Archive | Touchstone

I Am Glad We Are Found. . . .

 

 

Wherever we are, it seems only meet and proper to have August cease its summer heat and prepare mentally for the oncoming North Wind.  It seems it has forgotten about us blistering in the heat.  I am glad we are found.

Though conditions prevent our entry back to the classroom in many places,  mentally we option to rekindle old friendships in favorite books.  Or fortunately in new books if we are able.  Like a stretched out old sweater I hug tight around cold shoulders the winter of long nights in a quiet corner.  

I welcome you to join me.  Today we pretend to hug each other but one day the hugs will be for real.  Promise.

August

It is August
and there is
a sliver of breath
inside the sill.

The deep breath of autumn
is, I think, a matter of time;
perhaps only in the memory
of the child anxious
for the world of new books
to open.

Anxious for the toys
of summer to be put aside
to make space
for new thoughts.

An old lady now
but still waiting with anticipation
for the long, dark nights
to be filled with time.

It is necessary.
It will take an entire season
to adjust mind, body and soul
to a new way of thinking. . . .
about who I was

and now who I am.

 

photo by  Joseph Hallissey, Sr

0

When We Handicap Our Young. . . .

They were just children with a love offering.  It glinted in the ground and when picked up it glittered as a star in the sky.  Of course it would be given to the one loved most!  And with grimy hand and full heart it was.  With words accompanying the gift,  they spilled as starbeams through fingers. 

It was met with laughter at the piece of broken bottle swept in by the now polluted waters, with the love words washed with even more laughter.  And the child ran and hid and forever found words choked in throat too tight to speak.  And chatter found its way into conversation during lifetimes of too many words, none spoken ever with truth. 

Devices soon replaced the human voice in pillow talk and words were shouted in derision, in hostility,  in raucous laughter but seldom in measured voice which would take counsel with the sages.  Humans soon counted on one syllable words,  incomplete thoughts and reverted to gestures when language which had taken thousands of centuries to master came to a halt.  Even though in the beginning we were told that the  word is god. . . . we took away the child’s most important tool for growth and smashed it with our jealousy at his innocence as ours had been smashed.   And evolution stagnates.

once again we will dance,
through the night sky
and gather moonbeams
for our baskets. . . .

we will strew them
onto the paths of the children
who will pick them up and throw them
with joy to the night sky.

they will be stars again
to be gathered by a one
who recognizes stars
as beams of light. . . . .

0

Given. . . With A Promise. . .

 

With a Promise. . .

 

With the ongoing grief affecting so many in our nation,  this was a gift given and I share with you.  Our thoughts have a weight and those needing those thoughts are open to us.  There will be a tomorrow somewhere. . . and we are asked to live our lives knowing this.  Those we love are part of this knowledge.  I ask you to live it also. . .  because I do. 

 

With A Promise  . . . 

There will be a tomorrow
somewhere. . .
waiting in the sunrise.

Perhaps in the shadow
of the footprint
on which you stand
this moment. . .

Or perhaps in
the light of a morning
in a world not thought
yet into Being. . .

But you will have it,
earned by the tenor
of your days,
practiced diligently.

It will be met
with an of course,
having visited every night
and well met. . .

with a promise once again to reclaim Paradise.

 

photo by Jon Katz   (Bedlam Farm. com)

 

1

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.

0

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.

1

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.

 

0

We Only Begin. . .

(I have edited this entry for space)

The entry doesn’t sound like much, but when the footwork is done,  integrated,  along with  sorting  religious dogma shouldered throughout  lifetimes,  the work is immense.   Done while raising a family and living a life with its responsibilities, was difficult at best.  It has stymied many a stronger and bolder human. 

Was  it necessary to work so hard?  For me it was or I would continue on my knees to the bridge.    When one tries with all one has to make sense out of life and only nonsense was seen,  one must do something.   When my knock was not heard,  I crashed the gates of heaven.   

If what I  learned did not work here,  it made little difference that it might elsewhere.  Heaven took me at my insistence and for most of this lifetime,  I felt shepherded.   Everything teaches, including heartbreak.

I have spoken of my Teachers previously and  in writing about this underlying intelligence of the universes,  I would also include the response from them.   It has been a difficult thing for me to speak about with all the smirk mocking  but since my years are terminus, I want my understanding of this cosmic experience to be voiced again.  

We have had lifetimes of science doctors giving their understanding about what is normal and we all know that mankind is more than psychology.   We have and are a spiritual entity.   And we are more than test tubes and litmus papers.  We are more of who we were when earth rolled into being and we were co-creators in the world nebulae. 

I do not wish to be part of a world where those who wield power do  because of street smarts.   I wish to be part of a world where our hearts  meld with the greater heart and we have each others’ well being in our hands.  And we wish to do good.

I scribed. .journal entry Jan 5, 2014 .(this is dictation, free flowing words that take form however they do impressed silently but clearly. It is like auditing class but in thought impression.)

You have those now who no longer scoff at what life presents nor prevents.

You have on these pages that beneath the life or the worlds, there is a substance or an Intelligence.   There is nothing that would stop the ever growing list of wonders to say  how did this Intelligence come into being. 

 Whether it is the big bang theory sending molecules into form but  what is known  is that intelligence and common sense are its virtues.  We know we are not incidental to life’s picture.  There are other forms and other life cycles and we participate in all of them.  

How we know of this intelligence is by observing the work of those whose business it is to improve life.  To lift the burden of existence to a tolerable level and to wave the spirit of triumph to what has been endowed to the minds that would not stop learning.   This is what it is to be alive.   This is what life is about. 

We are placed in this environment to learn.   We are given the heads with its propensities to accomplish what the heart desires.  It is up to parents of these minds to grasp their importance and for themselves to learn the consequences of their actions.  You were right when you warned people to pick up their mistakes.   Their names are attached. 

The sages will no longer say I did what I could and did I not have fun?  This is a classroom and this is what we do.  This is our work.   And we only begin . . . 

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

0

To Be. . .sometimes is the ALL required. . . .

 

I am calling to touch base with you.  It has been too long since we chatted I said.  And after a surprised response she started and went on at great length finding her own equilibrium. 

I could do nothing for her except be an ear to listen.  She called me the next day with gratitude because she said she was ready to puddle.  And there was no one to mop her up.

Another young friend would be facing an enormous decision the following week.  I was in a quandary about what to do and then realized I could only be an assistant.  I could not decide nor input any information. 

I would plead ignorance even if  I was  expert and credentialed.  Unless asked,  there was no insight I could offer.  With today’s abundance of information,  there is too much in fact.  The brain can only handle so much since everyone is expert in everything. All I could do was stand by and catch the fall out. 

Another body, another human is what is needed.  Just presence.  Just being there is what is needed for the individual to stand and make their own decisions.  Just someone to listen to the garbage spilling forth and not stop loving them.  To take them in their frustration and to let it dissipate so the residue does not kill them.  

Just to be able to have a someone there who does not fall down will enable them to stand and do what they must.

I don’t have time for your drama a husband said and left his wife to handle the emotional conflict of the children.  At that moment he exhibited nothing to recommend him as a husband and nothing surely as a father.

Well, mister, that is what earth life, physical life is all about.  Here we learn either to handle our emotions or gift them onto unsuspecting shoulders and watch our grandchildren fight the same battles.

Is this our desire?  To see the icons of past history smashed by the frustration of generations of ancestral progeny rising demanding restitution? 

How better to spend your time than by listening to a soul in search of an ear to hear their lament?  Be the quiet symbol of peace.  Be the one who stands and gives Presence to allow the right thing to be done.  

To Be is the all we can and must do. . . . is sometimes the ALL that is required.  

 

artwork is Claudia Hallissey’s

1

Unconditional Love. . you are so worth it. . .

 

Unconditional Love?. . You are so worth it. . .

In the face of all opposition, and with many noting your lack of courage, you plod along still with what needs doing, whatever that happens to be.  Your knowledge of commitments and placement tie you to immobility and you wonder the outcome on a daily basis.

In sleep you crash heaven’s door and ask how long. . .?  And they say whenever you feel you cannot. . . no one would fault you.  But you know that worlds, just maybe, glimpse your behavior and then you think no way.  No one, not even those in your circle are aware of what goes on.  They are comfortable with things and as long as there is no upset, all systems go.

But worlds watch as the blue boy watches, you wrote.  ‘I watch-ed.  I watch-ed.  And when your lips move, I know you talk to forever friends.’  And the invisible worlds take heart and they see what they can hope for because you keep on keeping on.  Living the substitute life?  The make believe or pretend one? 

The ‘real’ one that has everyone in your circle trying to heal themselves so that the next step can be taken and evolution becomes a fact in meager life.  Meager now but fulfilling in its totality.  And why?

Because you see the larger picture as your Mentor, the Nazarene, said.  You have been seeing the larger picture, the greater one that shows the progress that can lead to peace on earth and a good life.  We assuage the anguish of the ancestors that leads to peaceful existence among men of all nations.

And worlds.  For Beings of all natures.  It is argued that unconditional love is worth little because it demands nothing.  But it is priceless because someone saw a something in me that was beyond what was expected.  It was Divine.  And it sparked a something that I claimed as mine once because I have memory and wanted it again.  And have worked to bring it into my life.

And working for me, I want you to know it also.  Because as I work, I see it in all life.  And once you know it, you cannot but see it everywhere.  And as my Mentor said, when you give me a drink of water,  all will be satiated.  And worlds also.  The ethical potential is inherent in all life.  What is done for one, all will do.

Doing good enhances all life.  Where we are is a beginning.  You are so worth it.

0

Time’s Solace. . . Appreciated. . .

When life generously offers some time to enjoy the last vestiges of breathable air, one guards those hours or days like Midas with his eyes on gold.  It is a gift to one whose head was incompletely closed and whose conscience unequivocally honed to needs of commitments.

So the free time, the private time,  the time given when nothing concrete is expected due to age and frailty of body is luxury seldom cognitively experienced.  The shelter in place edict has been the wish of mine all my life.  Not possible for three quarters of it, but desired.  To slow down and savor the salts used always was a wish.

Now it is life’s generous spirit balancing what was needed for so long.  Living to see, because of technology, the faces of the new babes entering and the love they are welcomed with is a joy. 

Not often is such evidence ours for spiritual solace.  Finding all beloveds nurturing in this sometimes sterile world lets me know that life’s commitment to teaching has been done wisely and well. 

Commitment is accountability for one’s actions.  Some call it a mortgage on one’s life.  It is a consequence of those actions.  We learn there never is a free lunch in town.  Better us to be called to account than for our progeny to hurt. 

There always is a cost and it is dear.   Life’s forgiveness?    Love. . . .

Mortgaged. . .

Our hands brush
the sleeves of our
long coats harnessing
our bodies’ warmth. . .

And meet and twine fingers
giving strength
long lost to the
business of living. . .

the busyness of lives

succumbing to the details
of days usurping
minutes not claimed,

hungry for times floating loose.
Wise is the one hugging closely
as breath to breathe what
surrounds the body as private.

Mine!  the toddler shouts,
as he grasps what is his
loudly with force
to claim ownership.

Mine man whispers as he
clings to the privacy of minutes
not already claimed
by the interminable needs

of the innocent. The
mortgaged soul has
needs to replenish
before offering more

from the well running dry.

 

photo art by 
Claudia Hallissey

0

Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes