We persist in thinking we might make a difference because we don’t know when we might make a difference.
*****
When illusions are unmasked, coping mechanisms prove unable.
*****
Death is a triumph. The tragedy would be had we never been.
*****
A cynic is someone on the threshold of understanding.
*****
Man’s God is a ‘controlled substance.’
*****
Man is a prime example of ‘substance abuse.’
*****
An image is a reflection of an idea.
*****
All worlds are reflections of ideas in various stages of completion.
*****
Love underwrites the hope always. It has to be the basis for all of life.
*****
We. . . are always safe.
*****
Sometimes the body goes out of control and aches. It is an ache with a memory.
*****
If you are not gun shy after being shot, then you don’t understand the purpose of a gun.
*****
Within is the treasure and without the within, there is no without
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.
There are times, and this is one of them, that is a heartbreaker. I have long loved this Earth of mine and readers know even as a child I have felt this love. When weather devastates the very places I have known, it is a keen pain.
Last week it was Houston and that was difficult to view. This weekend it was Florida and up until November I was a resident in the state. The evergreen forest that backed up our property was a delight for me. And always in my mind and heart will be the rest I found when my eyes sought their profound beauty. To think now that forest must be in shambles hurts greatly. The devastation that has come with this hurricane to the people and homes I have difficulty accommodating. Facing the problems that come with flooding and the work involved has me hoping there are young bodies with boundless love and energy beside the homeowners.
Having been in a wicked storm with a basement flooding and boxes still unpacked and damaged, the only solution was to discard them. Though years have passed I still have thoughts that begin, I wonder what happened to??? And I used to have??? And then I had a copy of the book??? And of course what else was in those boxes, at this time I have no idea. But as a grandson said to me at the time, it’s only stuff, grandma, only stuff. He is right of course and I remember to this day that it is only stuff. Because when a family comes through a time of devastation and everyone is accounted for, that is what is important. When arms hug bodies and leave their imprint on your heart it is gratitude that we feel having come through together. Most stuff can slowly be replaced. Beloveds, never and we know that.
But my generation of elderlies came through some times that the youngers have no way relating to because many generations separate us. I remember saying to my mother when something was discussed and I said to her, but it only costs a dime! And she from a time I could not relate to because I knew love and a full stomach, said, but when you don’t have a dime, it is a lot of money. So many things lost that are memorable because planning and yearning at a time of no money in lives when those items or collections had a meaning. Gone are those symbols and icons of a life lived. Meaningless in themselves but representing a something. Stuff yes but a time remembered.
Grateful always that beloveds came through. The work begins now to rebuild with hope eternal.
(click on the photo to fill your screen. That was my forest.)
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.
Amid all the events of these weeks, a saddened addition for me was the knowledge that a favorite TV person of mine is retiring due to ill health. For over 30 years Nancy Zieman , (Sewing WithNancy) has been a visitor to my home. I happened onto her program and she became a mentor in sewing for me.
She was a wondrous teacher. Sewing was not a natural talent for me. Everything I did was with effort and sweat. A straight seam was never a reality. I wobbled. I frayed. But I did not give up because of Nancy. With a lifetime of obstacles, she persevered and ended up with a business that gave work to both sides of her family and friends included. How could a crooked seam stop me?
Recovering from the events in my life at that time, I was taught that uniting effort in mind with hand you consume an enormous portion of life. Woodworking was cherished until fraught with carpal tunnel and the thought of lost digits, so the sewing machine became the medium of choice. Nancy showed me how to put together small pieces of fabric to make a something. And that something was not only useful but accepted with gratitude!
Fortunate it was at that time knit fabrics became desirable. I became a proud owner of one of the first sergers. Nancy taught me to use it and I still do. Difficult to thread even now but I learned. I became queen of tee shirts and knit shorts and would never have known the joy of having a daughter say to me ‘we were already late but he threw all the pants out of his dresser and shouted that he wanted the soft pairs that grandma makes!’ And that child was overjoyed when I learned to double line the knees in the knit pants that Nancy taught.
I take pleasure in learning. It is a joyous (sometime) way to live. She was an exceptional teacher. She made the steps easy and I could do them. She said there would be errors but nothing that could not be fixed. She encouraged me to think on my own. She showed how to do something and I took her ideas and ran like the wind. She taught quilting and though after 30 years I am still very primitive in my execution, I love the art. Because she taught me to love the process. She taught me that my effort counted and was felt in the wearing or the looking. How could you not love a teacher who taught that?
My age will put me there first Nancy, but I hope there is a world that we meet. Good teacher that you are, I would be honored. This is a talent that you profoundly fulfilled and I thank you. There are those whose work is undoubtedly professional, but none would match my gratitude for what you taught me in so many ways about my efforts. That is what is priceless.
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.
It’s a loaded question, this one of evolution. Ask anyone’s definition, they will either stutter or give an answer that barely touches the meaning. Mostly they will be arguing whether it is man-animal or animal-man we have in mind. Or they do. To confirm the statement that evolution has been stagnant in many areas, let us look at some things.
The simple meaning of please and thank you is something everyone! they say knows. But they don’t. In some cultures it is unheard of for males to say please and thank you. Or to ask for anything when they assume females should know their wants. Not needs, but wants. A cuff upside the head tells of their displeasure.
For some areas of the world, evolution enhances the abilities of people to conceptualize. That is to conceive of a thought and to be able to see it manifest. For others, the ability is not yet evident and is outside the frame of reference.
Draw a picture, they say. Show me what you mean. They are unable to take the steps from point A to point B simply because the brain has not evolved to do this task. Yet in some areas they show magnificent talents to feed themselves from local wild spaces Knowing inherently the difference between edible and toxic plants.
There are emotions that are unknown to various peoples. Groups arrive from worlds where emotions are unknown, not evidenced even in the toddler. By example they must be taught to hug and love and show some feelings. In some even honest anger is unknown.
Mythic writings tell of worlds (Lemuria is one) where fight or flight is the way of life. Our world calls them myths but myths have weight to them when we are confronted with members who cannot face obstacles or facts that cause unrest. We say in today’s world they are in denial, when their inability to confront may indeed stem from the world they came from.
We know the saying that as the twig is bent, so shall it grow. The majority assume that life after birth bends the twig. It is long past time for us to note that there is a history to each of us apriori. We come from worlds that have already shaped us and continue to shape us.
This does not mean we cannot change. Because of the example of someone we admire, or love or honor, we by due process change ourselves. We evolve, we grow. And we take giant steps. Evolution. We can become all that our full potential promises.
You Must Not Think. . .
You must not think
it is useless to have trudged
the overgrown path
to make a road
easier for the one to follow.
We must grow up
and put on training pants.
It is time.
We must develop discipline
to house the night’s pleasures
and discipline
to work our days.
Evolution is what the name
of the game is,
but it really is life;
a way station only to the stars,
on the way home.
photo by John Stanley 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 few weeks ago there was an evolutionary find with a faceless fish. I knew that graphic because I have what you see beside this in an October 8. 1987 journal entry. I knew it was somewhere in my journals but there was no way I could remember where. Last night as I was note taking I came across this. In my night treks I have entries that depict worlds I encounter. I will share them when I come across the entries.
From this journal entry October 8, 1987. . . .I wrote. . . There were so many exquisite dreams or consciousness of worlds so gentle. A Nord, a Kern, so many little gentle fishes and animals shaped so strangely, but so gentle. These creatures were moving with their babies, scurrying every which way. Blunt heads and tails moving.
So much is given, so much to write about but who cares. I care and that is a beginning. Why not create a need for something that will expand the limitations structures have given us. Something that will move the lines out that will give my grands memories of life in other dimensions. I cannot be certain, but knowing who I am, only within my structures, I can suppose what they are, carrying what I am in them.
(the following quotes are the Teacher’s response from August 12, 1987 concerning the worlds I know. . .) we are using what you do to the fullest extent and you will be remembering more and more of where you have been.. . The worlds you inhabit are worlds most avoid because they are unfamiliar and cause discontent and frighten. You appear where you are needed and the one looking for you appears where you are.
They are not just one world. There are places of beauty that still the heart. Places of poverty that touch the living heart and strum with songs of despair that cannot but help but be heard. There are barren places, lush places and places that speak of the mind.)
And other worlds watch with eagle sight what we do in our handling of issues that have direct effect on their welfare as evidenced by our compassion (or lack of) and words. The moment presents a full plate for us and we plead only one world to handle at a time. But transition from physical life involves us eventually. For beloveds we utterly hope for what heaven we envision and for ourselves we hope the night is kind.
(when I did the journal entry on the date, I drew the fish as I remembered them in the margins. I copied them on the board this morning best as I could. When I saw the graphic on Television, I knew it right away!. I am humbled.)
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.
My friend and I were sitting in the hall waiting for the class doors to open. I looked at the hanging painting and had to look away. It made me sick to my stomach. I knew the painting but not the artist. It was of a one floor building, stark in a barren landscape. The barrenness set my teeth on edge. My friend asked me if I was suddenly ill. I told her I knew that place in the bleak landscape and it was desolate.
The following was scribed about the painting in a journal entry. . . . The barracks were not in the painting. There was an isolated house you had already seen. You have been there and have given it your best work. It demands workers to progress. The shillings ( money was shillings; why I don’t know) did not pay for the enormous amount of labor involved. It is occupied territory for the barracks were significant. We were told there was a type of evolution concerning mind taking place and a large physical work involved with the refinement of spirit .
You thought it was a nowhere but it is a world of some time and a where. People need to give thought to what life everlasting means. If heaven means playing the harp on a cloud, have they given thought to harp lessons? Even with the promise of wine, the vineyards are in need of workers. Fields are unplowed. Work needs to be done. Lives lived make a certain shaped something of us. And boredom leads to trouble. A case in point, out of boredom Earth was created and it hasn’t been a walk in the park, now has it?
I have stood open mouthed and gaped when illusions have been shattered. I labeled them bellywhoppers when they first doubled me over. Coming into life with an open head did little to keep me innocent but it did make me say many times, I can’t believe!!! whatever happened or was said. Heaven stood by and gaped as I glued the pieces together. An open head helped to understand the reasons why of behavior, but heaven never said it would be easy to live with.
If you are not an immigrant now, in our next worlds we will be. For certain. Keep that in mind in the daily issues here.
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.
In the midst of catastrophic events such as the ongoing flooding in Texas, we wonder if what we are able to do can truly make a difference. It seems this topic is being brought up often lately in our lives and the little we are able to do individually seems small indeed.
Even when it appears to be a lost cause, it is not. That someone cares enough to do what needs to be done is never a lost cause. There cannot ever be a lost effort to do good in the universe. That would be an oxymoron, a contradiction. The ability to see this is paramount. Even when no words are spoken there needs to be someone who cares enough to help expedite matters. If there is not, it is a futile life. But should there be caring, there is hope and a chance for life again.
Even those of lesser stuffs, those stuffs are only lesser because of the parameters set by others. Take the parameters away and there are no limits for good. And that is what good is all about, what gods are all about. Within the person there are no limits for good. What is life sustaining and life giving wherever the need is, is good.
When we wander through the mental houses of those we care about or are responsible for and find much that we would like to help with and then decide not to, the ‘then not’ means we wash our hands of the matter. To wash one’s hands of the matter is to relegate all to the dung heap.
If the one who can do something about anything finds the matter too sticky, the flies will be attracted and the matter will deteriorate and rot. The purpose of keeping on, keeping on means that the people are still worth the effort. As long as a some one cares, there is hope. Just one to care is needed.
I am adding the following thoughts to your already overburdened mind because we are aging and we also see the lack of personal responsibility in our elected officials too often. Please include the thoughts for your prayerful consideration because futures of invisible audiences depend heavily on those who are clueless and dispense grave injustices.
Any imperceptible change to do good, no matter how small, will be felt in your circle and others will change. And the circle will grow and the genetic characteristics will be changed by due process and evolutionary change will be instituted.
However microscopic. Seems like small potatoes when the catastrophe such as we face looms so large, doesn’t it? But it is not. There will be change on a larger scale and when that change is evident throughout the behavior of humankind, we then have the evolution to a higher form of being. What is done here on this planet of Man , this Earth, there will be the refinement of policies and behavior throughout the universes.
If we go to those places of worship we say we do, then we give thought to immortality. Hiding somewhere in our thoughts and behavior is the world we prepare for. Let it not be a rude awakening. It takes just one, just one to include this thinking in our attitudes. Let our good extend to the invisible life. We were told that what we do for one we do for all. Let us be that just one someone to begin.
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.
Sometimes things need to be repeated because the lesson has been worn and the fit now is less traumatic. On November 5th, 2013 USA TODAY had an article that the space observatory Kepler telescope had shown that about 8 billion stars in our galaxy had planets almost the size of Earth that could support life. Flares should have been sent up by our religious institutions that emphasized the fact that our Father’s House Has Many Rooms. The beginning centuries’ mentality could think in those terms only because at the horizon man thought he dropped off the Earth. Less than a handful at that time could grasp a subliminal concept.
Even now tempers still rage over evolution/creation and evolution/salvation. Surely we will evolve to the point where we will see some truth, a truth in all when our brains enlarge to grasp the larger understanding? There are those whose lives were dedicated to the divine in all life and even God in a rock.
Destiny brings mavericks to Earth to enhance physical life. They possess intelligence beyond what institutions teach. They are not trendy nor dress in costumes designed for fashion. They speak not of reality shows but of substance showing that thought is their companion. When recognized one would surely yearn for such a companion.
They speak of life elsewhere. And not of linear measurement. Their worlds are rich with forms patterned by consciousness invisible to the common man. Where worlds are filled with thoughts having a reality palpable. Where mind speaks the nuance of meaning not needing the vocabulary as understood. Where these worlds outside our own, watch closely the actions of Earth gods that will determine their futures, for many of them already acknowledge the divinity within mankind. And the divinity is an uncertain kind when viewing man’s behavior.
The ancient knowledge of the mystics must be understood to uncover man’s future progress. Man has argued for his rights loudly and now must own his responsibility.
On The Universal Watch. . .
Glancing into the icy calm
of the darkened sky,
leaving little to the night’s magic,
is a knowledge from minds in action.
Saying little in languages understood,
it moves itself with intelligence,
looking for evidence bespeaking intent.
Always wary, ever beseeching,
reaching conclusions seeking
a desired peace with an enduring future.
Not only one world in motion with
an anxious search, but many
whose futures are determined by the
results of a whirling planet
whose emotions are in turmoil.
A learning place, a starting place,
whose tentative decisions determine
the futures of roles dependent on
the unbridled, unharnessed emotions
of childhood still groping.
Worlds looming as non entities,
not proven by the laboratories
of the science gods,
is life in other forms;
as intelligent, viable, thoughtful,
as intent on living within the realm
of their possibilities as we on Earth.
Searching as we do as gods for an enduring Peace.
photo by
John D. Holmes
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 I contribute to are more philosophical questions than most are interested in. More biblical inquisitions than I would go for answers. I don’t know but what there are few sources that I would find cogent or even unbiased.
There are those who argue the universe is benign. I find myself venturing toward its viable good because we would have long ago disappeared with so much behavior ending in violence. God is life itself. Life is god. When I walked with an elder and said I love life she said she never thought to think anything about life other than to get through it somehow. Who did she think was checking her progress and keeping tabs? If at all?
We walked down the street and it was snowing as we came out of the diner and the street was cast with a falling snow and the evergreens were shadowed in front of us, like some high peaks shrouded in a mist. Beautiful, so beautiful and I wanted her to see what I saw. I thought she did. But she did not. It was as nothing to her.
I cannot understand why people hold onto this life with such tenacity when they do not love life.
The next day we walked to do some errands. At the corner of my street I heard a marvelous bird song. I stopped and looked up and there was a solitary bird singing his mighty song. I see you, I said and I hear you. And he stopped his singing.
After a few streets of seeing and hearing and then not seeing the birds, I finally said do not stop your singing though I cannot see you. And they continued to sing. My bird ritual.
To me this is life. This is god. This is dominion. It is mine and I love it and cherish it and it is good. God is the divine in me, within every creature and thing. The All has movement, a motion and a right to be, though obviously not in words destined to be understood in our world with a vocabulary to define it.
The contradictions are apparent and there are many simply because our focus is too narrow to contain it all. And the brain not equipped for enlarged understanding. Evolution is a process.
But this much I know. That which keeps me breathing and moving and loving is Spirit, part and parcel of the All That Is, and of which I am.
(excerpt from poem Life Everlasting . . . )
I can see, I say for this is mine. . .
only with how I perceive
this limited existence.
Fair enough, for this time, I think,
but only for this time.
There will be other times
when it will not be enough. . . .
And then I grow unto his splendor. . .
I will be guided unto his doorway
and I will be led. . .
And there will never be a final time . . .
It only begins here and now and
again it will be time to move on.
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.
There was a little exchange with an elder. I said, but you told me this and I believed you! That was your problem! was the retort. But why say it if it is not true? And then the paradigm spilling forth; ‘there isno one so gullible as the one who loves you!’ There was laughter, indeed.
Over such a small matter as saying that when you come to Wednesday of the week, the rest was a piece of cake! And I believed. And I worked very hard being promised relief. Wonderful exchange, wonderful lesson. And again in a manner deserving of note, learned that no one is so gullible as the one who loves you.
The one loved needs to be trusted and the one loving the loved needs to know these matters are not to be treated lightly. Trust must undergird all relationships of note or all else erodes.
(excerpt from the poem)
Trust. . .
What precious treasure
to compare to this?
What pearl or diamond rare
has seen its equal?
Who would not raise it high
for world upon world to see?
And guard with life
if this be asked?
Not often given, but rarely refused
by those who trust have earned.
A burden love has made light.
Trust is a burden love has made light.
photo by
John Stanley 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.
