a child as my hands embrace young shoulders tells me what went into their ancient heritage. And I grasp their hands in mine and convey my love by touch.

I would use these hands to mold and make and set trends never before thought. I see the beauty of the great god in the blending of these human genes and see the  perfect Adam and perfect Eve emerging and see the virtue in the making and the doing of the homely tasks that will start the holy process once again.

And I will open my arms and spread my hands to grasp the youngest by my hip and be grateful for hands that show how very much I love on this planet called Earth

My input to date. . .July 13, 2022. . . .I was unprepared for what these last years would bring.  There was no hint of not being able to do with my hands what I loved doing.  But the accumulation of physical work which was a palliative for the emotional turmoil brought on by many variables, has given me too much time with regretful, ‘I should not have allowed’  whatever dotage has brought me.

Even the simple task of grasping a spoon or scissors, grits the teeth, coupled with a half dozen other auto immune deficiencies science has uncovered.  It is not easy to allow Nature its qualities to cease and heal.  She shouts in my house, enough already!  Time to let go and be. 

My head has not gotten the message.  It still is in gear.  We will continue to argue but we both know she has the heavier clout.

But who was the teacher who said, ‘do and you will be shown how’?  I did and do and now I am reminded not to forget my bread recipe when I arrive.

 

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Time To Bend At The Knee . . . earth day comes.

It is long past time that we take cognizance of what it is we have done to our Earth planet.   She is still here for us to love and care for.   She is still here for us to give us breath, polluted it may be in some areas, but where we are, hopefully it is clean air.   She gives us water abundantly.   She allows us to live as human beings amidst the best that our livelihood has to offer.   She loves us with a passion.  

But what we have done to her is abominable.  We take advantage of our resources and give nothing back.   A few steps to the recycle bin oftentimes is too far to walk.  But she keeps on loving with no discretion.

Yet we are asked once a year to honor her.   Hopefully this once a year will be enough to embarrass us, make us feel guilty that we change our ways and give honor to her who has been our grounding, our bed of rest and the best classroom in the universe.  

How else to honor this lady, this mother, this teacher?   We must find new ways if we are to preserve our way of life; to continue in this classroom where to have an idea is to make it manifest only as long as it takes us to collect the material.  

There is no other place as conducive to easy learning as this classroom is.   No other place that accommodates us to the degree that our Earth Mother does.   We will chance it every time we decide that the next time we will do better.   The next time there may not be this green Earth.

We are in a crucial junction.   We are where we are because we have neglected our stewardship to care for this place we inherited.   What to do?   How much do we treasure the early morning with the dawn rising clearly and with punctuality?   How much do we treasure our love of our evenings when the sky darkens and the moon sources our light?  As we reach for our Other and hope that what we wish for ourselves is also wished for Others.  

How much do we treasure our rainfalls?  When foods that have risen in price so that the quart of milk a day for the young is too steep a price for good health?   We treasure our way of life.   We treasure what is ours and we hope that our grandchildren’s children will be able to be inspired by the same sun and moon and richness of this green planet.  

We must begin, each again and again.   Our environmentalists have told us time and again what we must do.   We cannot wrap ourselves around the idea that this Earth cannot sustain life as we know it.   If we feel the upsets simply when the weather does not suit us,  let us be aware that Nature too reviles our habits when we do not honor her.  

It is long past the time to change our habits.    The bill is overdue.

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(Being a clipper of Detroit Free Press when living in Michigan, two things discovered and cherished. . .from Bob Talbert’s years past speaking of Monsignor Francis X, former professor and rector of Sacred Heart Seminary.

’Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words, they become actions. Watch your actions, they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character.  Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.’

And reading conflicting texts of a now questionable elected Republican on the January 6th insurrection, asking his henchmen ‘tell me what to say now’  I ask do you not ever think for yourself?

And a clip from  Neil Chethik’s column when asking his 2 year old for a blessing on their newly planted garden . . . instinctively he put his palm on mine and uttered the only prayer he knows. . . ‘for life and love and all things good, we offer up our thanks.’

We can remember that prayer for we are inclined to thank SOMEONE for the good fortune that we still breathe.  For starters, God or Gods or Yahweh or Father or Christ or parent-gods of all.  Or simply LIFE with capitals and benign Ethics. 

As my favorite poet writes, ‘the heart translates and makes it all human.’  Amen and Amen. 

 

photo  by
Lori Hallissey

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My Eternal Love. . . . .my earth. . .

Love Letter To My Planet Earth  . . . . 

My love affair started when I was eight and laid upon the green grass and willed the clouds into playmates for my thoughts.  I wished I told my sky that I wished to be wise.  I am not sure I knew what wise meant other than just plain smart.

But then I grew and being part of a large family,  I learned to work.  But I think I learned that when I was born.  I loved my brothers and said when I was just five that I would marry them and take care of them and even promised to polish their saddle shoes for a dime.  I weeded around the roses my mother rooted in the ground and covered with tipped mason jars for little greenhouses and tried to keep the chickens in the back yard.  I kept the junks separated from the garbage and loved the climbing roses papa planted in the alley behind the garage so that the garbage men had a bright spot as they picked up garbage.

And when we left the city to breathe clean air I marveled as a young girl going to the outdoor privy and stopped at the back door before going up to bed and dipped my heart to blend the night sky to drink of a million stars and wondered how rich could a 12 year old be with the night so private housing so many brothers?  And the air circled my pajama legs and I gave thanks to the clean air and promised to be a caretaker of a place I loved.  I would dip into my bucket of stars and reach for a nugget and it would translate my efforts and keep me fed.

I would teach everyone to take care of our land because it is our house and we live here.    It gives us what we need to live and heals us when we ail and loves us as its children.  It is our Mother and we must help her.  And now after a lifetime,  I am hampered by bones forgetting to bend, muscles forgetting to stretch and a heart that cannot forget how I have loved this parcel of a universe so generous with this gift.

(and her words stay the way with me  yet. . . )

 Offer me this, the Earth Mother says
that you will raise your arms
only to surround another in love.
Promise me this, again she says,

that the swords will be laid
at the foot of the evergreens now
and a boot will never crush
an Other’s right to live. 

 And I will forever cherish your children.

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How Much Better. . . if we listen. . .

Some readers have difficulty with my saying I scribe yet writers have forever said they write in the flow or with their muses or simply nodding wisely and saying nothing.  I say I know when the writing is mine and saying I scribed means I hear in silence and from where it comes is where I reach. 

I have long thought that when asking a question the answer already is known by the time the question is asked.  Somewhere lodged in our cranium is the answer to have puzzled the pieces of the question to be asked.  That said,  my mentor, the Nazarene, said  to us all, hearing you will not hear and seeing you will not see.  Meaning we see and hear only what we focus on.  

But if you knock the door will open.  The Comforter will tell you things you did not know and bring to mind what you have forgotten.  (except in this day of loud noises,  one must kick the door because a knock will not be heard)

Possibly it presents  questions unthinkable in two parts.  Do people ever think of themselves as the only intelligence in this  universe considering its miseries and what of its future  or if not the only intelligence and superior somebodies are at the ready to enter in surprise?  Both immobilizing. 

And if we are more than what we appear because of many lives and lifetimes and the answers are within us and beget wisdom, do we then entertain angels unaware for sure as my Mentor said?  Or do we take on  face value the childish utterances that bring on gasps and wonder from where do they come with such nonsense?  Did we not learn in kindergarten to say please and thank you and be kind ?

I bend at the knees easily.  I scribed the following . . . 

How Much Better It Would Be. . 

for  this noble planet
if we cherished her like a lover?

Or loved her as a mother
who adored her child and
wiped the tears away with a soft linen?
Or as a father
whose arms surround the child
are as steel beams supporting 
the frame of the tallest building?

Who would not want these for himself
if he could articulate what would heal
the dichotomy within?

Too few of us around
who love our home so fiercely,
we would protect her vital organs.
The sun sometimes is hidden from man
and the moon embarrassed to see
its  light dimmed with shame.

When patches of earth split 
from the shock of no rain and dust rises and rolls
across the open land, we wish then
not to shake dust from our boots but to greet
a sunrise in splendor.

Offer me this, the Earth Mother says,
that you will raise your arms only to surround
an Other in love.  Promise me this, again she says,
that the swords will be laid
at the foot of the evergreens now and 
a boot will never crush an Other’s right to live.

And I will forever cherish your children.

 

I scribed this poem August 6, 2013
art block quilted by veronica

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Everlasting Life. . we are already in Eternity. . . .

Life Everlasting. . . we are already in Eternity. . . .

 I scribed you cannot list the world’s disorders without revealing yours in duplicate.  If one cannot relate to the ills surrounding, can we expect something to be done with what is not seen?  Is life to be lived for others or for self gratification?  Is one’s pursuit for happiness the meaning of it all?

When your mind travels to strange places and then you’re dumped unceremoniously amidst daily deposits of crud, how to make peace with it all?   I found my experiences unsettling in  kind words, but requiring years of shoe leather to gain a semblance of calm. 

I truly had miles to walk before I sleep as my winter’s poet said.  I made many oceans.

 

I scribed February 19, 1989. . . .edited for space only. . .

When you have tramped the world and know other worlds deserve consideration, you have already opened yourself to what a universe of good can bring about.

We are an experiment in time with our fledgling democracy when other countries have prided themselves on their longstanding existence and smugly reminding us of it.   Noting  our now struggle  to re-establish prior goals and regain footing, we take pride in our immigrant status as preparation for universal life.

When one assumes a good, an attainment one recognizes just beyond reach, is where the challenge is, where the purpose is.  To make manifest that good in whatever existence one is, then that purpose is one’s own purpose to continue to the betterment of universal life.  Everyone prospers, everyone benefits.  We hold onto the bigger picture.

Religions  have tried through centuries to show that ‘as above, so below.’  We are the reenactment of other world  trials and when we succeed, universal and cosmic life succeeds.  Life in every dimension is enhanced.  When we vet  each other by critical standards we adhere to in our most public and private encounters,  we then adjudge with compassion.  Science finds new planets circling to show life in forms not known yet to common thought.

We then as children are colorblind and compassionate in character, to see the absolute efforts engaged by others to then be ourselves judged.  The God Within or our uncommon Spirit  employed by us, will demand an honesty not to be compromised.

As a country we strive to see not color nor handicaps, not differences in appearance but a steadfast gaze in eyes striving to connect, to see not mishaps in appendages, in lacks of the common attributes,  but in arms and hands reaching out to us.  

Everything striving to accommodate the newly portioned lives while trying hard to hold onto what cultures give for stability.  We know we are a motley crew of stewards in a new land looking to being a friend in a place once designed to welcome us.

Maturity with empathy and compassion are required to relate instead of how to confront.  What greater good is there?  We then contribute to the Allness of the Father,  the Allness of Life, the life sustaining Spirit giving life,  (however we chance to call it) so all may live and grow and prosper.

In the most selfish sense we do the best  we can to make it easier on ourselves.  Because life is everlasting and we the God participants partake in it over and over and over again.  That is what evolution is all about.  And one day we find ourselves not on the outside looking in but finally on the inside, home.

One has to learn to walk in all shoes to know how heavy the burden.  We are already in Eternity.

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The Best Learning Place. . . Our Earth. . .

 

A great day at the Park. . . .

 It was another difficult day with health issues and no energy to cope.  And then this ray of sunshine was on my computer. 

Her grandfather saying this little engineer put the frame for the folding camp chair (with many shock corded legs) together, all by herself after seeing it done only once two days before!

 I thought again of the biology teacher saying that there is more of the grandparents in the grandchild than either the mother or the father, whether a human being or a fruitfly.  And I wonder how much of the great grandmother with the Jenny genes in that Emma E.?

 I thought of the many years I had done designated domestic male work from painting the basement floor (with moving the appliances and tool benches) to yard work with wheelbarrows filled with loam.  My young neighbor commented that I moved trees around like lawn furniture. 

But I had older brothers I watched through the years and learned from our mother that when you see it to do, you do it because you will not pass this way again with this chance. 

She knew something innately that we all caught onto.  This chance is ours only and when we see something to do that improves life, we must do it.  It was a sin not to and that was what we were taught.

Yes, there are those who know what buttons to push.  You are having such a good time doing, you hear, I did not want to take away your fun!  So they avoid the sweat work.  Or the best one yet. . all it takes is a little touching up and no time at all. . I don’t need it til’ tonight. . whatever it is. . .

It does require time but so does everything and everybody. Immediately! they insist. . . The ongoing life requires my talents and Emma E.’s talent to watch and do. 

My philosophy tells me do and you will be shown how.  Not perfectly but commensurate with time given and practice.  Soon it will be commendable.

My world needs me and it is personal.  I have proved that I have not just sailed through but took it personally.  The Jenny genes may not be valued in this world  but are in some world, still unnamed.

This best classroom ever is meant to be this best classroom ever to learn to make life better.  It continues for me and is for Emma E. 

 It humbly reaffirms the premise that intelligence undergirds the ALL.  Its potential is unknown and unknown is our potential also.

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Dr. Jonas Salk. . Conscious Evolution. . .

Having been an avid newspaper addict, and leaning to clutter, I tackled a box of clippings yellow with age because then there was no money to buy books.  The local libraries knew the boys and this mother well.

So I read for the past week brittle clips mostly from early 80’s.  I placed aside an article from Parade Magazine November 10, 1984 written by Arianna Stassinopoulos about Jonas Salk, celebrated for the polio vaccine.

Haunting me she writes of his premise of conscious evolution.   Paraphrasing and editing .  ‘her and him . . .he sees a major shift in human evolution from struggling to survive to live,  to choosing to evolve.  In fact to survive, we must evolve and it requires a new thinking, behavior, ethic and new morality.

Mankind then survives, and not only the fittest’.

Going on this magnificent treatise says to physically survive we act in fear.  The fear need not be actual, but we behave as if we lose place, things, relationships, position. To switch behavior to conscious evolution is not easy.   

I have never heard anyone speak of conscious evolution but it must have rooted deeply for me.  I have observed often gaps in behaviors.

Seeing the inequities of life and those in power profiting and our surfacing sense of unease being party to the reasons, we simply cannot survive in this emotional sewer.  Our shame is not what we can live without suicide.    

In being honest with ourselves, we have listened too often to those who told us not to rock the boat.  And watched beloveds drown.

The fatigue in monitoring one’s conscious behavior is total.  One has to learn everything anew.  Courage to stand one more time when one falls is success. 

Like Yoda we don’t only try but do, to overcome fear, anxiety, hatred, revenge, rejection, dismissal, and gender differences, but each time is a major step in potential of all beings everywhere.

Our change of address when we leave Earth will make our admittance easier to where we have earned the right to go.  I kid you not.  If we have to repeat or take remedial instruction, word is no longer pleasant.

Dr. Salk adds this injunction and sufficient it is for the wise. . .’Conscious Evolution  is like an infection with more and more people becoming carriers, whether among human beings or fruit flies, and it might as well that evolutionary changes spreads quickly through an inbuilt mechanism, as if someone called a town meeting or the 7 o’clock news.’ 

Take heed.  Over 35 years ago the language was and is still common for today’s pandemic, Covid -19  that has killed over 170,000 of us.  Dr. Salk talked of saving mankind by becoming better human beings.  Being good is work but highly addictive.  One ends  up having fun and it is contagious as Dr. Salk says.  We all then enhance life in all forms and that chance we all wish for.

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No Space To Grow Bread. . . .

 

No Space To Grow Bread. . .

They are young, you say,
with hormones raging in bodies,
having no desire for libraries and
no entry monies for museums . . .  

In these places, soldiers in perilous times
were forever sowing seeds of freedom,
with farmers tilling soil of rocks and clay
to feed the freedom seekers. . .
and artists seeking to feed Man’s Spirit. . .

Not concerned these young, I say,
while making brothers and sisters
like themselves, for they
are not yet ready for parenting.

Bedroom gymnastics are played
and little discipline practiced
in the games of musical beds
with its consequences.    

We have seen when burgeoning fantasies
take their energies and hormones,
to crash with anger humankind’s masterpieces,
to appease an appetite out of control.

The children of hunger
with bloated stomachs starve to death.
Young girls are ravaged, young boys savaged
while in the lives of their elders,  
there is no hope of place to rest Spirit.

My Earth is in peril and its classroom in jeopardy.
No room for Earth is splitting its seams.
In good conscience, we cannot go forth and multiply.

There is no place and space to grow bread.

 

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Long Past The Time. . .earth in hostage. . .

(I scribed this on February 24, 2018 and it was posted on that day.   Sadly it bears repeating .)

 

There are times that call men to action and this is one of them.  It is time that certain ideas give way to the new ideas but ones that have been incubating for a long time within the hearts and minds of those given to thought. 

We are long delayed in giving space to different kinds of consciousness.  Long delayed in giving space to those whose minds and physical brains have doors open to places the average person does not. 

The still mind is a comfort zone for most.  The comfort being in the place where the meals are hot and the days fall into a pattern that give little leeway for the eventful to happen unless taken into hands of those of ill intent.

Long past the time now we have gone expecting man to become zealous in his attitude to bring peace and  growth to the human beings of which we are a part.  The human is not only physical but is divine.  The  human had his beginning with the stars and is intent on claiming this innate knowledge. 

With every event that comes to life in the human sphere seems to bring calamity in large doses.  Wars are taken as common within the boundaries of the race that prolongs the anguish of ancients.  And little reason lies behind the events except giving action to desires that look to give meaning to the life that has little in it.

Long has man looked for reason to add adventure to his day.  And leaving the children and spouses behind to do so in the names of work or patriotism or to hunt seemed reason enough.  We take to task these reasons.  We take to task the lazy minds that look for physical adventure and not the considerate thoughtful work to give meaning.  Why the need to be entertained than for minds that look for answers to give meaning to the purpose of life?

Long has man preferred to fight wars over boundaries instead of looking to what unites the human race.  Instead of looking to what unites the spirit in manner to bind one to another.  Is it so boring for  man to look to what will prolong and give impetus to the progression of humankind?  Is there so little love between man that there is no common ground?   

From a cosmic view, other worlds must look to see what they can invest in the dailyness to spur man on to promote this planet to growth and progress.  We look to see where we can inject some adrenalin to make the intensity work with fervor.

It is time long gone that the one god, the one world, the one man, the one consciousness be held onto with such religious fervor.  It is time to expand the thinking to include the divine within each human giving access to the spiritual energy and psychic fulfilment which permeates and upholds the universe and universes.  It makes for accountability of the each in his life with the knowledge that names are attached to actions which will demand restitution. 

For too long man has reclined in his comforts with the god he created who will forgive and forget all his transgressions.  That with forgiveness because his beginning was less than ideal and the burden was a heavy one to carry that he would be forgiven whatever transgressions he committed.  The news now is that names are attached to these errors in judgments and these errors must be accounted for. 

Misdemeanors are different than sins.  Sins are different than psychological impairments.  And impairments of judgments are still not dismissed but lessons must be learned so that progression in human lives will not be held in abeyance but will have its time for full potential.

Babies being born are wondering why they are in kindergarten when they have knowledge of worlds in attendance to the great god of wonder that is the rolling thunder of the universe.  Why they are not part of the movement that rules other worlds with motion and movement toward great progress.  But are lost in the illusion of slow motion that seem to immerse the adults in such pleasures.  They come to us as twigs already bent with a history ready to teach and we step on their heads.

We are in the midst of worlds looking at this planet and wondering the outcome of its wondrous elements.  It should have been held as graduation for souls becoming stars again.  Instead it is held as the playground of souls who have learned the sophistication of its accoutrements and given them a place to play forever. 

Time is now that  changes will be evident.  Time is now that much will be demanded.  And the young whose memories now of the violence that has taken their friends and innocence will demand restitution and behavior that comes with adulthood.

The children shall lead us.  And force the children in adult bodies to grow up and let loose  the behaviors that have kept this beautiful planet hostage.  It is time and the children shall lead because they have memory.  Of the worlds they have come from and where they exhibited behavior that showed accountability. 

It is time for all of us to grow up.

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Hunger For What Is Remembered. . . .

I write only of worlds I know.  Of little, gentle fishes called Nords and Kerns and of Teachers.  Did I create them or discover them in place?  They shimmer for me.  They are not just one world.  There are also places of poverty that touch the living heart and strum it with songs of despair which are heard day and night.  Barren places and places also speaking of Mind.  These I write of and scribe.

In the light of daily observation about what goes on in our country,  what must be kept in mind is the progress we make, the potential of individuals and what is voiced as  thought processes.  In the long torturous road to maturity, we look to see what was exhibited in process.

In our leaders, has the genetic line been enhanced with education, perseverance and viewed with no embarrassment because intelligence has been acquired?  One can then guardedly assume stability and maturity within the individual.

We must look upon those wishing election and reelection, at their ancestors and family and be kind in judgment.  In this day when good minds and strong character must be exhibited before important decisions can be made concerning affairs of the world’s countries and therefore the body of man, more care should be given to lineage and character of the person.

And weighed carefully against spirit and dedication of the individual and what has been accomplished in their life.  Personal characteristics as manner and art in coping with the exigencies of life must be accounted for.

The day when credentials consist only of the work accumulated with PR is gone.  You cannot be a better anything than you are a person.  No matter the job.   One whose life is publicly intentioned will hold his personal life above scrutiny.   They will hold themselves responsible and accountable as well.

These days of wholesale keyhole peeping will unveil all manner of decadence.  It is no longer an okay thing to blatantly be crude, an embarrassment not only to the parents of children but also to brothers who have sisters.  The young will demand better behavior.  To the answer ‘everybody does it’ the comment will no longer be hesitant, ‘well, I don’t!’   And the behavior will be unblemished.

In the beginning we were an experiment in the borning of a country settled unethically and dismissive of native pilgrims. Our tortuous route to democracy is constantly questioned and must be compassionately worked at.

Sophistication has catapulted and public education has sent persons unqualified and unbalanced to high offices. But the right to life continues its cost and purpose. We must study and work to make balanced decisions.

The times now demand the best of who we are.    Some think it is a hellhole and yet others know our best will lift us again for those who hunger for the good of what is remembered.

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

(for those who understand how things change and remain the same. . . .this post was mostly scribed from  journal entries of August 12&21, 1987 edited for space)

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