A New Awareness

So, My Dear Reader, here we are. The opening pages of a new chapter … in a book that has just closed the preceding chapters. Two thirds of the way through what we can reasonably expect to be our individual contribution to Life’s ongoing story. Mom was the last of the forgoing generation … and I (as the eldest of the next) stand in line for the present in succession to the role of most senior of our family.

There is an uncertainty to this position. Prior to Mom’s passing, last Tuesday (the 4th of January), there was an unrecognized barrier between me and the threshold of mortality. Even after Dad passed, in March of 2006, Mom’s presence kept me in the role of one of ‘the kids.’ That is now gone.

Though I was never before aware of it, I rested in the unacknowledged ‘safety’ of my parents as a natural buffer separating me from the altogether usual and natural happening of my own physical impermanence. The absence of that unconscious buffer has brought an unexpected set of neither unpleasant, nor uncomfortable, feelings and sensations.

Though no one will say it, I am now in the position of the “next in line” to go. My sister, Linda, at two years younger; my brothers, Steven, at eight years, and Tracy, seventeen years my junior, are logically expected to survive me. I am the “lead domino.” [silly grin] And I am aware of a whole new sense about life. I am actually engaged in a rather exhilarating moment. I feel really, really good. How’s that for weird? I know! Me too!

I don’t share this for any meaningful or purposeful reason … just to do as I have always tried to do … remain completely open and vulnerable to you, Dear Friend, for whatever benefit there may be in it for you.

I am working on a several bits of reflection that I will post when I have digested their individual ideas sufficiently to regurgitate them here. [smile]

‘Til then, I send my heart’s truest affection for You, Dear One, and thank you for your kind and generous companionship in my life. I do, truly, love You.

"The Human Touch" revisited

In this day of applied Programs, Plans, Initiatives, and Systems, there is a void that is all too often left wanting. That want is addressed by this work of Spencer Michael Free. He (from his perspective as a practicing physician) spoke to an elementary requirement of the Human Spirit.

In response to a sweet reminder of this post (thank you Maria), I ask that we consider the power and potential that awaits each of us… if we will but offer our own personal provision of “The Human Touch.”

The Human Touch

'Tis the human touch in this world that counts,
The touch of your hand and mine,
Which means far more to the fainting heart
Than shelter and bread and wine;
For shelter is gone when the night is o’er,
And bread lasts only for a day,
But the touch of the hand and the sound of the voice
Sing on in the soul alway.


Spencer Michael Free (1856-1938)
Free graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of the Johns Hopkins University in 1880, and practiced medicine and surgery for some fifty years thereafter. In addition to some one hundred medical papers, he wrote many poems.


IMAGE: Maria Brandstetter, BBC

Alone

Her sweet message read, “You are never alone,” and I accepted it in the generous spirit that it was intended. I am truly grateful for her intention that I know she is with me … though we have never shared physical space together. Yet, her words have had me replaying her message over and over for the past couple of months. And I am continually reminded that, if there is any one word that could define my life experience, it would, in fact, be “alone.”

I am recognized by many … known by a few … intimate with far fewer … and, ultimately, alone. This, for one whose core Being is inhabited by an eternal yearning for intimacy, is not a happy estate. Thusly, I have disciplined myself to live in a contented acceptance (no small feat,) and deal with the aloneness by willfully numbing my dominant senses.

Though I desire no more moments of this existence … I do succeed (most of the time) in creating happiness and even satisfaction in each day that is served up by Life. But, at the end of each of these days, I rest my head with no appetite for another.

I speak of this with no wish for any sort of response … however supportive or encouraging they may be in purpose or intent. But merely to convey the workings of my mind … that you may know me better. See … there I go again … doing that ‘intimate’ thing. [small smile]

Aristotle (pretty smart guy) on FRIENDSHIP

The ancients listed friendship among the highest of virtues. It was an essential element in the fully flourishing life. “For without friends,” Aristotle says, “no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.” Words worth remembering in a world of perishable “goods.”

According to Aristotle, friendship either is, or it involves, a state of Character, a Virtue. There are three kinds of friendship. These are based on pleasure in another’s company (friendships of Pleasure), or on usefulness in association (friendships of Utility), or on mutual admiration (friendships in Virtue). All are essential to the good life, and the best sorts of friends will not only admire each other’s excellence but take pleasure in each other’s company and find their association to be of mutual advantage. Here is a portion of Aristotle’s classic discussion.

From: The Nicomachean Ethics

"As the motives to friendship differ in kind, so do the respective feelings and Friendships. The species then of Friendship are three, in number equal to the objects of it, since in the line of each there may be “mutual affection ... mutually known.”

Now they who have Friendship for one another desire one another’s Good according to the motive of their Friendship; accordingly, they whose motive is Utility have no Friendship for one another really, but only insofar as some good arises to them from one another.

And they whose motive is Pleasure are in like case: I mean, they have Friendship for men of easy pleasantry, not because they are of a given character but because they are pleasant to themselves. So then, they whose motive to Friendship is Utility love their friends for what is good to themselves; they whose motive is Pleasure do so for what is pleasurable to themselves; that is to say, not insofar as the friend beloved is but insofar as he is useful or pleasurable. These Friendships are a matter of result; since the object is not beloved in that he is the man he is, but in that he furnishes advantage or pleasure, as the case may be.

Such Friendships are, of course, very liable to dissolution if the parties do not continue alike: I mean, that the others cease to have any Friendship for them when they are no longer pleasurable or useful. Now it is the nature of both pleasure and utility not to be permanent, but constantly varying: so, of course, when the motive which made them friends is vanished, the Friendship likewise dissolves; since it existed only relatively to those circumstances…

That then is perfect Friendship which subsists between those who are good and whose similarity consists in their goodness: for these wish one another’s good in similar ways; insofar as they are good (and good they are in themselves); and those are specially friends who wish good to their friends for their sakes, because they feel thus toward them on their own account and not as a mere matter of result; so the Friendship between these men continues to subsist so long as they are good; and goodness, we know, has a principle of permanence….

Rare it is probable Friendships of this kind will be, because men of this kind are rare. ... [ Note: With regard to the matter of 'rarity', it is worthy to note that, given the definitions of values inherent to Temperaments and Personality Styles (as identified by the “Myers/Briggs” methodology) those individuals given to the “Utility” and “Pleasure” motivations, as their most NATURAL and easily followed inclinations, make up approximately 85% of the general population. For these (the vast majority of the population) to seek the "Good" motivation requires some determined effort of Will.] ... Besides, all requisite qualifications being presupposed, there is further required time and intimacy: for, as the proverb says, men cannot know one another “till they have eaten the requisite quantity of salt together”; nor can they, in fact, admit one another to intimacy (much less be friends) till each has appeared to the other and been proved to be a fit object of Friendship. They who speedily commence an interchange of friendly actions may be said to wish to be friends, but they are not so unless they are also proper objects of Friendship and mutually known to be such: that is to say … a desire for Friendship may arise quickly but not Friendship itself."

_______________________________________

With the insights stated by Aristotle and restated countless times since then by innumerable others in various forms ... it should be clear to all that we do not all share the same hopes for, nor desires in, our friends. It is, then, my humble opinion that it might suite us better (and be far more fun), if we could celebrate the rare gifts in Friends that Life has given us; exercise the particular senses of 'taste' that satisfy our requirements for new friends; and avoid the easily available habit of condemning others for not living up to our unique set of expectations and/or qualifications for our "Friends."

I found ... in my personal quest to find a means for understanding (and accepting) the vagaries of those supposing to, at one moment, present themselves as Friend ... then assume themselves to be but passing Acquaintances ... that Dear Aristotle's observations were of great help. I offer them to You, Dear Reader and Friend, in the hope that your happiness and comfort will be similarly served.

Acceptance ... Respect ... Honor ... and Appreciation of each other - as we are - makes for a delightful world in which to celebrate the wonder of who we are. Just a thought ... [smile]


This item submitted with credit and thanks to the work of William J. Bennet in his "Virtues of Friendship and Loyalty." (A wonderful idea for a gift)

Romantic Lunch ... Sidewalk Cafe'

“If you could wave a magic wand toward here, in Ontario, from there, in Florida, and grant my fondest wish … I would wish for a romantic lunch at a sidewalk café … with You.”

These were her words to me over the telephone. We knew each other in only a strict business relationship. We had met in person on the one occasion that brought her, and her husband, to my city on holiday. They had come by my office in response to my offer of hospitality when she told me (in the course of our routine business transactions over the phone) that they would be in our area for their vacation.

I was so smitten with her grace and beauty that I locked an ironclad focus on her husband during the entirety of their visit. I knew that my overwhelming attraction to her would be unavoidably obvious to him if I allowed even the briefest of glances in her direction. The thirty minutes of their stay was excruciating. Upon her return to her post as a contact person between my office and the Head Office of our employing company, no mention was ever made of her visit.

Then, after the passing of several weeks with no reason for contact, I phoned the Head Office, in Ontario, to resolve a technical problem. I did not notice, when I placed the call, that it was the noon-hour, when the majority of staff could be expected to be taking their lunch break. After she answered her phone I apologized for the inconsiderate timing of my call, and offered to call back at a more convenient time. Whereupon she insisted that I stay on the line with the statement “No … please continue with this call. I haven’t any special plans for lunch today.” My response (hoping to demonstrate my appreciation for the generosity of her personal time given) was “If it were in my power, and if I had a magic wand with which to accomplish it, what special ‘lunch-wish’ could I grant you?” Then came her aforementioned reply.

I telephoned her later that afternoon (after scooping the scattered elements of my emotions into some semblance of order) and said “Please know that I live my life with the major part of me sealed in a vacuum. This is how I survive daily life. I must ask that you not toy with the seal on that vacuum, lest you be pulled into something that is far more powerful than anything that you might want to deal with.” This was the first time in my life that I had ever attempted verbalizing something that I was acutely aware of but had no definition for. She then indicated her desire to remove the ‘seal.’

Herein lies the importance of this story for you, Dear Reader. You, I, we all have unexpressed; yet vividly real feelings and convictions lying deep within the core of ourselves. These are far too frequently pushed aside, discounted, ignored, and even rejected outright because we haven't a comfortable or serviceable forum for the healthy consideration and honoring of them. I had not been introduced to the understandings available through “temperament” or “personality styles.” I had yet to be introduced to myself by the words of David Keirsey in his Please Understand Me II;

“Idealists are looking for more than life partners in their mates … they want soul partners, persons with whom they can bond in some special spiritual sense, sharing their complex inner lives and communicating intimately about what most concerns them: their feelings and their causes, their romantic fantasies and their ethical dilemmas, their inner division and their search for wholeness.”

And here I was, for the first time in my life, verbalizing (in the wholly inadequate, yet only terms at my disposal) the most powerful Force at the most central part of me. And I knew that the person who brought this recognition to the surface of my awareness was the single person in my world with whom I could be totally honest and unabashedly candid in the exposure of this aspect of Me. What a moment!


Note: This is an abbreviated excerpt from Chapter 5 of a book in progress.

How Real?

There is always the remote chance that someone reading my thoughts, or engaging me in a bit of a chat, focused on our responsibility to the Moment, will question "How Real" my actual practice of what I profess, might be.

I am sharing today's living demonstration of just such a happening. (Mind you ... I would never offer my personal response as any sort of 'standard' ... only my own individual choice of "Muse satisfaction." [smile])

'Twas upon seeing a very familiar name on a list of fellow graduates from my high School. Good ol' reliable Muse whispered her conspiratorial "Lest she never know!" And I clicked on the "Send Email" icon.

The message speaks for itself ...

Hi [name withheld],

It has taken these many years ... and Life 'nudging' me through Mom's reminding me of the instance (she was always very fond of you,[and knows how much I cared about you]) ... for me to muster the courage to confess what caused me to allow our budding relationship to wither.

Please know that I was totally enchanted with you. And on that night (that you have probably completely forgotten by now) when I was taking you home in our family car, I stopped and told you hurriedly that I had to "check on the strange noise coming from the rear of the car." What I did not then ... and it has taken 'til now to ... have the courage to tell you, was that I had an undiagnosed problem with my bladder. I, in fact, had to frantically get out of the car and hide behind the open trunk, to deal with the fact that my bladder had failed me. Yep! I wet myself. Hence, when I got you home, I could not get out of the car and walk you to the door. My pants were wet. (Believe me, this is still painful to recall.) I was humiliated beyond words.

When I heard later that you Dad forbade you to see me again because of my demonstration of poor manners and disrespect, I was despondent. But it was too much for me to speak of. Even after the doctor diagnosed what he called "spastic colon", and remedied the temporary condition with some pills, I could not overcome my humiliation, and sorrow, to tell you how devastated I was at the loss of whatever our relationship may have held the promise of being (and have revisited that loss with remorse many times since.) I was truly in love with you. There! At long last, I have told you.

I have lived, for a long time, with the guiding life-navigating star of "if it holds the possibility of ever being an 'I wish I had' ... do not let the moment pass without doing or saying whatever holds that potential." If I had not let you know the truth about that miserable night ... it would forever remain an "I wish I had."

I truly hope that this strange and unusual note finds you basking in the fullest of this Christmas Season's joy and happiness. I remain, forever, your admiring Friend and Servant,

John-Michael

There ... now You, Dear Reader, know that I do (even in the most awkward and challenging of circumstance) honor my Spirit's claim on me. As bizarre and odd as this example may seem, (and I know that you cringed [with me] as you read it) I cannot deny Life's claim on me. Responsibility to the demand of the Gift of each moment is what drives me on. And I promise You that it is a joyfully satisfying and fulfilling path to follow.

Just listen ... then trust the result or response to the omniscient power of Life's unfailing Love. It NEVER blunders.

I love You.

"The Human Touch" revisited

In this day of applied Programs, Plans, Initiatives, and Systems, there is a void that is all too often left wanting. That want is addressed by this work of Spencer Michael Free. He (from his perspective as a practicing physician) spoke to an elementary requirement of the Human Spirit. I ask that we consider the power and potential that awaits each of us… if we will but offer our own personal provision of “The Human Touch.”

The Human Touch

'Tis the human touch in this world that counts,

The touch of your hand and mine,

Which means far more to the fainting heart

Than shelter and bread and wine;

For shelter is gone when the night is o’er,

And bread lasts only for a day,

But the touch of the hand and the sound of the voice

Sing on in the soul alway.


Spencer Michael Free (1856-1938)
Free graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of the Johns Hopkins University in 1880, and practiced medicine and surgery for some fifty years thereafter. In addition to some one hundred medical papers, he wrote many poems.


IMAGE: Maria Brandstetter, BBC

'Tis Art

Residing quietly within, is an appetite … a still, unassuming, yet ever-present, desire.

Its Voice is but a whisper … and it always defers to the demanding dominance of present circumstance.

I hear it whilst in the quiet of a gallery, or concert hall … when all of Today’s impositions are distanced.

It is there, in the Sanctuary of Silence, that the gentlest of murmurings is heard.

There … in the dramatic (and sometimes tender) release of those brushstrokes …
the melding and blending of Images; that stirring scene …

In the sonorous connection made with that particular harmony, rhythm, or lyric …

that contact is made with my Core.

It is in the Freedom found, in these experiences of connection, that my Soul’s private hungers find satisfaction … and my long spiritual droughts are sated.

‘Tis no less true when I read a word or phrase that echoes the cry of my very Being.

The Author or Composer has said what I yearn to express.

This awakens and fulfills the Wholeness of who I am.

I am delighted, beyond words, to, again, be with You, My Dearest Friend and Faithfully patient Reader. By the generous grace, and loving thoughtfulness of my Brother, Steven (who purchased and sent to me the new netbook computer that I now write upon), I can now revisit you and celebrate our sweet bonds.

I, simultaneously, celebrate this ... my 600th posting on my blog. Whoopee!!

I do love You so!

Morning Concert

I return to this tiny bit of reflection ... because I like the way that it makes me feel. Not a complicated formula for deciding ... and one that I smile at the consideration of. This post constitutes the 599th time that I have shared a posting with You, My ever-enduring Friend and Reader. (Next posting will be number 600 ... amazing!)

With the close of this day, I will be leaving the comforts of my Friends' lovely home, and returning to the far-less accommodating elements of my own dwelling place.

Many Folk take a holiday from their usual, and normal environment and go camping. I, in essence, camp all through the year. These past few days have constituted my holiday from the primitive style of my usual circumstances. I have luxuriated in hot running water ... a kitchen with full compliment of appliances for convenient cooking (AND a sink with running water ... RIGHT THERE! Cool!) I have enjoyed the accommodating convenience of a flushing toilet; windows with a wonderful view, in addition to the brilliance of sunlight; and NO traffic noise!! Wow! (My Place is situated on one of the busiest roadways in the county.) AND ... I have had the facility of a working computer. Hence, my communication with You, of late. And, as if all of that were not far more than enough ... my Darling Friends welcomed me to the use of their sweet little Honda Civic (and even left a gift card for gas!) [smile]

Yes indeed! This has been sweet!!

I do not know when I will be able to speak with You again. You can be sure that you will be actively occupying all of those wonderful places that are yours, in my Heart. When I can again access a computer, I will be back to you. Be certain of that! [loving smile]

All that said ... her is that little Bit that I spoke of earlier. I hope that it makes You, Dear One, feel good too.

I love You.

Morning Concert

The tacet eloquence of your eyes,

The gentle melody of your smile,

The tranquil harmonies of your spirit,

Orchestrate to greet me with …

A morning concert of ... YOU.

John-Michael

(29 October 04)

(revised 10 August 2009)

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

Lookie Who's Here!

Well, Hi there! ... my Darling Friend. [smile] It has been a little while since I have been able to be here with You. As my Precious Lime has been kind enough to let you know, my computer has gone to whatever place in Torment that is reserved for mechanisms that vex and test the character of those who rely on them.

So, Dear One, I speak with You from a physical Place that is some 30 minutes from my home. I am caring for Henry (one BIG baby of a pit-bull dog), and Billy (one devious, lightening quick, and totally cuddleable cat) at the home that they share with my Dear Friends, Dav and Heather (who are away for a couple of weeks ... in Iceland [Dav's homeland].) They graciously invited me to use their fancy-schmancy computer and to enjoy the tranquility of their lovely home whilst they are away. So here (as pictured) I am ... having my morning coffee and allowing the serenity of the view to do its work. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

If I may, I will be sharing, with You, my journal notes made whilst revisiting the Place of some of my most precious Beginnings ... the words of Joseph Campbell, as recorded by Bill Moyers, in The Power of Myth.

Sunday, 02 Aug 09

You and I ... we all respond to the symphony of Creation ...the undulations of nudging Influences.

Some choose to respond by situating themselves in a comfortable place that affords little jostling or engagement. Perhaps just letting the occasional "tapping" of their "emotional toe" suffices as a means of acknowledging Life's underlying "soundtrack."

Others of us welcome the music of The Intimate, and permit it to be demonstrated through our very Being ... some in ritualized formalities of ordered and structured "ball-room steps" ... elegant and inspiring ... while some lean to the interpretive forms of expression that give free-spirited declaration of their inspirations. And there are (of course) all manner and degree of varieties between and around those extremes.

What is universally unavoidable is ... response. Maybe hardened entrenchment in a marching cadence that unwaveringly dictates each daily decision, direction, and debate. Or, perhaps, some primal and unstructured willingness to follow the lead of The Muse's faint whisperings ... accompanied by the insistent throbbing of a muted "drum." But, in whatever way, and to whatever extreme of perceived "music", each and all of us do make those choices ... we all respond in some way. Life does not permit deafness to its summoning symphony.

Monday, 03 Aug 09

I am, forever, indebted to Joseph Campbell for his redirecting of my Spirit's focus ... from its earlier search for life's meaning ... to its present search for the complete experience of living life.

I never was satisfied with sticking labels of social, religious, or political propriety on containerized pieces of my life. It has always been my desire to know and savour the content and quality of each Moment's experience ... with complete disregard for the labels that those around me would want to affix.

Content ... not Image ... has always been my thirst. When engaging in the presentation of an image, or parading a role, it was always for the purpose of gaining access to that treasured Place of comfort and welcome, that would allow an intimate and meaningful exchange. I discount the playing of a role, and/or presentation of an image, as "dues to be paid" for admission to that sacred place of intimate Being.

Making Love to Life

A dear Friend, Ray, an elderly gentleman who I noticed as he walked silently by (week after week… going about his business in a dignified, stately, and private manner), made an impression on my Spirit, with the beauty of his Spirit. “Please forgive my intrusion, My Friend” I said with a hand raised in a ‘please stop’ gesture, “but I am compelled to tell you that your eyes, your comportment, the very countenance of you, all speak together to say that the Man behind all is a man of worthy and noble character. I want you to know that your regular passing of this spot, where I sit, has blessed me, and made my world a better place, for your Presence in it.”


Ray (being a very shy and introverted man) blushed with this extremely out-of –the-ordinary declaration and thanked me. “You are quite welcome” was my simple reply and I immediately returned my attention to the work that was before me, so that he would feel no requirement for further engagement. This “sense it, say it, leave it” (my words…not his) methodology, was gleaned from the teachings of Leo Buscaglia, a Teacher, Lecturer, and Motivator of the mid-to-late 1900’s. The key elements, as taught by him, were to ask (and by the asking make clear your respect for and appreciation of the ‘space’ of the other) for “forgiveness for the intrusion.” Then, after your message has been stated, remove yourself straightway to make clear the absence of any hidden agenda ... thereby giving a complete sense of safety, to the Individual upon whom you have just intruded.


Ray and I, over time, became quite good Friends. And it was on one of our more lengthy visits (which, with Ray, were hardly more than fifteen minutes… [for him constituting something of a marathon of dialog]) that he and I had the following exchange. “John-Michael, I have to tell you that I envy the frequent and varied relationships that you seem to enjoy. I am so shy and retiring that I could never be as open and free with myself as you are. It is clear that you do genuinely love all of these people with whom I see you interacting and they, you, in return. That is something that I must say that I do envy.” “Ray, My Dear Friend," I replied "I make love to all of the world around me every moment of every day. But, Ray, you speak of the glory and warmth of your relationship with your wife, who you clearly adore, and by your comments, make clear, to any observer, the fact that she participates equally in her adoration of you. You go home, after witnessing my daily love-fest with Life, to her ... and immerse yourself in the totality of that love. I go home alone. Ray… I envy you.” We exchanged understanding smiles.


“Making love to Life” is the most accurate portrayal of my living. Intimate engagement in the most compelling of life’s elements … the core of Life (for want of a better term) … is the level at which I sense, acknowledge, and respond to my World. I take no notice of roles or titles for I have played many roles in business, religion, society, and family … and have done so wearing the many varied ‘hats’ appropriate to the roles (and did it all quite well and even to the laudation of each relevant world). And, in the doing, I learned the temporal nature of such things … passing; for the moment; and then to be gone as though never there. But Love, whether revealed in unspoken, distant appreciation or intimate exchange for the briefest, or more prolonged, engagement … is forever.


I am simultaneously saddened, and challenged, by the climate of today’s social, political, religious, and cultural atmosphere. Anger, vehemence, criticism, castigation, condemnation, confrontation, and refusal to respect, appreciate, or even consider the perspective of another, is the comfortably accepted norm. I simply cannot participate in (what I consider to be) this sickness. The twisting of the Soul of a participant is the price-tag for involvement that I would rescue all within my domain from paying. I have chosen to demonstrate the satisfactions, joys, happiness, and comfort of embracing others in the exercise of admiration, recognition, appreciation, adulation, and yes, even love.


This choice of behavior is not without pitfalls. I have found no models after which I may follow. There are, to my knowledge, no systems for the practice of such behavior that would have all potential misunderstandings and miscues worked out. I, therefore, find myself blazing a new trail with all of the elements of risk and even danger befitting such an adventure. But the quest is far and away worth the scrapes and bruises encountered along the way. I can endure the passing looks of skepticism, doubt, uncertainty, and even rejection encountered (thankfully ... with extreme rarity) amongst the more frequent and almost constant smiles of appreciation, satisfaction, enjoyment, and even surprised delight that my behavior evokes. This is “making love to my world” as I am called by the conviction of my Heart to practice it.


(originally penned, 2004)

Please accept my invitation to spend a few moments with some Friends who express my convictions ... in their own, beautiful, way ...

Peace Through Music Film Clip: Playing for Change from Playing For Change on Vimeo.

I do Love You, my Dear Friend ... and thank You for sharing these moments with Me.



IMAGES: Through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com

Cozy Lair

Shhhhh! 'Tis best that we but whisper,
in this newly discovered place.
This place of organic fragrances,
that speak of seasons past.
A place that embraces and invites us ...
To huddle in quiet peacefulness.

Secrecy must be maintained …
lest this nest of privacy be spoiled.
So, My Dear, let us burrow into the warmth,
of these secluded surroundings.
And allow all, that is without, to pass us by …
unaware of our Cozy Lair.

IMAGE: Samantha Hill, BBC News

Life's Hidden Streams ... Shared

As I listened to Philip Glass speak (during a PBS presentation of the American Masters Series), of Music as being an ever-present River, that flows beneath our feet … awaiting our willingness to listen … I enjoyed an Awareness of a personal relationship to the Image.

It was in the year 1967, and I (as a 21 year-old new recruit to the Field-Engineering Department, of our local Electric Utility Company), was being introduced to some of the rudiments of our Department’s responsibilities. The Man, taking on this orientation, was a Gentleman who I would come to admire, respect, and, indeed, love, as a Friend, as well as my new Boss. We drove into a housing development under construction … stopped at a freshly paved intersection, amongst bare Lots awaiting their homes-to-be … and alighted from our vehicle.

Lloyd S. Wood (the afore-mentioned ‘Boss’), described how we were to place a wooden stake into the earth, in the exact spot that a construction crew was to install a power pole. He then did something that has stayed with me all of these ensuing years. He removed two lengths of ordinary, copper wire, from the trunk of the car … bent each into an “L” shape … held each in a manner that extended the longer portion of the “L” out in front of him … and commenced walking toward the edge of the right-of-way. The wires began moving. They crossed, into a perfect “X.” Then as he progressed … they returned to their original “straight ahead” placement … all by themselves. Lloyd backed up a step or two. The wires, again, crossed … and then resumed their “straight ahead” pointing, as he proceeded backward. He then turned and said, “Where the wires crossed, is where there are underground pipes or cables. We want to be sure to place the stake, that we drive into the earth, far enough from that “X” point, to ensure that the Crew, drilling the hole for the Pole, will not drill into the buried Utility Cables or Pipes. I was mesmerized.

He then gave the two wires to me, and instructed me in the manner in which they were to be held … I walked (in the same manner that I had just seen him walk) … and ‘Lo and Behold!,’ I experienced the exact same result. On our trip back to the Office, Lloyd told me how he had used that method to locate the best spot for drilling a Well for supplying his home with water. He told me how he had struck an underground stream (located by the “X” method) on the Well-Driller’s first try. “Best water in the neighborhood!” he proudly declared.

Some years later, whilst at an evening’s gathering of Friends, I posed a question, as to the reasons for the “wire crossing” phenomenon, to one of our group. With him being a Engineer (working in the field of nuclear power plant design) I assumed that his training, and education, would equip him to be able to tell me how, and why, it happened. To my surprise, he challenged me with an “Impossible!” declaration. As You can imagine, I asked our host for two, wire, coat-hangers … formed the requisite “L”’s … led a Parade, of all of the attending males, into our Host’s front yard … and … TaaDaa! … demonstrated the location of the buried water pipe, sewer line, and telephone cable. All of these were confirmed by our Host.

This Groups ultimate refusal to allow the simple Reality of what they had experienced with those silly little wires, was brought back to mind when I read of Anthony Campolo’s colleagues’ dismissal of an experience that he related to them. Here they were, hearing from the lips of a renowned Scholar, Scientist, Academician, Teacher, and Peer, the story of his encounter with spiritual happenings, demonstrating a direct influence on the physiological, and totally tangible, Being of a young lad … and they couldn’t bring themselves to accept any of what was offered. Instead, they, as a group, declared that what Campolo had presented was “outside of the bounds of accepted Doctrinal Parameters.” It was Doctor Campolo’s suggestion that perhaps, they might (inasmuch as they all were part of a Body of Scholars, Learners, and Intellectuals, who not only spent their lives teaching and instructing young minds in their particular theological themes … but were intelligent and learned Individuals as well), consider modifying the defining borders of their respective “Boxes of Theological and Doctrinal Parameters, to include irrefutable Truths demonstrated and given in Evidence as newly presented Facts.” Alas, they simply could not (or would not) subject themselves to such an uncomfortable proposition.

While I do, genuinely, respect and accept the rights of All to elect their own modes of Being, I have embraced, as my personal choice, a sense of responsibility, for making available whatever little Insights, Thoughts, Experiences, or Ideas I have been privileged to discover … my life’s particular little Streams of unseen, but genuinely validated, aspects of Life. In so doing, I allow each Individual, whose path in life intersects with mine, the lovely freedom of choice. It is my conviction that a fuller life-experience can be enjoyed if (as is true with any buffet-presentation of a variety of choices), One knows the opportunity to sample, try, test, or “taste” from as inclusive a selection of options as possible. Hence, in Philips Glass’s terms, I offer my Awareness of underlying streams of Love, Respect, Intimacy, Engagement, and whatever other elements of living I find … to all who welcome me.

Just as the Engineer, and the Others in the that evening's group, chose to dismiss the Reality of those crossed bits of wire … I know (from many years and encounters) that there are many who prefer the solid, certain, and easily defined “Ground” of a dry, barren, and unfriendly life-path, over the option of an embraced awareness of what are the undefined, uncertain, uncontrollable, and freely flowing streams of cooling, refreshing, invigorating Affections, Involvements, and, yes, even Vulnerabilities, that flow beneath their feet, in their walk through life. I have validated the legitimacy of differing temperaments and personalities that are threatened and made uneasy with such considerations … so I lovingly respect their election to assume a place of comfort, that disallows any Threat (present in those unfamiliar aspects of life) that would “destabilize” their chosen world of awareness. But I do take every opportunity to give everyone the choices.

So, My Darling Reader, I find myself following in the lovely steps of Lloyd S. Wood, Philip Glass, Anthony Campolo, Ann Kiemel, Joseph Campbell, Leo Buscaglia, and many Others who have touched my Life, inspired my Spirit, stimulated my Mind, engaged my Soul, and made better my Days … by excitedly and enthusiastically pointing out both the tiny trickles of Truth and Beauty; and surging Rivers of Present, and Eternal Truths and Realities ... each, and all, making my personal Walk richer and more delightful every day. I do hope that You too, will share Life’s Treasures with all who bless your pilgrimage … and with me as well!

[loving smile]

(PS … Because of my love, and appreciation, of Who he is … I phoned Lloyd Wood, a few days ago, to let him know how I feel about him and his effect on my Being. He is doing well … has retired from the Engineering field … is now ninety years of age … and still commands his indomitable wit, and gracious hospitality of Spirit. I promised him a copy of this bit of reflection … and will mail the same to his Love and Pride … his Daughter. I want her to know of how yet-another ripple, of her Daddy’s Influence, has touched Another in Life’s pond.)

In Little, Tiny, Ways

I received, so very long ago, a plea from a Friend who was burdened and feeling overwhelmed by the immensity of Mankind’s currently demonstrated disregard for others. The meanness, cruelty, and abuse reflected in the news was discouraging her heart. “What hope is there? How can we make any difference?” her wounded spirit cried. So, today, I offer these two snippets, from my own past, as demonstration of some simple, easy, and readily available ways, in which we can reach out to the world that lives so closely with us.

My sensitivity, to this matter of Opportunities, in my immediate Personal World, came into play that day that I entered an elevator, in one of the up-scale office towers, in the mid-town business district. There amid an assembled group of up-and-coming ‘corporate wannabes’ was an elderly gentleman of very slight physical stature who (in contrast to the group of “G.Q. - Trendies" parading their fine “haberdasherie") was quite obviously “off the rack.” It was immediately obvious that the man was more than a little uncomfortable in these surroundings, and I was acutely aware of his discomfort. To add to the dynamic, the group around him were all much taller than he and looked down at him with more than just a physical air of disdain.

“Please forgive my intrusion, my friend” I began, (I love the gift, of this means of introduction … [Thank you Leo Buscaglia]) “but, if you will allow my intrusion, you are only one small adjustment from being perfectly tailored.” I then reached over without a moment’s hesitation and (as though I did this sort of thing as a routine matter) turned down the standing collar, on the back of the neck, of his (what was, in all likelihood, 'Sunday and Funeral intended') suit. After smoothing the wrinkles away, I declared “There you are Sir, quite dapper. And, if I may say so myself, perfectly ready to enjoy your lunch.” (For the elevator was on its way to the top-floor (Private Club [which, no doubt, added to his discomfort]) Restaurant.) The Gentleman looked up at me and said (to the accompaniment of the warmest and most gentle eyes imaginable) “You are from around here, aren’t you?” Knowing that he was trying to communicate, a felt sense of community, with me, I responded “Yes sir, you and I are a couple of Local Folk, and I am happy to know you.” He responded with a smile, and as he exited the elevator (exuding a newly-found sense of confidence and belonging) bade me a "good day." And it was, indeed, a good day.

In that same building, there was (across the opulent atrium, and at the top of the expansive bank of entrance escalators) a desk, for the use of the building’s Concierge. At this desk a young woman fulfilled the role of attending to the needs (some real, but far too many supposed) of all coming to that place to conduct business. Day after day I had observed this young Woman, as she greeted each passing person, with a genuine smile, that never wavered, nor faltered, no matter the lateness of the hour, or the crush of the masses.

Many were the times when I exited that 'conveyor belt' of Humanity to have my spirits lifted by her gracious “Hello.” Then, one day, for no particular reason, that I can now recall, that 'Little Voice' (within my spirit) said “She needs encouragement today.” No further discussion was required.

To the Floral Shop (around the corner from the Concierge Desk) I went. Having secured a small bouquet, I attached a Card, upon which I wrote a note, expressing my appreciation for her uplifting, and encouraging contributions, to my daily work life, and with a “Please forgive my intrusion” I delivered it to her and promptly took my leave. I have no idea what matters she was dealing with that day. There could have been any of innumerable difficulties that she was confronting, or none at all. The point is that none of that was my business. Mine was only the responsibility (to that Power that spoke to me) to reach out, in love ... in a caring, human, but unassuming manner. Herein lies the core of my addressing the World made available to me, with my own, intimate, and honest, Personal Voice ... as I have discovered it ... and learned to use it.

In any number of the smallest of ways, You ... and I ... and Love ... can change our world. You just wait. Just watch. You will see. We can do this thing! (And it is so much fun in the doing!) [Loving, Encouraging Smile]


IMAGES: Through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com

What Do You Want?

I was , a while ago, asked by a new friend (as she she sought to discover just who I am), "What do you want?" 'Twas a very fair and honorable question. In fact, a question that recommend, to You, Dear Reader, as a comforting and refreshing exercise ... this asking of your Self, "What do I want?" To my Inquisitor, I responded with an Email, containing the little summary, that I now share, with you.

I share it with you, because it occurs to me, that we could have a delightful time, allowing ourselves to get to know ourselves better ... and enjoy, and thereby, ourselves even better ... if we were to candidly examine our first "knee-jerk" reactions, to that very fundamental question.

Because I have found that by listening to someone else, discussing their inner inclinations and appetites, I become easily engaged in reflections of my own ... I submit my bit of a response ... and encourage you to do what I did, that morning. Perhaps, you will feel inclined to make some mental note of, or jot down, your own spirit's reflexive responses, to the question.

Hence, ... what I want is ...

INTIMACY ... in thoughts, ideas, conversation, feelings, and shared activities.

CHILDREN ... Their sounds, curiosity, silliness, struggles, laughter, and hugs. To know their sense of security and comfort in the bosom of my presence and care.

TOUCHING ... Fingertips, arms, face, neck ... freely, often, comfortably, gently, appreciatively, and spontaneously.

KNOWING SMILES ... Private, quiet, random, filled with meaning and fun, lingering and savored.

UNBOUNDED ACCEPTANCE ... All inclusive.

MUTUAL ADORATION

KINDNESS

And as the song goes ... "These are a few of my favorite things."

"When We Meet" (by request)

When We Meet

I’ll not meet you side the highway,
Nor in the halls of commerce,
Where serenity and quiet,
Have no home … nor can be found.

I’ll reserve for us a table,
With a window on the Bayside.
Softly draped, with cloth of linen,
Weaved by noble Peasant hand.

We will sup with wine by locals.
Label known not to the merchant.
We will dine on fare from labours,
Of attentive, gentle care.

We'll be slow about our speaking.
Of each other we are learning.
Of each other are becoming,
More as One ... no more, the Twain.

We are learning, and accepting,
All that is our inner Beings.
All within us … all that makes us …
All defining who we are.

Can we cling to, save, this moment?
Can we hold it to our bosom?
Will it nurture and uphold us?
When our outside worlds, we face?

‘Tis most certain that we cannot.
For life’s swirling all about us.
This, the fledgling bond between us …
Life would pull and tear apart.

So please meet me, ere you wander,
In your busy life and duty,
At our table … by that window.
Where our Union knits, once more.


John-Michael
25 February 2008
Revised & Retitled 3 May 2009

I Fancy Romance

How very unfortunate, it is, that we have neglected the common use of the word “fancy.” For, My Dear Reader, it bespeaks a depth of meaning not known to other, more superficial, terms. The Oxford Thesaurus offers these … 1. “1 wish for, want, desire; long for, yearn for, crave, have a yearning/craving for, hanker after, hunger for, thirst for, sigh for, pine for, dream of, covet.” 2. “Be attracted to, find attractive, be captivated by, be infatuated with, be taken with, desire, admire; lust after, burn for; informal have taken a shine to, have a crush on, have the hots for, be wild/mad/crazy about, have a thing about, have a pash on, have a soft spot for, be soft on, have eyes for, carry a torch for, go for, lech after/over.” There now! (Do you think that I've belaboured that enough?) [smile] ‘Leaves little room for doubt … no?

So, Dear Friend, when I tell you that I “fancied” that 1932 Pierce Arrow EDL (Enclosed Drive Limousine), you can know, beyond doubt, that what I am expressing is Something that is of substance. Something that is of the nature of, what we might usually consider to be, romantic. And that is very close to getting us there. For, don’t you see, I have had this lingering Fancy for, nigh on to, forty-three years now … since 1966, when I was a strapping twenty-year-old Installer/Repairman for the Telephone Company, and She was a thirty-four-year-old Automotive Goddess. Yes! I fancied an “Older Woman.”


I have absolutely no recollection of why I was dispatched to the home of that regal Lady of quiet Southern charm and dignified Presence. I know not what inclined her to invite me out to the barn that had stood on that lakeside orange grove site for many a decade. But I DO remember, with distinct clarity, the impact of seeing that elegant Vision upon entering the barn. I was breathless! She bespoke a Romance that was the imagery of an age of Romance. If there had only been, just, her radiator cap alone … it would have been enough. Sure! It performed a utilitarian function. But, my-oh-my! The figure of that Archer pointing the way into an adventure ahead, was mesmerizing! It bespoke an entirely different Time of fantasies, dreams, hopeful idealisms, and fanciful pursuits. No cold, impersonal, corporate logo this! Oh no! We are talking Art here. Then my Hostess opened the back door!


I am captivated by the musty aroma, of long-enclosed woolen fabric, even as I form these words. In the heavy, Florida-humidity-laden, air, I was enveloped in a cloud of dry, musty, splendor. I still see that fold-down footrest, that my Guide demonstrated, for my edification. The rich fabrics and tailored upholsteries. We are not talking about those garish, slick, shiny interiors of rolling chambers, for gaudy showiness, as known in today's faux-limousines. Oh no! We are quietly speaking of intimate, cozy, and entirely-private nests of comfortable encapsulation. Here … see for yourself …


Nearly thirty years later, I was chatting, with one of our senior State Senators, and we spoke of his home, and neighbors. “I once did, some sort of, telephone service work, for your Neighbor.” I told him. And I described the Lady, her property, barn, and The Chariot. The Senator did recall the Neighbor Lady, her barn, her Son (who was enlisted in the Navy at the time of my visit) … but knew nothing of the Pierce Arrow, nor, of course, of the Lady’s plan to keep the Limousine in pristine condition, for her Son’s claiming, upon his discharge from military service. I, clearly, recalled it all. For, don’t you see, I was smitten! I ‘fancied’ that regal visage of long-lost Times and Tastes. Still do!

That … Dear Friend … is "Romance!" [smile]

What ... Who

I listen, and reflect back what I hear,
in all that you are brave enough to reveal.

I provide, no classification System,
or Labels … no Judgments.

But an open and receptive Space,
that welcomes You … all of Who You are.

That we may share in what you have been afraid
to know … including those secret Treasures.

I provide, for us, a Place that knows
neither Alien nor Enemy.

The borderless land of Loving Respect,
and Individual Honor.

This is the sought-after definition
of what I do … Who I am.

For, I was, once, the One in need
of Acceptance … a peaceful Harbour.

John-Michael
25 March 2009

Integrated and Segrated Relationships

I am most fortunate. My choice to BE a Parent, was encouraged by a Son who could not play the role of a child. My son was born with cerebral palsy. Hence, his options were, from the get-go, limited. He would never have, at his disposal, the usual ‘tools’ and devices made readily available to most children. His mind would never process all of life’s data as other children’s minds do. I, therefore, had my early-on choices made clearer for me by the immediate demands of a Person whose opportunities in life rested more distinctly on my shoulders than would be the case for most new fathers.

I did not have the ‘luxury’ of taking the business of fatherhood on a day-by-day, develop-as-you-go proposition. My son needed someone who would agree to become One with him. Where he was not equipped with the usual capacities to develop chains of sequential thought … he needed someone to slowly, methodically, and repeatedly make distinct those elements of sequential thinking that the unimpaired brain has the customary capacity to develop … every day of every week, of every month, of every year, of his growth and development. His ability to come to a knowledge of, and develop a healthy appreciation for, Who he is, was not going to be functional.

So, he needed a surrogate participant to integrate into him … and (without his conscious awareness of it happening … or feeling of discomfort or embarrassment at having it happen) guide his growth of self-imagery and satisfaction. And, My Dear Reader, none of these considerations had even the foggy clarity or distinction of a thick morning mist as I heard that Neurologist say “Your son has cerebral palsy.” I just knew that this tiny child who looked at his Daddy with eyes of complete faith, trust, and confidence, was going to need an extraordinary man as his Dad. And I was the only candidate for the job. And I was an insecure, confused, irresponsible, totally ill-equipped specimen of a screwed-up (though consummately delightful, entertaining, caring, and loving) young man.

So, I had the choice to either grow up, become someone who I did not have a model for, an example of to study, or image to emulate … or … run (as I later learned, many choose to do.) There was only one choice for me. And I began a terrifying, challenging, scary, demanding, discouraging, daunting, and hilariously wonderful journey into becoming a Dad. Not, mind you, fulfilling a Role as a Dad figure. Oh, no! I willed my Self to take every aspect of my son, each element of my Self, and weave them together into a fabric of relationship that made us one continuous, seamless, and tightly woven tapestry of Father/Son-ism. I elected to freely reveal my fears and hesitations to him … to insure that he would know no boundaries to his freely expressing his to me. I opted to change my pace and rhythm of functioning to function in stride with his. I became Him that he could become a Me that I was (simultaneously) developing “on the wing.”

I tell you, Dear One, of this, because my Lovely Lady Muse has recently drawn me into a reflection on my relationships with my own children, while pointing out, in dramatic and distinct ways, the dichotomy between those who go through their parenting experience fulfilling the duties and responsibilities of a Parent, and those who find a way to become the Being of a Parent. And I am compelled to make an attempt to draw the distinction between the two. One functions and operates across a gap of separate individualism, whilst the other is integrated into the personhood of their child. One follows a set of dogma, doctrine, and expectations visited upon them by society, familial experience and example, and cultural dictate. While the Other joins their Self to their child in a unity of definition of Oneness. They Become one parent/child unit. And for that Unit, that parent/child identity, there is no “good for You/good for Me” debate. There is, instead, a “good for Us” understanding. There is no “As long as You are under My roof, it will be thus and so …” dictate. But, instead, there prevails a “We are made better, and can enjoy more, if we do thus and so, in our Home.” The desegregation of Parents and Children in favour of an integrated Family produces a life-long dividend of shared life-joys, as well as burdens and pain. This I have been blessed to witness, and marvel in, in the lives of Friends and Loved Ones in my little world. And the distinction and resultant loss/benefit outcomes require me to reflect on my own personal experience … and present this opportunity for you, My darling Friend, to reflect on yours.

I do hope, with every fibre of my crusty old Being, that you will allow these considerations to dwell with you for a brief moment. And apply whatever insight or idea, that your own Muse might whisper into your consciousness, toward your relationships … be they Spouse, Child, Parent, Sibling, Colleague, Lover, or Friend. I encourage you to do some Soul-Weaving with the threads and yarns of those individual characteristics, quirks, and idiosyncrasies that define those with whom you would desire a tighter, richer, more beautiful, and more satisfying relationship. You have my earnest prayer for your fuller enjoyment of every aspect of your relational life. I love you, ya know! [a loving smile]

I Differ

There are some things that are (by their nature) a bit difficult to discuss. Topics that cause a little uneasy squirming in mentioning. Orgasm is somewhere near the top of that list. The very word encourages a turning away of the gaze, and nervous shuffling of feet. But I found myself speaking (albeit in a somewhat obtuse manner) about orgasm and foreplay during a prolonged exchange of candor with a dear Friend, just yesterday. So, as is the natural course of things with Yours Truly, my mind continued on with an expanded consideration of the subject, today. And, bless your enduring and tolerant heart, you, My Darling Reader, are now confronted with the outfall of some of those considerations.

I have been, for quite a long time, bothered by, and even, with some regularity, aggravated by our world’s fascination with and propensity toward what we lump together under the heading of “Extreme Sport.” I am vexed by all of the expense that is funneled into … and all of the time, energies, and pre-occupation devoted to .. Bungee-cord jumping, sky-diving, snow-boarding, black-course ski slopes, running of the bulls … well, you catch my drift. I listen, with intense focus, to the interviews of participants as they breathlessly describe the orgasmic satisfaction achieved at the peak of their short-lived experience … and I have yet to be impressed. And, until the light of understanding began to glow in my conscious awareness, yesterday, I really dismissed my lousy attitude as just some individual, and yet-undiscovered, hang-up. But I now know what “the deal” is with me. I yearn for foreplay. Yep! That’s the whole story in a proverbial ‘nutshell.’

I am far more enchanted with and excited by the intercourse between the Performer on stage and their engaged and captivated Audience, than I am with the orgasmic applause at Performance’s conclusion. I savour a day of hand-holding and silly whisperings far more than the immediate and conclusive pinnacle of sexual climax. And no! … you may not dismiss this propensity as the natural consequence of three-score years of living. Nope! I have always known this preference as my own. But, until yesterday’s conversation, and today’s writing, I haven’t had the clarity of understanding or comfort in expression, necessary to express my preference. And, lucky you [smile], you get to be the first to be assailed with my opinion.

I clearly remember my tears and sense of wonderment and appreciation as I watched Red Skelton sharing moments of unstructured and spontaneous silliness with his adoring and readily included Audience. Though I always (including today) shed tears of loving admiration at close of each of Mr. Skelton’s performances … as he humbly and graciously thanked those who had granted him the honour of the time and attention shared … I never (before now) examined the “why” of my reaction. I dismissed it as just another example of my over-the-top predisposition to sensitivity. Today, I have a clearer understanding and appreciation of my values. I would live a life of unending foreplay. I would choose the sprinkling of moments of sweet sighs amidst a mist of consistent touches, kisses, messages, looks, giggles, brief dances, and playful comments … over the occasional happening of the wildly athletic sexual rodeo (though those will always have a welcome place in life’s repertoire.)

So, Dear patient Friend, there you have it. Yet another glimpse into the not-so-orthodox inner workings of your John-Michael. I do gratefully thank you for your generous enduring of my altogether personal openness. I accept that as a rich personal compliment ... and leave you with This.


(Note: If you have no success with the link above, I ask that you do your Self the favour of copying, and pasting ...
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_PIadFsvDk&feature=related . You will be glad.)