Archive | Essays

A Resolution

Let us resolve to fall in love with our Earth.  Since many resolutions have
already died let us fall in love with our Earth and keep her alive.  Yet
how does one fall in love with Earth?   It is easy.   It is a different kind of
feeling, a oneness, a union that nothing dissolves nor divides.  It is the
steadiness,  the compliance of all things in Nature that yield to a bidding
when it is done with love.   She is not secretive.  She is an open book.

 

This love is a desire to return to a place where the heart knows its
completeness, in its wholeness with the laws of Nature.  We become one
and the same.   We are what the seeker chooses to establish when all else fails
to come to fruition.  When there is nothing that satisfies, there is always
the hope and response in the garden, in the fields and in the forests.  In its
beaches and in its waters.  It is a communion with the holiness in us and a
love which puts all else to shame unless it measures up.

 

It is a comfortable place to be.  It is what we choose in place of
relationships that wither with disillusion.   Nature does not.   She gives
from an unending Source, reaching into her carpetbag to bring forth bits
of revelation to entice, to give one reason to keep trying.   Yet when she
falters, for every grievance she dispenses, there is redress.  In time there
is an adjustment, a correction for every injury.   She is easy to love.   And
no matter the number of other worlds,  this one is worth taking care of.   No
illusions are necessary because she is sufficient unto herself.

 

In retrospect, this planet has suffered with our lack of stewardship.  So
let us fall in love with her.  Let us resolve to make her an object of our affection
and take care of her.   It is time now to assume guardianship of this place
we call home.

 

For this time it is all we have.
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A Life Worthy

Life is kind to those who treat her kindly.  But if intensity, with its power is used, then life desires to meet her match.  And uses the match for preparation to a higher glory that has little bearing on what one believes.   It is not a matter of life in a hereafter that has one floating on a bed of tranquility.   When life’s conditions are met in the physical, there will be testing periods only chosen by the person who feels the need to gather time and put it to use in a way that others would find untenable.

Who would put or pit themselves against situations that would force a do or die attitude?  Who would force themselves to grow in spite, despite all prevailing attitudes about stress and stress related illnesses, except the soul who knows a something that seems to escape the knowledge of others?

Escapes the knowledge of others.   It is an ancient thought that has propelled some to the present now with the knowledge that by stressing themselves they will prove capable of better and higher things.   And not necessarily in physical life.   There is something innate that tells them there is a something beyond physical life and when pressed, they will shrug and say who knows?    Or some such bright saying.   They will also when pressed deny it and say we work for our family, for position, for the good of some worthwhile cause.   But the truth of the matter lies in the fact that what they are saying is that they want to be qualified.   Qualified to pass a higher judgment to qualify for a position of work that will enable their transport into a world unlike the one they have known.

And the world held in mind is different than their neighbors, in that it will be of memory as they bring it to conscious mind.  These will be glimpses.  They could not elaborate if their lives depended on it and could not describe nor articulate their feelings.   It is done with the hope that what propelled them here has resulted in a life worthy of graduation to a something higher. They are in a cooperative venture with the heavens.   There is assistance for the intense desire of the pilgrim.  It is there for the asking.

Though the majority of us feel we are plowing the field with runaway horses, it is enough to find  at the end of the day, that we too have been tested.  And found worthy.
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We Are Asked

In each of us is our dream, our desire.   The striving, the process is the only thing worth the struggle.  This is why we work at it.   All else are diversions.   They are but a tangent of the premise.  Either the striving or the process finds the dream for us or we do not find it.  The goal is unimportant.  Goals can change.  In the search, the striving, we will find our  Self.   And we may find nothing but compromise with the Earth, the Heavens and our Self.  But because of the striving we then put all of us a step closer to brotherhood in the making.  And the next generation will find a depth, a richness and a spirituality just where they are and will build on what was a dream.  They will find no reason to tear down but every reason to enlarge the dream and depth of it.

It is not only the way of the world.   It is the way of the Universes for life everlasting.  To learn the rudiments, to learn the process puts the mystery back where it belongs.   Within the godhead and in the being who is part of the godhead.  The Divine spark resides in man.  Not only are we human but divine.  We are in God.   It is no longer appropriate to qualify ourselves as only human.   We are more.  We must bring the god premises down to where we are or lift ourselves up to where we think they are.  And our lives must reflect the highest and best in us.

Some are given greater glimpses, more in depth visions of greater scope.  But they are still only glimpses.   We all are given those moments when we know we are more than what we appear.   What it means is that from where we are, we are  to pursue in depth what it is we require to bring the greater vision to us and give greater meaning to who and what we are.  We then are able to reflect it in who we are and what we do.   It is no small thing we are asked to do.  

It is not only our world we must concern ourselves about but all worlds.  Those yet to see the light of day but also the mysteries of night.
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War No More

In my mind I am still in the midst of the Big War as my generation called it.   I am collecting my belongings,  gathering them closely under my long, big black coat and huddling close to vacant buildings.  The snow is dirty  with footprints and other soot beneath my feet and I long to have it disappear so I will not be so apparent in contrast.  Across my head mortar fire pierces the cold night and I stumble.  I think I am dead.  My possessions are scattered and there is no life without them.  They exemplified my personhood and now I am not even an idea.

Again, there is another skirmish, still from another time.  A speaker stands among the multitudes and is giving forth an idea to clothe man’s mortality, he says.  ‘I give to you Spirit, for without its recognition you continue to think you are nothing.’  My life is just fine I think and my catcalls and railing against him yields only to my spatting at him and running him through the village.  I followed him and made his life miserable till we both died.

I stood watching my young son in a high collared uniform one day at smokey tracks as the long train waited for the boys to board.   I stood by impotent with grief as he gazed into the face of his young love who held her upturned face with a hand firm on her straw bonnet.  The pain etched in both faces stays with me still.   Too old to battle that war, I battled others.

In triplicate sometimes.  A young man waged stop-gap measures in a series of events with eyes that held pain written before this century began to fulfill itself and thought only this life brought insurmountable problems.  Others in great numbers have incurred wounds that modern medicine with all its magic cannot even begin to heal.  And others whose mail is  addressed to places I cannot pronounce leaves no recourse but to worry about the uneasy state of affairs.   But I know war and you know war, too.

But I do not worry unduly.   There are places in my memory box which are unleashed and in dreams I am enmeshed in wars which only the history books have access to.   My age precludes my participation in the earliest skirmishes, we are taught.   But I have the details written in my genes.  I have the human interest stories etched on my heart because I was there.  And you were, too.   We have fought the enemy and continue to fight him.  He is our kin.   He is our brother.  He is us.  I am he.
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Our Sacred Source

I heard a grandchild say at a very young age, ‘when mama is happy the whole family is happy.’  I have seen when a family is in turmoil, in sickness, in argument, that nothing goes well.   It is then that the hot water tank springs a leak, the washing machine no longer washes and we are in despair.   We are all out of bread, out of milk and there is no cereal in the cupboards.  I have also seen things go right when a family is working in harmony even under adverse conditions;  even when illness and tight budgets or even no budget are taken in stride because the parent gods work to make it so.

A young friend says to me that she hates what no sun day after day does to her and is it ever going to stop raining!   We give credence to feelings like these.   One day I said to another friend, “how are you treating the world?”    “Don’t you mean how is the world treating me?”  he asks.   I assured him I meant what I asked.

It is not a far stretch to see that our Mother Earth reacts the same way.  Our Earth reacts to human trauma.   It reacts to human turmoil and human agonies.   There are those who say that earthquakes and tornadoes, hurricanes and other tragedies are parts of Nature and because we have such high tech systems, we learn of them more quickly.   But we are a planet of great numbers now and we live in each other 's  pockets.   We no longer have large expanses of lands and waters that can absorb Nature’s hiccups.   A tsunami is not a hiccup anymore when thousands of people are running for their lives while water is washing miles of shorelines and pushing new beaches where beaches never were before. When the Earth splits in two and hundreds are swallowed up in another earthquake while the other side of the world moans in pain as markets are affected, jobs and economies are torn asunder, this tells us all we are part of Nature.   We are as natural to our planet as all other species and events. Thoughts carry power as strong as Nature itself.  Thoughts and emotions weigh heavily and will have their aftermath somewhere.   We cannot separate Nature’s events from the emotions that view them.  

Nature’s events and our thoughts and emotions rise from the same bed.   Let us respect and pay homage to our Sacred Source.
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Forever Is A Long Time

Premises are the foundation upon which we construct our systems of belief.  There are those of us who come replete with boundaries signifying right and wrong and what is kosher and what is not.   Then there are those who come in with wings attached it seems.   And then there are the ones who have nothing in their carpet bags when arriving and are expected to fly by the seat of their pants.  Complaints are profuse from the ones who chafe with rules and then the ones with nothing don’t know where to look for guidance since even the ordained are not exactly clear on boundaries.

But here is the kicker.   What I have as a perceptual premise is what my understanding and experience have integrated.  What I must do is apply this principle to everyone because they may have their gods as their mentors in a belief system maybe far removed from what I hold true.  Our lives are a testimony to what we believe is our world with a system that serves us.  In a world where there is space for everything we consider to be sacred, ethical, and decent,  there can be peace and civility if we all adhere to the highest and best within each system. 

Of course there are those who would negate our freedom to live and worship.  The results we are all too familiar with.  We do what our belief systems deem the highest and best to repair and heal the ravaged wounds those beliefs incur.   What we need to do is live our truth as the example others would want to adopt.  We must think it through.  And think it through again.   And again.

Forever is a long time to keep picking up our mistakes because they bear our names.
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A Trying Thing

 

It is a trying thing we do.  We want to understand what we remember of a specific time when all we have are bits of memories and what historians say went on at the time.   But we cannot take as fact all that we read or hear.  Everything written cannot be taken as gospel.   Everything heard cannot be taken without question.  What we have in our memory bank we get in snatches and try to make as much sense out of them as we can.

 For when we try to do more than this, we are playing a guessing game.   It is also a guess when we are not certain whose memories we are jousting with.   Are they our memories of this life or perhaps other lives of ours as more of the world believes or perhaps even of distant or ancient ancestors written into our DNA?   Are we responsible for unfulfilled talents or love not returned?   Can we or should we put to rest our ancestors’ anguish?

And what about all the historians’ views of history?  How much of it is conjecture?   How much of it is piecing what bits can be garnered to fill in the spaces when the times themselves have left no record?   There is much that can be retrieved through concerted research.  But retrieved also must be the long lost habit of conversation with aging persons.  There is much that oral history will reveal that written history has neglected to mention.  

It is a hard work we do to find a putting place for memories.   But it is one way to find out who holds the candle for each of us. 

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