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Illustration of a bird flying.
  • We Are Common Knowledge. . . to grow up. . .

    When one desires to lead as an example one’s peers,  one assumes a countenance of leadership.  One has studied and served in various capacities throughout one’s life to ably serve fellowman so that they will be free to progress in whatever area they require.

    One does not play games with futures of people  and have them guessing on whether they as a country or as a world will survive.  Dealing with Nature as we know is enough of a challenge.  One does not take their time from the tasks of growth and progress which they require to aspire to their human potential.

    Leaders free people of the task of worrying what government does that is detrimental to their well being.

    This is the point of a democracy.  We elect officials to do what is best within laws which we voted  for and had instituted for the well being of all.

    To prevent accidents at corners we instituted laws and lights to prevent chaos.  We have stop and go lights telling us when to proceed and when not.  We do not make a left turn after three p.m.  because this is what we know and this we learned when we became adults to drive.

    And when we break the law we are hailed to stop and the local gendarme is a once classmate of your sons and is as embarrassed to arrest as you are to be arrested.

    We hire lawyers to litigate,  congress to legislate and have the courage to make decisions not based on their reelection but based on their legal knowledge of the constitution which we had instituted as a protection of the people living in this democracy.  We hope that the people we put in offices and pay our taxes for their livelihood will consider the importance and responsibility connected with the work and position.

    We do not want them to bully or be bullied, nor take advantage or think they are above the law.  In other words,  we want them to be as good as we try to be and better on the whole than what we think we are.  That said,  we don’t want to point the finger at their flaws and say they buffalo us.

    We don’t want their dark sides evident in daily dealings with our futures.  We don’t want to point out that they are lacking courage,  lacking truth and decency, lacking the backbone to say this is wrong and hurtful when we  are telling them that we cannot believe them.

    We don’t want speaking with forked tongues nor speaking out of both sides of their mouths.  We don’t want opinions changing because of a tweet or some slight by some talking head on the master screen that screeches day and night someone’s wind that smells to high heaven.

    What we want are grown ups that have given careful thought, careful and studious thought to matters at hand by a bevy of cultures that are diverse in this world and have a validity of presence due all people.  We expect a courtesy of behavior giving also studious comportment to all people because  they are deserving of it simply because they are human.

    This is too much to ask?  I ask you is it too much we would ask of a parent of a young child they had given birth to?  We would be dealing out in measure that which is courteous and loving because we are a caring people.  We would be teaching our children these manners because they in turn will mete out what they have been taught as they go out the front door.

    This is progress and what we as people are concerned about.  We expect it of our leaders so that all humankind will progress and we as an example to all worlds will not be ashamed.  That seems to be a lost emotion in these times and embarrassment as a word for behavior seems also to be lost.

    The only excuse offered by those committing these behaviors is the old cliché of being only human.  Well the divine also resides in us and we give a bad name to our divinity.

    Of course the problem with pointing the finger at flaws of those we elect to govern is that the thumb points at us revealing our flaws in duplicate.  We can identify them because we can relate.  So the question is when are we going to grow up?

    All of us have work cut out for us.  To educate ourselves and make ourselves well versed in what we expect others to do, to behave, to treat with courtesy, honor and trust that we would like.  We are all wounded with the arrows from our own bows.

    We would like to hide our own faults and think only we know of them.  I heard with unbelief an elder say that people only know what we let them know.  If I know something and have seen it, then someone around the corner has taken a picture of it and the bird in the tree has carried the words and has sung them down the street and it is now common knowledge.

    My god has spoken to your god and the gods’ network is as volatile and furious as the old boys’ network.  So consider that we are participants in both visible and invisible worlds.  Take a quantum leap because

    we are common knowledge from the beginning.                                                                         

    January 6, 2018
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • Gleanings. . .

    Reason will convince in its own time.  Violence never does.

    *****

    Reason will convince doubly with example.

    ******

    Life is purposeful, though not entirely reasonable.  There is no more reason above man than there is where he is.

    *****

     

    All of Earth is a demonstration in belief systems. This is the place where diverse belief systems can coexist with freedom and life can go on within the system one chooses.  This is assuming man realizes where his freedom ends and an other’s begins.

    *****

    Man must come to terms with the fact that there are many systems with validity.

    *****

    Principles do not work by magic.  They must be understood and applied where you are and then you take them with you wherever you go.

    *****

    We can say that the outer reflection is what is evident to the internal house.

    *****

    The philosophy one chooses must be applicable where one is.  It must be understood.  Only by swimming in it does one understand the shape of the tide and the temperature of the water.

    *****

    The moment we say ‘who am I to know?’ we are not worth the knowledge.

    January 4, 2018
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • The Mortgaged Soul. . .

    Taking Time. . .

    You say that it takes all your time to do what it is you do.  And you are the only person who can speak from that point of knowledge knowing what is required.  But we were all born doing reference work in the Talmud which teaches that the purpose of life is to learn.  And we must.  And we do, though not all at the same rate. 

    In this life much is expected of us we think.  And with so many distractions, it takes longer and longer to maintain a just quality of life.  We know we cannot unbid what we have committed ourselves to.  Therefore it behooves all to choose with some knowledge what becomes our priorities. 

    The privacy of minutes becomes non negotiable, except where life is in danger.  In this world where cultures are changing, it is imperative that talks ensure the fair exchange of work and accountability.  Otherwise we run the risk of bankrupt lives and mortgaged souls.  And we are an aging populace whose futures already are written on the walls.

    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
    to replenish his own needs
    before offering more

    from the well running dry.

     

    primitive art by Veronica

    January 1, 2018
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • A Toast From The Heart. . .

    A Toast For a New Beginning. . . .

     

     

    Let us drink in

    the sight of each other

    and let loose

    those preconceived dreams

    keeping us from

    breathing in the essence

    of the new year.

    With these we will face

    a blessedness comparable to none.

     

    Come,  drink and be merry.

    We will welcome one another

    forevermore and be glad.

     

    Salut!                                                           

    December 29, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • The Road To Damascus. . . .

    Just One Time. . . .

    All it takes is one cosmic experience and your life is changed forever.  Just one and either you will run down the street in your altogether and the men in white coats will take you away or it will alter your life  so that even you won’t recognize the words as coming from you.  Let alone the rest of your circle.  Because you will walk with one foot unalterably planted in another world and your perception of this life will take on proportions never thought possible.  And you will speak  hesitantly but you will work with an attitude that tells everyone that you know how important it is to do what is right. Never will there be half way measures again taken and never will it be done catch as catch can because ‘it don’t make no matter.’  Because you know it does and if this beloved classroom is to continue as it must,  you know now that what you do matters a lot.  We will from this day be held accountable.

    The cosmic experience will differ with  each person.  And it will happen,  it will.  Sometimes it is just a glimpse that has you gasping and turning white, or a voice from a somewhere you recognize and have loved,  or a thought inserted that stops your heart momentarily.  Any number of  things not pertinent to the moment but meaningful.  And meant for you.  For you.  It will be a beginning and you will be on an inner journey that will take a lifetime.  You will be on your own road to Damascus. . . my heart goes with you. . . .

    The Road To Damascus. . .

    And Paul,
    on the road to Damascus,
    unaware of forces pulling
    at his thought
    was none the less surprised.

    In the privacy of mind,
    how could an invasion
    of thought not his own
    be in conference?

    So it is,
    in the wars of the visible
    and invisible worlds,
    the supremacy for power
    does not stop.

    Our worlds! Claim the gods. . .
    My world!  Claims the pilgrim.
    One in partnership
    till man tasted the lust for power.

    Lest we lose this,
    the best of all classrooms,
    brotherhood is still the dream
    and our hearts still too unripe
    to embrace its benevolence.

    But its power
    of magnetism still attracts
    what prompted this dream
    that catapulted us

    to give search to the meaning to the why of us.

     

     

    art by
    Claudia Hallissey

    December 27, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • A Time In The Heart. . .

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    It never occurred to me before.  As often as I said that this is a classroom of a first order, and we must keep it not only for ourselves but for those to come,  it just never occurred to me that it was the purpose of the classroom to stay the classroom.  That things were not going to change because this is its purpose and any change must come from the individual.  We can be the example but change anyone, not.

    The bottom of my world fell out when I realized that no matter how hard I worked, the only change wrought was what I did to myself.  I mattered.  The good I did was a spill off from my cup runneth over.  Good that came from abundance was lasting good, but when it came from duty resentment clouded the issue.  I think that is the kicker.

    We feed our belief system to build ourselves into what we need to be.  The good coming from actions benefit us first or it is not lasting good.

    Because people are born into different cultures, my small hope I harbor is that all countries are emerging as united states in that there is mingling and borning of different peoples everywhere.  Where children are born into a variety of mixtures and children are color blind.  And grandparents have to acknowledge eventually that whatever color our grandchildren they have our habits!  Saints praise us!

    I may make peace with myself but it does no good for my neighbors.  They must make peace within themselves.  And thus within the cradle of the heart will be the birth of peace.  And Christmas is a time in the heart.  I wish each of you the best of these holy days or holidays.  Thank you for being in my life.

    December 23, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • The Light In Our Hearts. . .

    We carry the Light in our hearts
    and it reflects in your eyes.

    You carry the heat of its flame
    and we both are warmed.

    Silvery, silvery night,
    piercing as the child’s cry
    cuts sharply into complacency,
    peace-ing the soul;
    unerringly slipped
    into a world of nights
    to make a difference.

    The Light and Flame linger.

    Do you see what we see?

     

    (The candle was another effort in the late ‘70s when I started the Christmas cards when our David was diagnosed with cancer.  They were still done with materials at hand and what I was limited with time and funds.  What was in abundance was emotion.  It was a time of upset but life does in its minute ways to compensate.  As I made these in the late hours of the night much was igniting my inner life.  In ways I can hardly believe, I was a mystic still in those days of hectic secular life with its complex issues to deal with.  In retrospect,  I lived it all and did everything I saw to do but in innocence did not know what I was truly doing.   Uppermost was the intent to create memories that would sustain in spite of circumstances.  This was a need as I saw it.)

     

     

     

    December 21, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • What The World Needs. . . .

    The Tender Embrace. . .

     

    We all speak from memory.  Whether it is ours or not, it makes little difference.  For within us it is so that the one time speaks for all time.  And everything else is a variation on a theme.  I could not know how deep the emotion which evoked the tears.  Enough said that at one time in a history it happened and given a glimpse this photo brought forth another ocean.

    The words were a Given.  From this point in time, the meaning is such that it brings hope.  For what I don’t really know but that they make a difference is one.  It is a Christmas gift to all with what the heart of Jon Katz caught with his camera.  Eloquent.

    We Need Not Speak. . .

    We need not speak.
    Centuries ago we passed
    from realms noted for words.

    We now simply look
    toward the Other and know
    by obvious signs what the Other seeks.

    It is a far cry
    from the world of words where
    the simple I  love you spoke
    what reams of paper
    could not properly say.

    It was a love letter that united
    planets of thought
    that we searched.
    I will miss these words

    spoken from lips pressed
    to my ear only to have
    the world know
    by the tender embrace                                                                                                                        

    that the words were meant only for my heart.

     

    December 18, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • And Gather Moonbeams. . .

    We Dance. . .

    We dance then
    through the night sky
    and gather moonbeams
    for our baskets. . .

    We 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. . .

    The light is a reflection of you.
    The love spewing forth as largess
    from the largest cup
    is what you have to give.

    And the supply is neverending. . .

     

    December 17, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
  • Tangible Slices of Memory. . . .

    This was from the box of forget-me-nots that I couldn’t part with.
    This was the first Christmas card I made.  With whatever I have gained in computer literacy,  I have been able to restore a reasonable semblance of the faded copy I was able to unearth.  There was no discretionary income to spend on materials, so I used what I had on hand and could garner out of the slim household budget.

    I wrote what was in my heart and what I wanted to share with those I cared about.  It amazes me still that there are responses so poignant when something touches people.  And I keep those in my heart pocket.

    It taught me that when given from the heart, response also is heart given.  It cannot be otherwise or consequences to intentionally deceive under skilled rhetoric  has its own judge and jury to be confronted.  Our actions might as well be in stone.  They are not forgotten.  Perhaps the lesson should be revived?

    Looking at the card now after so long a time,  I notice the Star Of David I hung on it.  Even way back then I embraced all belief because I was certain with apriori child memory that everything was God.  I stumble about what to capitalize because everything in life is Divine.  Perhaps I should Lock Caps on my keyboard.

    (the following was the verse for the card)

    Lifetimes lived secreted
    behind the wooly frames of memory.

    We jog the frames
    of Christmases past. . .

    Scents of
    pine boughs and holly berries
    mince pies and cranberries. . .
    crackling fires and laughter

    And the sound of silence,
    as love stretches through all dimensions
    to encircle Thee and Me.

    As real, as tangible,
    as the star beams
    on the evergreen.

    A promise, given and kept.

    Do you hear the angels?

     

    December 14, 2017
    Veronica Hallissey
    Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
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