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Do You Hear?

IMG_20140108_134901_738 Do I have more minutes to finish?   There was no time for answers because the little one with a dash was out of sight.   In a few minutes he was back and announced,  I finish.   Having learned to wait while private things were finished,  I waited again while he proceeded to his room.

I followed him shortly to find him in pajamas and ready to crawl into the high bed.   Well, should it be a story to tell or a story to read I asked.   I am ready for you to choose.   Tell me what it is we should do to get you ready for sleep?   And I waited.  Minutes ticked away while the choice was being made.   Patiently, again,  what will it be?

His face took on a faraway look as if searching for a memory.   I recognized the look and wondered where he would go for that memory to take shape.   I knew it well.   It was a look that had been on my face many times with voices telling me to stop dreaming.   I needed to pay attention to what was at hand and not waste so much time dreaming.  So because of those reprimanding voices,   I knew to wait.

He asked if I would sing the one I singed when I singed with other voices.   He knowed that song!

What song is that?   I wondered.  There was no time for me to sing with other voices that he would have heard.   Like this, he said and in his high soprano he sang his Gllloooooooooorrrrrrriiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaand I knew.   Unbelievably I knew.   The music hung on his tongue and in his throat as if he were tasting a delicate sweet.

When did you ever hear me sing that?  I asked.   Before I came to you,  he said.   Before I came.   I heard you singed and my heart singed with you.   I knowed I could tell you some time if I just ‘membered it.    I promised I would ‘member so I could hear it again and again.  I knowed that you would ‘member if I singed it.   And you do!  he said,  you do!

And I believed him because I gave up choir when he was due to be born.   I took this child into my arms and sang the song he so wondrously remembered.   And when I came to the part he remembered his voice faithfully shadowed mine.   And another posit was added to the Memory Bank but who would believe it?   Who??????  Except the many someones  who entered their place of belief every time they bent their knees.

Those are the who. . . . . . .


We Are A Mosaic

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Sometimes our actions seem out of context.  It is as if we are dancing to a song not in the musical library.   It is not heard by anyone else,  just us.   It is not foreign to us,  but seems puzzling to everyone watching.   We know that it is still us,  just not the us that people know.

All of life and human life especially,  is likened by me to a mosaic.   Bits and pieces here and there of importance but I wonder where some of the pieces come from when they are not of this lifetime.   They have a fit though in the larger picture.   Not that it need flash before my eyes,  but more of a feeling as being part of the whole.   This Veronica has a Veronica who has a Veronica.   Ad infinitum.  My boundaries are no more since my inside has no outside.   What I try to describe is that we are more than we appear to be.   How there is a depth to us always eluding,  never definite, never static.  That if we had the ability to focus differently and some do,  we would see ourselves as a substance far greater than three dimensional.   When we put our arms around beloveds, we are embracing the human family from which we all rise.

When I heard the term ‘sense of snow’ being described as a one who looks at a footprint in the snow and tells what animal walked, how large, what way the wind was blowing, how far the animal traveled, where he had come from and many other things,   I understood it.   I immediately thought there are those also with a sense of time and a sense of destiny and those things driving one to learn sometimes by osmosis but definitely by study with a keen interest in a subject.   They make connections.   Given a word,  they take it and whip it into the present and use the premise to show how we connect.   This is an area that adds to depth.

Those who can, read the handwriting on the wall and know who wrote it because they understand the language.   They have a ‘sense of’ we say because everything they see connects with the subject.  A sense of snow.   It is a wonderful term.   It describes fully those with the ability to hear the cries in crisis and those who see themselves as part of a mosaic,  not even consciously realizing where all the pieces come from but knowing it all is part of the greater picture.  We are a mosaic,  within a mosaic,  within a mosaic, ad infinitum.   The sense of it all is vast.

The nonsense question is who am I.     The real question is who am I not?

photo  by John Holmes


Private Time

IMG_1601Can we make the snowman now,  the little one asked.   Almost time,  I said,  almost time.   Well, he said,  when will it be the right time?   And I asked him to think about it.   He was still for a minute and then asked me what I meant.

Well,  I said,  there is a right time and a not so right time about things.   Can you name some things that have a right time?   He looked at me and with a bright smile that showed gleaming teeth,  said, yes!!!   Well then,   I said,  tell me.

And he looked at me and said that it was always a right time to make cookies.   It was a right time to eat ice cream.   And it was a right time to take care of those littler than you.   And it is always a right time to put your toys away when you are ready for bed.   I agreed with all of those and I said that was good thinking.

And then I asked for examples of things that don’t have a right time.   Can you think of some and tell me what those are.   Welllll. . . .he said,  the not so right time is when you ask me to do something and I am not ready because I am not finished with what I am doing.   Intrigued,  I asked,  what can you possibly be doing that I don’t know about and especially when it is the right time?   And he looked at me with wonder,  puzzled. . . . .you don’t know?    Nooooo,  I said,  I don’t.

Well, he said, when I am doing private things and ‘specially when I am telling secrets and those are private things.

When I am talking to my friends that you don’t see.  And when do you do that,  I asked.   When I play and whisper things to them.   They whisper back but you can’t hear them.   But we have talks and they are my friends.   Who are they,  I asked.   These are good friends from before.   When,  before,  I asked.   Before I came to you,  he said.   They are my forever friends, he said.   Forever.

Hold onto them,  I said.   Hold tightly to them.   And you be their forever friend.   Tell me next time you talk so that I can wait till you are through.   I know,  he said that you have forever friends.   How do you know this,   I asked.   I see you move your lips and I know you are talking to your forever friends.   I watch-ed you, he said.   I watch-ed you.

And then I hugged this little forever friend who watch-ed me.


The House Of Many Rooms

DSC_1144On November 5th, USA TODAY had an article entitled, ‘A discovery out of this world;  Earth-like planets.’  It went on to say that the space observatory, the Kepler telescope has shown that about 8.8 billion stars in our galaxy have planets nearly the size of earth with a surface temperature that could support life.   And probably tens of billions earth like planets in our Milky Way galaxy.  This bit of news should send up flares in all our religious premises that have spoken of  ‘our Father’s house has many rooms.’  How else to say to the mental landscape at the beginning centuries’ count that there are other worlds besides this?  As it was,  this concept could only be grasped by the selected few.

Even now when tempers rage as to whether we are evolving or were hatched fully grown and believers to boot,   there is no common ground where intelligence can gather itself and say,  we are open to new knowledge.   It is a sad commentary on the work of those who have toiled hard and long to bring us to the place where we can say yes,  the divine spark is harbored in all of life.    God in a rock.   No doubt it will take some cataclysmic event to bring people to their knees and say it is time for all of us to seek knowledge from where it comes.  No need to sell our souls for a pittance.

There are some who come to earth different than the average person.   These mavericks are placed by destiny here and there to add a richness to the evolution of mankind.   They march to their own drummer and speak with words when questioned that have meaning to those who search themselves for affirmation.   Often they are thought to be behind everyone else, though when questioned possess an intelligence beyond what institutions could teach.   These are the ‘angel unawares’ that the Good Book speaks of that nobody reads but most display.

Those who speak of life elsewhere generally only envision life like ours.  Perhaps we can entertain thoughts of life in terms of other than linear measurement?   Perhaps we can think of life with illusions not manifest?   In terms of perhaps dreams dreamed and thoughts having their own reality?  Jane Roberts, in her series of Seth books in the 70’s spoke of ‘unknown realities’ where concepts of immortality can only be given meaning in terms of worlds unknown to us.    The knowledge of metaphysics adds a rich layer to physical life and we must revisit  our ancient heritage which  speaks to us of cosmic values.

It is time for Joseph Campbell’s heroes’ journey for each and everyone.   It starts with one small step inward in search of our common divinity.

Photo by John Hallissey


Where The Heart Is

photo-7-1Are you connected to your home?  Would removing you from it remove you from your memories,  to what you have learned, to what you love not because of how it looks but because of what you have invested?  A wandering brother once said that he never felt like I did and he had lived in many houses because of his work.  To be a home it must be invested with the soul of one, with the emotions and with the love.

It should take two people to build a home and a family.   But in many cases, too many of late, it is but one.   It can be one of meagre surroundings.   It can be of any type, in any country, in any place.   But with the place should be invested the emotional growth and in recollection, should be one of acceptance.   If the place is simply a house,  a place to sleep in and a place to leave, we have a rootless society, with no connection either to themselves or to their place of origin.  And their origin means the place where they became aware of themselves and respected for their persons.

When a place is created that is secure in the minds of the children, when what is created is of love, then what is given is a freedom to fly and then to come back.   Not necessarily to the physical place but to the secure emotional place within that has given them a rooting.  Those with no penchant for traveling will in time realize that rooting is taken with them and is not lost.  But for those whose hearts are secured within the place they have given their best, have taken their responsibilities to the highest and best they could envision, these attributes give to the children and the adults a confidence that world events cannot shake.   It gives them a grounding where the earth itself becomes home and a love for it that never dims.

They will forever hear in their minds and hearts the voice who greeted the morning and was servant to the day.   This is where the heart rests.   They will feel their connection to their earth no matter where their home is.   They do not spend their lives looking for a place to call home because they were rooted when it was necessary by those who loved them.   They will find wherever they are that they are at home.  The earth will never be an alien place, a foreign place.

Where the heart is will always be home.


There Is A Place

DSC_1197When I posted on this blog a letter I had written to the Professor of Theology and Philosophy in 1991, I mentioned Robert Nozick’s book called The Examined Life (published in 1989) and the possibility that we might be in the creation business as apprentices.  I recalled a conversation I had with our son David  who was a lawyer with a Philosophy major who also spoke of creating worlds which was new to me.   That took place long before David’s death in 1985.   Recently I found this poem written in 1988.


There Is A Place

There is a place and time
hanging to the east of conscience,
lolling in the fullness of space
that I watch and hunger for.
It thrives on my thought
being a world I created and rolled into Being.
It belies my judgment, proving itself real.

I’ve worked till dark and used the moon
to guide the plow through memories
meshed in tangled emotions.
I’ve cleared the land allowing new growth
to firmly root and be nurtured
by sun held too long beneath
grey clouds, heavy.

I did not know to do it
except my need to begin.   Anywhere.
And anywhere was a lot of places.
I was a good place to begin
so I began to plow,
through memories giving rise to emotions,
giving rise to pain.   Again.

To have left them buried beneath
a facade of civility was courting
volcanic eruption in babies still to be born.
I knew that but didn’t know I knew it.
I plowed till dark and through the night
and by the light of the half moon
plowed some more.
The night grew weary of me.

And now I sleep.   The babies play
and in their play create worlds again
on firm ground, growing grass without weeds,
digging foundations in loam
and not building mountains on garbage.
I’ve given them what I knew to be best
of what I am.  No need for them to fulfill
my dreams for I’ve dreamed them

and the new world waits.


February 4, 1988


Hopes and Desires

DSC_1148Those of us who have hopes, hold tightly to them.  I have found  during this life that there is insufficient time to enclose them all.  There is not enough time to focus on them as well as our commitments.  And we don’t know this up between the eyes at the time we make our first commitment.   Because we are honorable peoples, we stay the route and run out of time which takes us with it.   The commitments we go into, with part of us still wishing hopes fulfilled,  take energy into their cause.   So the girl who wished to write teaches her children and they become fine writers.   And she who created in the kitchen for her brothers teaches her children how to create with their hands, with their minds,  in the pleasure of the fields in all weather.  She teaches the glory of creation with reverence.  We learn what we can do with what we have and are richer for it.

We watch our children make commitments with their desires running alongside, to find that they must shelve portions of them we term dreams (because they are not yet physical) and tend to the needs of commitments.   And then we wish that each generation will be aware of consequences when decisions are made that prevent desire’s fulfillment.   Failure?  Giving up?   No,  just reality doing a check.  Humans must be a priority, especially when we make them.   What values would have gone into a dream are instilled instead, in commitments.  We learn early that our hearts teach us in ways the world cannot.

And the dreams of value,  either genetically impregnated or morally ensconced,will have their day either here or elsewhere.   And the dream being of noble quality demands a someone of noble quality to carry it.   If the progeny carry their commitments with honor, their dreams will be carried by a someone with honor.   Our hopes, if passed to one with memory who cherishes these, will be fulfilled.  And we will be the person of quality who dreamed the desire into being.  When we have worked the dailyness,  laid the groundwork,   done the footwork, and have ploughed the field to make it ready to work, the hope will be a reality.

All of Life is carefully balanced.

Photo by John Hallissey


The Mills Grind Slowly

Dear Dr. . . . .

I presume it is Dr. though I did not see the title,  I feel it is richly deserved.  If you would please excuse me for not offering my gratitude for your perusal and comments on my work.  Life has a way of intervening and commitments cannot wait.

The work I refer to,  just to refresh memory,  was the poetry and the essays that my friend. . . so kindly asked you to look at.   The material reviewed you said was challenging and intriguing and I thank you.  Challenging and intriguing nowadays is not the stuffs of the marketplace.  In fact,  what can be easily identified, especially the familiar, is what is marketable.  This is not to put the onus on people,  though it seems that to massage the brain into greater activity is not thought of as fun.   That is too bad.   To my thinking, the purpose of this physical life is to learn but from the observation of the majority,  its purpose is to entertain.   The gods,  I understand,  even hide the lessons in toys.

With the challenges of earning a living,  there is little energy left to try and change much of anything.  To inject new thought or old thought spoken in today’s language,  puts one on the defensive.  The old adage of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’  seems to be what is propelling everyone.  Except things are broken, old ideas, old habits and a first rate intelligence is not required to see that the results are no longer sufficient.  Ideas and values must expand to fit the larger scope, not abandoned altogether.

Physical and mental boundaries are not finite.   We often speak disparagingly of primitive religions.  Simple observation tells us that as a technological society we have lost the spirituality that once united the simpler life with the cosmos.  And we are the loser.   We speak of life everlasting and yet are afraid to die.  We speak of the resurrection and buy cemetery plots so we will be remembered.  We send crossed signals.

When I wrote the essay, Concerning:  Creation 101 I wished to bring forth several ideas to show we are Creationists.  Individually and en masse we create the climate for what happens in our world.  I came upon a book by Robert Nozick called The Examined Life.   He wrote this while on sabbatical from Harvard and in it, to my surprise,  he announces that perhaps we are in the creation business and are discovering one way it can be done.   And he brings forth the idea that we are apprentices and perhaps will be in charge of something else, anon.

This again says that mental boundaries no longer exist.   There is a Spirit afoot that will speak and to ears and hearts that are open , they will hear.   There are those whose brains are open albeit a tiny percentage more than the average and to them will be given messages transformed  into ideas that will be grounded in this world.   To those whose eyes are open,  they will interpret the writings on the walls.

I realize that my ideas are not new ones but I try to speak in the vernacular.  All life is simultaneous.   When a philosopher like Robert Nozick comes up with creation apprenticeship, someone like me, or maybe many someones also pick up the idea at the same time.  Eden was Earth,  everywhere.   According to where one stood.   Maverick thinking?  Possibly but I think not.   My scope had to broaden to contain my commitments.

Thank you for your time and effort.   I did want to explain myself further.   Whether my lifetime will bear me out, I leave to the heavens.   They still hold the sparklers, contrary to what Man thinks.  I bless,

(I came across this copy of a letter to a Professor of Theology and Philosophy of a large university who was a friend of a friend.   It was in a journal entry of 1991.  The mills of the gods grind slowly.)


On Growing Up And Growing Old

To know when one demeans one’s own value system, is to debase the Spirit within.   It is all a value system.   And a value system worth its salt will not be maligned in any manner, not even by systems beyond what one knows.  The value system of behavior based on high premises will be honored.   But the source of the system so designed must be investigated and must be researched.   You cannot adopt a belief system based on an others’  work.  It must be within the frame of reference of the individual who espouses the system.

At what point do we decide on a value system?   We can decide at any point whether we be patrons of the library  or of religious conviction.  Do we need a boundary or do we think that we are innately good and require no other to tell us when we do wrong?   It should always be a choice and understood will be the consequences.   When we decide on a value system we are pointedly within a system we have adopted and are living with it or by it.  We simply have not named it.   Is it necessary for us to name the system or are we happy simply to live it?  These kinds of questions we answer as we move from day to day.   It is the dailyness of living that prods us to abide by what we consider to be good or not.   The normal day to day living already comes with its own set of lesson plans.   The heavens note the bright thoughts that are moving within the Earth boundaries and here we are surprised when heaven’s thoughts match ours.   And it is then we shout revelation!  It is interesting as we march into our tomorrows we find that our steps lend themselves to our own adopted behavior.   We are already living our beliefs by our actions and our thinking.  And those who gravitate toward us are already responding to our belief system or our philosophy.   They say the apple does not fall far from the tree.   Here it can also be said that the friends of one’s walk in life are like us and if we find that there is a one who holds different ideas,  we are then free to either walk along or subtly dismiss the one from our circle.   What we do will be very telling about us.   Should we embrace the one whose thoughts differ we might find at first to be frightened.   If terror compounds our fright we will lose the friendship quickly but we might see, if we try to incorporate different ideas, that our boundaries move apart and our premises broaden in scope.

This is about growth.   It is about evolution and it is about being human.   Life is exciting and it is an adventure.   It is about growing up and growing old and wise and a leaning post for the young.   And it is about losing our focus on this world at the end of this life and focusing on a new one.   It is still about growth and evolution and about being other than human that our vocabulary has no words for.   But it will still be exciting and an adventure because life is sweet in any dimension.


Roses And Evergreens

Roses and Evergreen Do you wear the rose perfume?” she asked.   Yes I said and then she said that every time she caught the scent she wondered from where it comes and who walks with a bouquet of roses.  I wish it were so.   I would give you a rose.  . . . .thorns to be sure, but a rose with petals of baby skin and a scent reminding you of a place long buried in memory.

And coupled with the stringent passion of evergreen. . . both are the true measure of this woman pilgrim in journey.   The evergreen stands as a fulcrum of entry into a forest of refuge.   We belong here it says.   The rose for its scent of love and the evergreen, its passion.  Both marshaling the heart and mind unto the place I know best.

So we must paint roses in the cheeks of the newborn to remind them of the place from which they come.   And with the roses will come the scent they remember.  The evergreen will remind them also of what it is they hold as memory.   Remember the sabers were put across each other at the foot of the evergreen.   A constant reminder that peaceful skills must be honed each day and that they must be taught from the very first breath.  These memories will be sufficient to carry them to the end of their days.  They will remember and know the place that held their hearts and  that with these  they will find peace with understanding.   They need not speak of it but they will know each other by their actions and the love in their hearts.  Their hands will grasp each other and they will know then how much they were loved.


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