From an Upper Floor

July 20, ’16 journal entry 

I was reading in my suffering servant essay that what we do here is felt throughout the Universes.   That we are being watched closely.  Not only our unborn but other worlds also.  Jesus was an evolutionist.  He knew that what one does eventually all will do.  Both good and evil.  Look at what is going on in the world today.   

I talk of the essence of god.  Because in quantum language Becoming is the key word.  We are all in stages of becoming other than what is, are, am.  I stutter my way with words and thoughts and do not wish to dismantle but to nudge the thinking .  We need help for our world.  And for worlds watching what happens here so that we do not contaminate the rest of the planetary systems. 

Remind us that pleasures are not the sole purpose of our agenda.  But learning is.   Of ourselves, our earth, and universal life and our innate knowledge of responsibility.  We would be reminded of what we know and taught what we do not.  Various stages of universal life watches like a visual for the vagaries of unruly children in various stages of disrepair.  We need to be healed so we can stand upright.  We know to our embarrassment what upright means.  Not so much different as correct for our time,

The snowflakes were just barely visible when the younger looked hopeful and asked can we make a snowman?  Well, I said that there really had to be a lot of snow on the ground before we could roll it into a ball and make a snowman.    We could stay up later he said and wait for the snow to fall.

But I said to him there is school tomorrow and to stay up late was not a good idea.   Then I asked him how important was it that we make a snowman?   And he looked at me in astonishment and said but how could we have Christmas without snow?   I said but what about the children who lived in places that were hot all the time and what did he think they did?

He was silent for some time and then said quietly, they make believe, don’t they?  Tell me I said, what do they make believe?  Like I do he said when I am sad or I wisht for something that doesn’t happen.   I make believe in my head that what I wisht is real and then play like it was real and pretty soon, I am happy.

Do you do that often I asked and he said lots of times.   Especially when I am hurting inside or wisht with all my might for something and even I knowed that all my might not make it real.  But then, then the hurt inside goes away when I play like it did happen and I not sad anymore.

Well, I said, this I can promise you.   When the snow piles up to just two inches and I showed him how high two inches was, we will make as big a snowman as we can.   We will roll and roll until the ball gets bigger and bigger even if it takes the whole yard!   Like higher than me, he asked.

 And I said higher than you.

And then I hugged him and thanked him for telling me how he made himself happy when he hurt inside.  How did you learn to do that I asked?

And he said, I watch-ed you.  Always I watch-ed you.

  A State of Mind     

‘Country’ is surely as much a state of mind as it is a way of life.  If it is a place, it need not be in this time and space.    It can indeed be buried so deep in memory that in the normal course of affairs, it will not be unearthed. 

Just to recognize the feeling is sufficient.  One can live in the center of the largest metropolis, yet have within the pulsating heart the yearning for ‘country’.  And find its expression, it will.

The eyes will hunger for a skyline with no buildings.  And we will find the largest field we can and pick out the hedgerows and swiftly identify the birds nesting.  The heart will be alert for the sudden movement in the shrubs and note with delight the brown eyes of the trusting doe. 

The feet will shed their years in the cool grasses and pick up  the butterfly net with the youngest child and take to the fields.  It is the metamorphosis of the most profound kind.  It is the body coming to life in however brief a time.  And sometimes, too brief.

For eyes too long held to the grimy snow of cities,  in the one whose heart brims with ‘country’  even the first city snowfall will bring to mind other times where ghosted angels cavorted in knee high drifts. 

In those very eyes the star valentine will be seen and be recognized by a similar soul trudging alongside.  It is a song to be heard and Nature calling to her own.

Touches of ‘country’ will be found everywhere.  Sometimes an ancient bowl and pitcher will have a special place to be handled carefully with dreams attached.   Or a checkered cloth with pottery will be set for dinner.  And cornflowers in a crystal vase. 

Stories will be born unto these memories brought in from deep wells of yearning and they will spring to life and hurtle into the future with internal power.

Carefully crafted wooden toys, highly polished, will seem to belong to another time.  The receiving child will still delight in what is different but unmistakably made  with love.  And the circled guests will marvel at a cobbler floating its berries in heavy cream and shush the health fanatics with ‘it doesn’t  happen every day’.

These are tributes to another time and place and also to those who keep alive a way of life for those of us less fortunate.  And the loss is felt when lives are run by the second hand on the clock, when there are no fields in center cities for children to run barefoot in grasses.

Country people whose lives are lived with their eyes to the clock, their senses to the change in wind and darkening skies and wheat fields ready on the moment for harvesting, may not readily agree.  But the differences are valuable and meaningful.  In their presence one senses the difference immediately.

It is that imperceptible hesitancy in answering a question that articulates keenly variables affecting an answer.  It is in that glance that takes in the horizon, ‘whence cometh my help’ before a commitment is made.  It is in the delicate thrust of a child’s hand in answer to a greeting.  And the firm grip of the parents’ on yours.

These come from an innate love and respect for our Earth Mother.

These are the signs of ‘country’, simple, articulate, trusting when trust is extended.  Beautiful, artfully crafted with loving hands, whether from the oven or the workshop or the knitting needles.  Signs that we cling to because our lives depend on them and they do.

So when the first snow flies in countable flakes, keep me in mind.  I will be searching the snow for the earth angels.  And I will find you.

Feeling Used?  Of Course!

And the call came and because panic ensued,  the young one got dressed and the night found him getting another vehicle running and a friend grateful to be driving home.  I asked him do they realize what they ask?  No clue, gram.  Not a clue.  They are scared to death and hope no one approaches their stalled car. 

And an other finds her time called upon to transfuse a parent with soothing words and tangibles.  Her time for making a living takes her days. And an other finds his talents are siphoned to fallouts of matchstick houses that need first aid.  And grandparents across the world these days still are pledged to keep the grandchildren from self destructing. 

And because I live with a son and in law daughter,  a sibling said, you are live in help!  As opposed to a facility that does not allow access to a kitchen where I can cook comfort foods and bake cookies?  I have been perfecting signature foods for almost 80 years and have become quite good, I think.  Where I can sit near a fireplace and drink coffee and absorb heat to thaw icy limbs to feel human?

I remember 10 and 12 hour days when I would have gone on bended knee with gratitude to find dinner prepared to welcome me home.  Or when the children were toddlers to have an afternoon for a nap or a leisurely bath.  Most grandparents have these memories and know the priceless value of them.  Or an evening for dinner out. 

Taken for granted.  Must.  Workers with conscience always are taken for granted.  Heaven has to count on us so we keep the classroom open.   

And times now flood our days with information. We feel inadequate and not caring if we are not quick to comment with knowledge about the national scene which goes from chaos to madness daily.  No one seems to have a handle on anything and no one assumes accountability.  So we have no decisions. 

Any thoughtful person realizes that the Sages and Gods are not up to decision making.  With knowledge of simultaneous times (everything happened yesterday or is happening now) most have forgotten the details of earth life.  So complex has daily life become, it takes a hands on knowledge to come through on a daily basis. 

It seems we have given no thought to updating our beliefs and myths that solace our days.  What does it matter?  A whole lot when you find yourself no longer breathing earth’s rarified air and you are waking up someplace you do not want to be.  No one wants to take on the Book of Revelation to change an iota that has been written.  Scared to death we are lest we be swiped to oblivion. 

But we don’t need an anthropomorphic god to be decent and caring people.  Or knowledgeable.  Our God of Choice is who animates us and is our GodWithin.  And if we don’t like who we are,  it is time to take ourselves to a classroom.  To school. 

Ambient adherence I call it.  Ambient adherence.   We are the example of what it means to live in a world and absorb its ambience unknowingly.  Like breathing in Covid 19 unbeknownst.  Because  someone not having symptoms is contagious.  Asymptomatic. We will kill each other and not know why and learn nothing. 

Education is the only answer to deal with a world where everyone is at a different juncture of understanding.  That is the way Evolution works.  We are not allowed to take a step toward the next until we integrate understanding of where we are.  This is the ethical structure I have come to understand.  It is God?  Ethically speaking.  Because all the accoutrements accompanying each step must be integrated and that means things like kindness and compassion. 

The subjective things understood  depends on the GodWithin.   Painful?  You bet.  Otherwise …we go down the tube again.