From an Upper Floor

At Her Bedside

At Her Bedside

She would not last long, I thought, frail as she was, lying there
with her eyes filling. She said, they are telling me that the only way to get off
is to step off.   She made circles with her hand while she lay in the bed, as

white as the sheets she lay on. The circles she made in the air, went round and
round and I watched her and then found the courage to ask who ’they’ were.
And she looked surprised at me as if the question was not even necessary for

me especially. She said the Teacher, the Teachers. They are telling me that
I can get off and another time I will get back on and one would suppose
a roller coaster but this of course was our Earth she talked of.

And I know why now, she said, why my mother could not come back to get me
when she said she would. She left me at Father Baker’s Orphanage and the
Sisters would not let her back because she coughed with consumption.

We often heard of the Sisters at the orphanage who wore black habits lined
with white and they looked like birds with black wings. We heard how the
five year old was so frightened that she could not speak. She told us how

her mother was going to come for her as she promised and I know now she said,
she would have but I always thought she did not want me. And that was why she
left me. And my mother, now withered in age, but calmly smiling the child’s smile,

knew that she was loved.    Never knowing a mother’s love, she did not know
how to give a mother’s love to the children she bore.   Never knowing a mother’s
love, I gave to mine what I sorely missed. The circle closes.

They say, she went on, the Teachers talk of things I do not know and I know I
cannot believe as you do and I told her that there was room and time for all of us.
We had never talked of the road I traveled nor the scythe I worked of rusty vintage.

There was never a place of rest for either of us to talk of Spirit or worlds that
circled mine or even the only one she recognized. Now I am as old as she was then
and holding me upright are teachings I broke open the gates of heaven for because

of a Need To Know.   I carried my burden to her bedside and I affirmed for her what
the Teachers already did. And she was my affirmation. She never knew me and she
wept. She never knew the head I carried on shoulders folding under the weight of a

soul I bartered for knowledge. She will one day remember a someone whom she knew
who queried the heavens as she will grow to do.   She will also storm the heavens if
need be because of a someone she knew who had nowhere else to go.

Art by Claudia Hallissey

July 1, 2015

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.
Privacy And Secrecy

There is a world of difference between privacy and secrecy. One can ask for privacy and choose it for one’s life but secrecy is another matter altogether. It is drawing a cover or placing some barrier between what one does on one side and with explicit orders not to be viewed by the other.

Yet privacy is simply asking for sacred ground around oneself. And granting it to others should they request it. Secrecy says it is none of your business what I do and privacy says you know what I do and I ask that you protect me from those gaping stares.

Privacy is when you close the bathroom door and secrecy is when you delete or hide the computer screen when I arrive at the door, so I will not be party to what is going on. When a discussion cannot be open between partners, whether married or not, in business or not, then it is secrecy on someone’s part that fails to disclose heartfelt issues or commonly held issues. But we know that all secrets eventually will be revealed. Our characters, our honor, trust, our word rests on these two words, privacy and secrecy, when we are in a relationship with an other.

Privacy is a courtesy we extend to each other in those matters where our wellness is secured. We extend this courtesy because we are in a human family. And that includes everyone, not only immediate family. Secrecy is a two edged sword. It harms not only the other but us too. Whether it is on a personal level or otherwise, it is not a world I am comfortable with. It means I need someone to watch my back. Why would we choose to live in such a world?

Painting by Claudia Hallissey

June 29, 2015

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.
Dreamed Into Being

His hand came down on the table with a thump! If anyone can create a world, he said, you can! I knew nothing about world creation but this Philosopher-Lawyer son of ours who gifted me with his conversation hours into years as he returned home for treatment of his health issue, led me to new thought. He said I know you never had the time for the Great Books and yet I see you evolving right before my eyes! Who are your Teachers, he queried? I have had good ones, I said. And then I found later when he left our Earth, a Robert Nozick (from his book The Examined Life ) who postulated that we might be apprentices in the creation business. And in further reading, on a level we are not conscious of, we work the work that puts us directly in line for world creation. It is a way, and not the only way, to explain the numbers of planets circling our home base.

In reviewing the acts of my days, and being the parent on premise for three sons, it has been a life of creative being. Learning was great fun and in everything was a lesson. Upon the arrival of the painting which is now mine from our in law artist daughter, I was this mother of sons who lived in the fields and the woods and together we helped butterflies sing. It is a world of creational alliances, some of which I know we cannot be proud. But upon living the examined life, it becomes one of determined partnership with what we hold to be sacred to become lives cherished.

Dreamed Into Being

I love this Earth Planet, she said,
it is a place
of verdant lands
and high thoughts.

It is a place
where images send
these thoughts aloft and
tie me to that place of love.

We walked it many times
of course, she said,
but now the choice
is mine again. . . .

How to stay and finish
a work the Master said
was always needed even
by one such as me?

I hold the only authority
that counts.
No letters can give me
what is already mine.

I claimed it
on the day I said I Am
and chose to Be. . . . .
Simple as that and as hard.

I finish my work
and then go home,
to the ‘old country’
which holds for me, she said,

all that I cherish.
It is a dream I dreamed
and called into Being. . . .

for that is how new worlds are born.

Painting by Claudia Hallissey

June 26, 2015

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.
Thoughtful Responses

Because their responses to the question of who to take with you to answer your puzzling questions on this hero’s journey were succinct and well thought out, both Lois and Mark will have the chance to name their choice of rewards . So when they e mail me with their choices, I will be happy to get them into the mail as soon as possible.

As I have been told many times, because I give thought to these kinds of questions, it does not mean the rest of the world does.   There had always been a running argument with a very dear departed friend that this world was not to be taken personally. Life was simply to be gotten through the best means possible and enjoyed as much as one can.   I did not see the purpose of life not being taken personally. How does one do that I often asked. Simply, I was told, one just allows the unanswerable to run like water off a duck’s back.

It never worked that way with me. Not even as a child. Words held meaning for me and I cringed in my young heart when I heard arguing between my brothers, my favorite people.   I was always aware that arms would swing and someone would be hurt.   When feelings were thrown out into the air to be caught by someone with ill intent, I knew trouble resulted. How was one supposed to react to life on this Earth when emotions were the coin of the day? One had to deal with them and one had to react to make peace.

Her argument always was that you let these things pass and they are soon forgotten.   It did not work that way for me. I knew when arguments brewed that the past was always brought up to sting again.   So how to make this journey through life, this hero’s journey, to understand the so called slings and arrows, the ancestor’s anguish, the wars that make dust of yesterday’s masterpieces?   You take someone with you whom you honor and cherish and whose life you would like to mirror.   Then you pull every thought and action through your heart to see your response to be as more nearly like your hero’s.   After much practice you find that your response will be one of ‘judge not’ and you do the life giving thing. Because its opposite would be life taking.   It will be a divine response to life because that is the shining Spirit within each of us.   What we do for one, we do for all.   It is called Evolution.

It is a way to make a difference.

art by Claudia Hallissey

June 24, 2015

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.
Riding The Ethers

Riding The Ethers

We are what we are for if we understood what we could be we would take our show on the road as an example.

To push our ideals on another will only ostracize us from the love that struggles to make it to the finish line.

When love is not, nothing else is.

You cannot fix much when no one sees what is broken.

Is a eulogy the same as justification for a life?

Needing is not loving. They are not the same.

To change even one behavior pattern demands that all behavior patterns be changed. And many are not equal to the task.

Freedom of choice is a responsibility. It is also a sacrament.

The world speaks with a forked tongue.

There are those who close their eyes to what it is they see because they know what they see will contradict what they choose to believe.

The look of innocence is a state of shock. It is the place where the soul rests, the mind has stopped pursuing and spirit dares not delve deeper. It is where the rubber hits the road and burns.

June 22, 2015

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.
Your Highest and Best



Cover

Because I did not, due to lack of forethought, post the photos of the books, Kiss The Moon and The Last Bird Sings, and also the wall quilt which I will be offering, I do so today and hope that with the photos will come a few more comments.

For those of you who have been on the fence with your comments, I hope you do have a few moments today to put down some thoughts as to whom you would take as your guide or mentor as the standard you would gauge your thoughts and behavior.   The question probably should be, who in your history, whether fraternal or in cultural or religious history, would you like to be most like.   Who would be your standard as to your most perfect Being.   If you began your hero’s journey today, who would have the answers to the questions you would likely be struggling with.

Because I think this is an important question for all of us, I am extending the cut off date to Wednesday, the 24^th of June.   I think in our need to care for our planet, as well as ourselves, I think the question should be uppermost in our thinking.   Everything hinges on our improvement in all areas.   If the well being of our planet depends on our evolution into thinking and caring people, and never is their mass evolution, we must begin with ourselves. Each of us is important to the well being of everyone. We do not dismiss nor discount anyone.

June 21, 2015

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.
Papa, I Plead Now. . . . .

The Strange Bequest

There was a man,
a slim man,
whose head was bedecked
with a white cloud
and whose eyes saw dreams
he could not articulate.

He sat one day
staring into space
and when I questioned him, he said,
‘I am sitting and watching
the grass grow.’
I hesitated far too long
and have lived to regret it.

I wish the courage had been mine
to have asked him
to share his dreams with me.
For he bequeathed to me
a mind that does not rest.

I have the thought that his father
and father before him,
wrestled the same misty vision
which now is mine to set in motion.

I question this strange bequest,
for I have not
the staunch heart required
to lay to rest my ancestor’s anguish.

Papa, I plead now,
to replace my heart with hot ore,
inject me with a vial
of celestial courage
and fuse my spine with tempered steel.

There is so little time.

art by Claudia Hallissey

June 18, 2015

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.
Who Would You Choose and . . . . Why???

Who Would You Choose and . . . . . .Why??

When Dante did his pilgrimage in his well known Comedy, he took with him for his mentor, Virgil. Virgil was a philosopher and poet and were the reasons, partly, why he chose him as his companion.   And the reasons are interesting in themselves since Virgil on this very human journey with Dante reveals himself as not perfect.   Dante chooses Virgil for his very persuasive arguments between good and evil, character, honor, trust, all the very classic good things of Earth life.   Besides that persuasive voice convinces Dante that his reasons cannot be bested.

I am now throwing this question out to my readers.   If and when, (and we should because this is our journey and our purpose) you start out on your hero’s journey, who would you take as your mentor, your tour guide, your companion on this most important trip of your life? Whom have you admired as the Highest and Best in your thoughts, in your life, in what you have read that you would wish to take as your choice?   Who do you hold as your Highest and Best? ? This means you know this person as someone studied or chosen for reasons you hold sacred. When faced with a decision or obstacle, you would think of your mentor and say this is what he/she would do. And you care enough to emulate.

In fifty (50) words or less, comment this week and I will choose the most convincing of comments.   And of my choosing will be the reward of either of two books, Kiss the Moon, or The Last Bird Sings, or a small wall quilt.   The reward will be one of those three things.   And on June 22nd, I will announce the winner.   I look forward to this week.

I am hoping this will be enough for my younger readers to put on their thinking caps and give thought to this very important decision of their entire lives.   And to other readers immersed in this journey, whom have you chosen and why.   I look forward to your participation.   Let us give it a go.   And make a difference in this world.

photo of Dante by Wikipedia

June 14, 2015

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 They Believed

And They Believed

It has been said with anger
that I set the bar
too high
for mere mortals to scale.
It was not for them
the bar was set
but for me,
to rise as high
as the immanent god
had deemed for me.
I could not know
that they would try
to jump for me.
I was not the reason.
It was for them, you see,
for someone told them
they would never do it
and they believed.
I showed them though,
they could

and they surprised themselves.

photo by John Holmes

June 9, 2015

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 We Only Begin

When I wrote the post for my blog entitled ‘I Would Teach’ it was about how I came to the conclusion that the reasons for our lessons, if they can be called that, are logical consequences of our inadvertent or knowledgeable actions. And the underlying basis has Intelligence and that Intelligence evolves as our intelligence does but in greater leaps. Unimaginable leaps.   And whether we call this Intelligence God or Father or simply Life, it is the primary factor of all the Universes.

It sounds like a simple conclusion to come to but I included also what I call the most minute as well as the largest explosion of life, the God Participant.   For a more detailed explanation, the post can be brought up. But what I did not mention was that this conclusion with all of its ramifications has taken a lifetime to reach.   It doesn’t sound like much, but when a lifetime of steps are taken, literally the footwork done, and it is integrated, along with sifting and sorting all the dogma that has been shouldered throughout however many lifetimes, the footwork and head work is immense. A humungous work.   To do it while raising a family and living a life with its own responsibilities, is a difficult endeavor at best. It has stymied many a stronger and bolder human than me. Was it necessary? 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.   And it was a put up or shut up kind of overture.   If what I was taught and learned did not work where I was, it made little difference that it might work elsewhere. Heaven took me at my insistence and for most of this lifetime, I have been shepherded.   Everything teaches I was told. Everything. Including the heartbreak.

I have spoken of my Teachers in the previous weeks’ posts, and I thought in writing about this underlying intelligence of the universes, I would now include the response from them.   It has been a difficult thing for me to speak about, but since my years are less in front of me, I want my understanding of this cosmic experience to be voiced.   We have had lifetimes of science doctors giving their understanding about what is normal and what not; I wish for all of us to recognize 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 of gods.   We were long before the world ever was.

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

The Teachers Speak. . . .It is a good piece of work. Primary but in its substance of value some good thinking. You see where it is you come from. You see where it is that your thought springs and you cannot ever from this point on say that you don’t know from where it is you come.   You have at your fingertips the knowledge of what years of schools and instruction has stymied many a scientific mind. There will be those who scoff at the simplicity of this page but you know how many years went into its creation. 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, what we do know 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

June 7, 2015

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.