One Year Ago... Dad's Moment

It was, Monday last, one year ago that Dad left us physically. This week has been filled with the normal "stuff" of life... and even a special gift from Life... and through it all there has been the ever-present awareness of Dad. So, I share with you my recollections as written on that day... one year ago.

There have been many ‘false alarms’ over the course of the past week or so. ‘False’ to our limited awareness… but right on task in the controlled scheme of the I AM. We all (the attending family members keeping the vigil with Dad) were very much in need of the dissolution of the ominous presence of the ‘Unknowns’ associated with Dad’s departure. With each occurrence of “This is THE MOMENT” we all became more confident of and comfortable with our individual abilities to respond to life’s ultimate “Farewell.” Touching… weeping… singing… embracing… all became beautifully orchestrated to the theme of a common affection, devotion, and consummate love that found its expression gradually woven into a soft and comfortable fabric of shared intimacy in this … life’s moment of summary.

Thus, when the HOSPICE nurse gently summoned us into the family room in which Dad has spent his final days of earth occupation… we were able to respond with an ease and peace that gave freedom to realize the genuine quality of our individual relationships with Dad. With my sister Linda on the right side of Dad’s face, Mom on his left, myself and Dad’s twin brother, Uncle Joe next to Linda and Dad’s elder brother, Uncle Charlie next to Mom we ushered Dad to his next adventure to the sound of Mom’s gentle tears and Linda, Uncle Joe, and me singing the lovingly sweet and tender song written by Linda just for Dad’s Moment. To this accompaniment… Dad let go of his tired, ill, and weary body at 3:05 PM, Sunday, 05 March 2006.

My brothers Steven (who at Dad’s Moment was airborne on his way back to his wife and children in Missouri) and Tracy (who was in transit from attending to his responsibilities with his wife and daughter), with Mom, Linda, myself, Uncles Charlie and Joe… all would have each of you who have cared, loved, expressed, and demonstrated your support in these past days, to know that each of you is appreciated, loved in return, and not in any way forgotten in our hearts. I can assure you… each of you… that the theme of this moment is expressed in the old hymn “There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit in This Place.”

Uninformed PRESUMPTIONS

Pre-sume /verb/ suppose that something is the case on the basis of probability
[The New Oxford American Dictionary]

He went forward on the presumption that He had the necessary understanding of the situation to equip himself for success. The elderly gentleman (assumed to be the next-door neighbor) told him that after the locked door was overcome with the assistance of the ax offered by the gentleman for that task, He would encounter some resistance due to the rug that the occupant of the house customarily kept rolled up against the door as a deterrent to cold draught. And, indeed, after smashing the lock mechanism with said ax, He did, in fact, realize a firm, but yielding, resistance quite natural to a heavy rug. Hence, after persuading the rug to allow the opening of the door for a distance barely sufficient for his body to crawl through, he flattened himself to the floor and projected himself into the smoke-filled room and made his first attempt to evaluate the situation.

Having never before confronted a burning building, He was encouraged by the realization that the long ago learned (from sources not remembered) theory that there would be a space at floor level where the smoke would be eight or ten inches above the floor itself. And surely this was the reality that He encountered as into that narrow space He crawled and inched toward the room where He could clearly see the flames hungrily consuming every element and surface. This was the room that the neighbor had told him that the three children were normally in. Three small children who had been left by their mother who had gone for a quick visit to the store that was but around the corner. Three small children whose voices had been heard screaming for help just a short while before he had appeared upon the scene.

And now He was trying, through the acrid, oxygen-starved haze of that narrow corridor at floor level, to locate the children. Back out of the room He came to recharge his lungs with air. Choking, spitting, and coughing out disgusting remnants of that life-denying gas, He steeled himself for another entry. Again, He pushed past the rug-impaired opening and extended himself still further into the kitchen and toward what seemed to be the now fully consumed dining area of this small tinderbox of a dwelling. No luck… nothing… not a single child in sight and the heated chemical residue of all that the flames were converting into toxic gases scalded his eyes and his throat.

Back out, across the tiny deck that served as the back porch and into the small yard that was itself becoming engulfed in the stench of the fog of the fire. This time the neighbor was there with water (from some source that was not noticed) and offered to cool and wash his face. The water was gratefully accepted and used to wet his handkerchief, which He placed over his now-parched mouth and nose for his last foray into the hellhole of that inferno. He could only think of three small children who had not been heard from nor seen for what was beginning to seem like forever. Cursing the bulk of that damned rug for its bulky resistance, he pushed yet again into now known territory and this time beyond until his lungs demanded retreat. Failure! With the mucous of a pulmonary system ridding itself of intruding threats pouring from his mouth, his nose, and even his eyes, he heard the arrival of the fire fighters.

To the first Firefighter to come into the back yard (where he and the now still and silent ancient neighbor stood) he yelled the information that he presumed to be a statement of all pertinent facts. The Firefighter gave him a look that was a puzzlement to him though it lasted but a fraction of a second. Then, to his astonishment, this huge (or so he seemed clothed, as he was, in all of his fire-fighting equipment) fellow simply took a seat on that self-same tiny porch. The Man just sat there… “How absurd” He thought. He had just moments before used that surface as a launch area for entry into the chamber of unspeakable horror. “How can he be simply taking a seat and not doing anything?” He thought and wanted to scream.

Then… calmly… with measured deliberation… that Fireman leaned back, reached behind himself, around the still-open door, and, obviously (from the grimace of effort registered on his face) grasped that rug that had thrice been such an impediment to the would-be rescuer, and pulled forth not a rug… oh no… a small boy! Cradling the inert form in his arms and hurrying toward the waiting medical equipment at the front of the blazing structure, the professional Angel of Mercy looked at the pair of dumbstruck observers and said “The children always go to the nearest door… and that’s where we usually find them.”

He had gone past that child three times. He had presumed the bulky weight to be what he had been told to expect there. He had presumed that He had all of the information necessary to do his best for the best outcome. He was ignorant of unknown probabilities. It is now thirty-seven years later and He still feels… really senses the actual awareness of the soft, ungiving weight of that little boy’s body as he pushed against it. He had cursed it for its impediment to his efforts to reach the children. Every time He hears or sees a fire truck on its way to affect a rescue He instantly relives that moment. That boy would be somewhere around forty five years old now… but he is not. He never had a chance to be. And I… that’s right, I… will never stop regretting the presumptions that I made that day.

If there were no other reason for my efforts to share my perspectives… my ‘lessons learned’… my little insights into this business of life... the provision of an expanded set of possibilities for your consideration would be reason enough. I will do everything that I can to equip you with a wider understanding; a broader scope of outlook; an awareness of a more useful set of possibilities for your use in your entering into whatever areas of unknowns that present themselves to you. I can never accept the possibility that my reticence could leave you vulnerable to the pain, the unhappiness, the disappointment of missing the potential blessing of any experience… because your presumptions were left minus an expanded scope of possibilities that I could have offered you.

When I pledge myself to you as “Your Friend and Servant” (as I so frequently do) there is always, in my soul, an awareness of the weight of some ‘rug’ against which you may be pushing in your life. And I must help you see the life potentials that could be there if only you know where to reach… what to grasp… how to react.

To that end, I remain, as always, Your faithful Friend and willing Servant,

John-Michael
(originally penned 29July2005)



(IMAGEs: Through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com)

Enlightenment

Even in the most inhospitable of environs…
Where there is enlightenment, there is life.



IMAGE through the gracious courtesy of Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org

Another Scoop of Rum-Raisin Ice-Cream

I do not like Rum-raisin Ice-cream!

There, I’ve said it.

There is nothing more to say on the matter (yet you and I know that there will, most assuredly, be more said.)

You see, Dear Friend, I do not begrudge anyone else their preference for Rum-raisin Ice-cream. I hold no grudge against that flavor. There resides no bitterness in my soul toward the combination of elements that constitute that particular blend. I would never counsel anyone to disallow themselves the opportunity to sample that product nor would I undertake to undermine that dessert’s place in the universe of food products.

It is, quite simply, a fact that my own, personal, individual, particularly unique taste buds do not enjoy Rum-raisin Ice-cream. And that is perfectly all right, for there are myriad other choices offering themselves for my delight.

Yet... when my Friend, of many years, informed me that she is hesitant to allow herself to openly and publicly be my friend because of her children’s reservations about me, I was disappointed. My big old twenty stone (sounds so much better than the equivalent in pounds) of feelings got themselves hurt. Why? Because... (here is where I identify with Rum-Raisin Ice Cream)... I am who I am. She doesn’t understand why I can’t mitigate myself to accommodate the sensitivities of her children. “Aren’t you denying them the opportunity to know you by insisting on Being you?” she asked. “Why can’t you soften up your presentation of yourself?” “They think that you are being ‘phony’ because you come on so strong.”

“But who will they know if I present another image to them?” I queried. “Will the presentation of a ‘moderated’ me be an honest portrayal?” Yet my friend persisted in the idea that we must ‘respect’ other people’s ‘space’ by adopting behavior that accommodates their sensitivities.

I lived the first four decades of my life in the daily practice of ‘accommodation.’ I was never relaxed. Every encounter was a ‘performance’ for the benefit of, and to gain the acceptance of my ‘audience.’ Consequently, no one (including myself) knew me. I had no intimate relationships. There existed no place where I could go to, firstly, know who I was and, secondly, to be that person in comfort. The accepted social norm was that this was (and is) proper. I reject that norm (for myself.) I also embrace the consequences resulting from that rejection. One of those consequences is the reality that I will be (and am) sometimes rejected as a person. That too is absolutely OK. For my Dear Reader, Rum-raisin Ice-cream is not for everyone. But it is there for the individuals who have a preference for it. And the Friendships that I now enjoy I enjoy without reservation, in all of the intimate, passionate, and exuberant freedom that is ME.

Thank God for selections to choose from (for they (we) are, after all, His creations.)

And I am John-Michael [and… Who are you?]
(Original journal entry: Thursday, 29 July 2004)


IMAGE Through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com

Reconsider the Set of Your Sails...or Not

There are times, in life…
When it simply does not matter how much sail you put on.
Times when the best of navigational skills are for naught.
Times when destinations and goals are of no consequence.
It is in these times that the wise, prudent and seasoned sailor embraces the reality of the circumstance…
And commences scraping barnacles and mending lines.

For the time is always coming, when the tide returns…
Access to all potential possibilities is made available…
And our state of readiness will determine our satisfaction,
With the continuation of our Life Voyage.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven”
(Ecclesiastes 3:1)


IMAGE: Ian Denney, BBC

Appreciation and Respect

Having given much consideration to the conflicts in families, the discord between nations, the hostilities between Faiths, and the animosities between political factions... I have surmised the following:


We can never APPRECIATE... what we refuse to RESPECT



IMAGE: Sarah Prall, BBC News

The Gift of Tears

“Dad…Why do you always cry? You cry when you are happy and you cry when you are sad. Why?”

I knew that this was one of those rare moments when my concrete thinking daughter was open to an insight that could have long-lasting consequences in the development of her ability to relate to her feelings. I had best be brief, succinct, and accurate. “Please God” I silently prayed.

“I cry because I allow myself to feel… and tears are an important part of the feeling system. You see, Sweetheart, we were created with our hearts capable of feeling both joy and sadness. But our hearts can’t contain too much of either. So…we have a safety system that keeps our hearts from breaking if we feel too much of either sadness or joy. The extra comes out as tears. They can be happy tears or sad tears. But they both come out so that our hearts don’t have too much of either to hold. Because I permit myself to feel a lot… I have a lot of extra.”

Those with whom I have shared the first part of my emerging book Why I Am Here and You Are There, will know that I live my life in response to the leading of “The Master Gardener” as my “Still Small” inner voice speaks to my heart. Today I awoke with the recollection of the dialogue (with my daughter) that I just shared with you and an acute sense that there is someone, some “plant” in the “Master Gardener’s” care that is in need of the nurturing benefit of this little message of encouragement. In my capacity of “Minister of Manure” I am compelled, by previous commitment to the Master, to spread some of the “compost” of my past experience where preparation has been made and a receptive heart is readied. So, My Friend, whoever and wherever you are, here is the answer to your petition.

Go ahead… it is OK… allow yourself to feel… to embrace…to experience… to savor life as it is being presented to you at this very moment. Your heart will not break… tears will protect it from the hazard of too much (and the garden all around you will benefit from the watering of the excess of your courageous participation in the adventure at hand.) Live life… all of it…saving it is not an option… invest YOURSELF in living. And if tears are the result… let all (your children, your family, your friends) know that the tears are from a heart overflowing with the excess of living life.

Experience has taught me that the one for whom this insight is intended will recognize its merit. To that individual, whoever you are, I bid you joy, laughter, fulfillment, and peace.

(Note: Perhaps you are one of those who have complimented me with your reading of my little ideas for a while. If so, you might recall this piece. It was originally posted in April of 2006. I present it, again, for those who are newer readers. To all I say "Thank you for your kindness and generosity in sharing this moment with me.")

Immortal

Our Creator would never have made such lovely days,

and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought,

unless we were meant to be immortal.


Nathaniel Hawthorne


Images: Top, Alun Pughe; Center, Becky Reeves; Lower, Colleen Derry / BBC News

Connection-ships

OK… let’s stop thinking of them as “Relationships.” How about we look at what we really desire as “Connection-ships.” For, it seems to me, what works… what has dynamic power… what gives energy to its participants… what has lasting and staying potential… is a connection. We can “relate” to things seen through the window of our automobile as we whiz past. We can “relate” to illustrations, stories, sounds, and flavors. But in order to “connect” we must become intimately involved… we must become a participant in that with which we “connect.”

I think of couples and friends who have endured decades of life’s challenges, and the ones who come to mind share with each other a mysterious set of “connections” that have bonded them. This in spite of obvious absences of what we would define as commonalities (things in common) that would demonstrate any usual interests or points of relating. They simply seem to "connect!"

So, I say “let’s cast off all of that acquired baggage of perceptions and discriminations that have attached themselves to that Relationship concept." And explore the new and yet-undiscovered potentials that lie in the infinitely unlimited Connection-ships that are wrapped as gifts of promise in our Tomorrows.


IMAGE: BBC News

I Desire

When asked, recently, how I would express my heart’s desires to the Person who I thought had the potential to be “That Special Someone” in my life. I gave it thought… and, to Her, I would say this:

I desire…

to read poetry to you and watch your eyelids float to your cheeks in serene rest…

to listen to your breath and sense your peaceful comfort in my presence…

to awaken you with kisses lingering at every line, curve, shadow, and highlight of you from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head…

to greet each new day with the awareness that it is to be another together… you and I…

to listen to my spirit, in a moment of solitude, as it communes with your spirit… wherever you are…

to walk through Life’s gallery applauding, celebrating, and reveling in the beauty of all of Creation… knowing that Life’s masterwork is forever in the chamber of my heart…

to look heavenward and say, oft and joyously, “Thank You!”… at the thought of you…

for you to know, in every fibre of your existence, that in our now and in our forever... we are One in eternal intimacy.

This is what I desire.


IMAGEs through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com

A Valentine's Day Glance in the REAR-VIEW-MIRROR

As I slowly progressed through one of the busiest intersections in our community, I noticed the couple in a modest mid-sized sedan that turned the corner and took up position behind my car. There was something irregular about them. Curious, I watched them (in my Rear-View Mirror) as we drove slowly along. It was the most beautiful thing. These mature, and obviously well-ensconced in a long relationship, people were enjoying each others’ company. There was that air of “first-date” engagement in each other that was displayed in a quiet, comfortable, and completely natural way. I was so taken with their extraordinary harmony of inter-relating that I found myself enchanted. When it became evident that we were headed for the same grocery market, I decided to speak to them. As they parked and made their way to the store, I remained in my vehicle in a position that necessitated their passing.

“Please forgive my intrusion, My Friends” I spoke from my car’s window “but I could not help but notice the lovely inter-play between the two of you as you rode together in your car. Your obvious affection for and enjoyment of each other compels me to thank you both for encouraging my heart and making better the world that I live in. Bless you both.” I then returned their smiles and quick expression of thanks while slowly driving away (to reassure them that I did, indeed, respect their right to privacy and security.) I did not see them again until something around a year later.

On that occasion, I, again, looked into my rear-view mirror… and there they were. Now, mind you, there had, in the interim, been myriad faces in the view of that mirror. But these two… these among the certainly hundreds and possibly thousands that I had seen there… stood out like that well-clichéd lighthouse on the shore. And, as before, I could not let the opportunity to let them know that they had touched someone‘s heart pass. So, inasmuch as the traffic light had just turned red, I told my son (my passenger on the occasion... and well-accustomed to Dad's spontaneous expressions) that I would be back directly, and got out. Quickly moving to the driver’s window, I expressed my sentiments and turned to leave… whereupon, I heard the lady exclaim “Oh Dear… it’s the “BEING ME” (the license number that I chose for my vehicle) guy!” It pleased me that they recalled our earlier meeting as we exchanged farewells and I hurried back to my car.

So, what in all of this is of value to you at this reading? A few considerations. First… there are, sadly, so few in our world that share obviously healthy and openly dynamic relationships that they are easily spotted. Secondly… there is hope and encouragement to us all that there is possibility for just such a blessed union. Then, there is the encouragement, that I offer you, to pay attention to your own world… notice… care… involve yourself… speak the message that Life puts in your heart (lest you have one of those frustrating “I wish that I had” moments later.) Encourage! This is something that every one of us can do. And allow yourself to reflect on the You that is projected into that environment effected by you. Is there a joy within you that is obvious to your world? If “yes” I celebrate with you… If “no” you have my heart’s wish that you discover where that joy lies… and claim it!

No sermon here. Just an opportunity to consider. I bid you a Valentine's Day filled with joy and love.

Revisiting that Love Response

One of you asked me a question that I believe has remained unspoken by many who know me. I admire and respect this lady’s courage and candor in asking “So… are you truly in love with all your readers? Do you dislike anyone?” (Well!… the very nerve! [Yes I am kidding]) But the questions are very important ones and deserve more than a cursory response. So, here ‘tis.

First, my being “in love with all of (my) readers” is a matter of selective choice. I (just as you) have available to me the full range of possibilities for my response to the lives whose paths intersect mine. And I have made a conscious choice to make my “default setting” for my personal response to the world… LOVE. It really is that simple (as it must be for me to make it… for ‘complex’ gives me a headache. [teehee])

Yes… (to answer your intuitive question) I have most definitely been hurt… disappointed… abused… taken advantage of… misunderstood… misquoted… (need I go on?) by others in life. But my choice remains to have my initial response to others set on LOVE. And the rewards for that choice more than outweigh the total weight of all of the accumulated emotional scar-tissue from all of the unhappy occasions (and there have been PLENTY!) of my past. And PLEASE do not even begin to voice your “well, if you had ever experienced what happened to me” stuff. My “stuff” is as legitimate to my life as anyone else’s is to them. Stinko is Stinko in the nostrils of the individual doing the inhaling. (How’s that for a profundity?)

And what about… rejection? That is probably the biggest fear of all who would entertain the thought of venturing into the land of loving. OK… Yes I have had and still have my loving of others rejected. So what?! Rejection is a valid option for anyone’s election. I respect and easily allow the rejection of my love. I do, after all, offer my love as a gift… not as a preconditioned, expectation-bound, negotiated device. I give it… you are perfectly free to accept, reject, or even ignore the gift… it is, after all, yours to do with as you please. This is the nature of a gift. And the consummate beauty of this gift is that it is self-replenishing. The more that I give… the more is regenerated… FREE!

Second… the other (dislike anyone?) question… YES.

Ever-Present Beauty

Amidst all of the misery, mahem, inconvenience, and even danger of a fierce winter storm... BBC viewers found beauty to appreciate. I share the perspectives of two of them with you.

Louise Turner calls her "resident robin" a "cute wee fella" as he visits in North London.

Nigel Grace shares this scene of serenity found in the "Snow-covered countryside around Wendover in Buckinghamshire."

With my warmest regards to these two of our fellow pilgrims on today's life journey, I bid you, My Dear Reader, my fondest regards and kindest thoughts.


IMAGES: BBC News

YOU

Perhaps you have had the pleasure of a moment that, at the time, was so delightful that words to express your emotions escaped you. If so, you will understand the motivation behind what I share in this expression of a moment lived 29 September 1989 that I attempted to portray in the words of "YOU."

You

To have a kindred spirit… a like soul with whom I can loose the chains of my normally well-controlled performance…

To be able to rest in the assurance that my inner-most secrets and desires can express themselves in an environment of safe acceptance…

To enjoy the free expression of long-desired, waiting to be experienced, wishes and fantasies in concert with another who hears and shares…

Such is the time shared with you… such is the feeling… the reason for the joy… the source of the smile that has accompanied me all this day… ‘Inner Sunshine…’
You!


John-Michael/ 29 September 1989


IMAGE (of Torre del Lago, near Lucca, Italy) by Neil Jones, BBC

Love... Friendship

"Love is just friendship set to music."

E. Joseph Crossman


IMAGE: Alan Rengger, BBC