From an Upper Floor

This potholder was made by our friend Sally’s mother.  She made many of them and when she left this earth, Sally gave each of us a potholder to take home.  And I tell you true, every time I have used this I bring to mind Sally’s mom to wonder if she made great strides in the world she graduated to.   I envision her head and shoulders above the crowd.

Her work still tells me that she was good because even in her terminus, endtimes, she cut straight and sewed straight.  Though I cannot prove so, my experience tells me that when our thought gives life and not takes it, it becomes our signature and our prayer.  When this becomes our knowledge and we see all of life’s connections, we wear it like a second skin so to speak.

When we hit a soft spot in the road, where the questions loom large and we wonder how much of a difference do we actually make, the answer looms large with a zero. And we can lament in this soft place for the rest of our days and wait for our name to be called. For called it will be though not as soon as we would like.

If we are fortunate, we have left a flap of the tent open, and a breeze will waft in. And in that breeze will be word from a someone we have touched with either a word or an action, or simply a touch of what we have no idea. It will bring tears if we are distraught  and relief and a reason to pick up our lives and begin again.

The heavens count on this to happen because workers are few and not many show up.  So, they prevail in ways unimaginable to alert who can be of  help. We the ones who have wondered our input with resulting fatigue, are surprised who we hear from.

We have people who tell us because of affection, that we have no idea how far our work goes and how many are affected by what we do.  When we the workers do not hear once in a while, we are wondering if it is worth the effort what we do.   And oftentimes, truth be told, we are the ones  who are the beneficiaries of what we do. More often than not, because we made the effort, we became stronger and more courageous.

And in  the process though it might have taken a lifetime, we learned a few things, and among them was the fact that our God or god, works only as hard as we do.  What that portends for us cannot be imagined at the outset of the lifetime.

When this hits us is when life itself has presented more on our plates than what we can bear.  We can be assured on this lovely planet, that the calamities rising will be commensurate with what the cosmos thinks we should be dealing with and handling with expertise if we are in the game of searching for our sainthood.

If we are lamenting too long and the heavens are not ready to let loose a worker because as I said  often, workers are few and hard to find.  But comes to us a day when we think absurdly, is this all there is?  Then comes our reason to be;  to enhance life  for all.  We may not know for sure, but I have no time to waste.  Can you?

Just a potholder?  I like to think she was a prayer with a nudge to do her very best.  And hope I do likewise.

On being a more human being. . .

When I first decided to make a small table out of a no longer used chopping block, I  think the cosmic forces went into cardiac care.  I remembered safe practises learned from my brothers and sons, but neglected to secure the work on the table.  With care I did not sever fingers.

When I held the scroll saw in my hands, it was a different experience.  I am a carpenter was the thought.  Why I wondered did it feel so familiar and what else was skirting my nimbus?  Much I was to learn, because it was the beginning of a long and satisfying relationship.

In time, I hated to give up my woodworking, but with carpal tunnel and weak hands,  it was a worry to  contemplate accidents with power tools.

There were  mixed reactions at the dinner table with my ventures into these male games, but I kept learning much about  males and also about me.  Since education is my passion, and learning  gives me a real high, it is not something taken lightly.  It is my work every day and what I feed my mind is literally what is my soul keeper.

My learning passion covers much with intensity that pushes people away.  But I have learned to quell my enthusiasms.  It has also led me into topics which puzzle and create conflict. 

One such is the present topic of trans genders.  There is much said erroneously and much not given thought to because it would involve mind work that few would want to  start. 

Like where did the idea originate with the very young and who is responsible to teach and help them understand? And why some young and why now?  Or why never these particular  thoughts in just this way?  And  why did I begin my post with these two stories of my male ventures into power tools?  And why the feelings?

I have long talked of my writings encouraged by a grandson.  And who set up my blog.  We have had a trusted relationship for a long time and he thought time for me to say how I write and think and hear, because he could relate.

I chose the Nazarene,  the Christian God  as my mentor for various reasons.  One of them being that he said as the tree is bent so shall it grow.  To me after years of study the reason the tree is bent was that we have a history.  Meaning that we have lived before, apriori.  He taught about life everlasting though I never heard nor read how come or why. 

Because my thought and arguments have been sustaining, I come to these conclusions.  Male and female we have been and some of us more inclined to one gender than the other.

As a female this time, I have enjoyed with satisfaction the roles which have been mine.  I  also remember and have joy in using power tools and have been required to do male jobs if I wanted things  done.  

The cosmic sages consider me a trusted brother.   My children grew beneath my heart.  I am their mother first and foremost. 

 I consider all my talents contributing to a more complete human being.  Mankind’s purpose is to learn how to be a universal participant in life’s diversity. 

Understand from the beginning life has been difficult.  Different I did not know.  I was like my siblings and they were like me.  Was I treated the same as they?  For whatever reason I was in trouble though to me I sounded and talked like everyone else. 

It was in religion class that big trouble followed me.  I say to you that my head found no argument with what was in it.  Only when my world crashed in my  head with a tsunami let loose with words said lacerating my heart, that I pounded the walls and shouted ‘close up my head.’

Being a farm girl there was only work and no time for talk about different .  There was feeling of no love.  As I  grew to a larger world, learning became a way of being good and causing no strife.  My head was full of curious things and the handful of friends sought me and when our children came, they loved me.

My first psychiatrist said you realize others do not see what you see.  I said nothing and he choked out my god, you don’t.  Many of my thoughts with ikons did not  have putting places.  They were real and useful because of memories from previous worlds, therefore true. 

I still want to make better and enhance life and my commitments.  I love deeply and  not always wisely.  At almost a hundred years, I tire quickly.  My conclusions?

The journey is ours and we determine our purpose.  Life is not always kind  because of mistakes either in numbers or choices.  Some of us have not grown up but have languished in play.  We are hopeful that someone will be a good teacher and open a way home. 

We come with  open heads, open hearts and open arms and often not completely sealed.   And some of us with memories of all who we are.  Most of us do not wish to be in a circus.  Help all to be compassionate to hold life with people and creatures sacred. 

It is my prayer.