Frightened

"There are kids underneath my bed,"

Cried little baby monster Fred.

Momma monster smiled. "Oh, Fred,

There's no such things as kids," she said.

Shel Silverstein

The Pure Soul

"The pure soul shall mount on native wings,

disdaining little sport,

and cut a path into the heaven of glory,

leaving a track of light for men to wonder at."

William Blake

Rarest and Most Precious Human Talent

“… Parnell McCarthy possessed the rarest and most precious of human talents … a talent so elusive that it receded only the faster before those who wooed it with more gadgets and toys: the capacity for participation and joy, the enviable ability to draw vast pleasure and enjoyment from small occasions and simple things.

For all the old man’s show of cynicism, he possessed the sense of wonder of a small boy flying a kite.”

Robert Traver
“Anatomy of a Murder”

Oasis

A tiny Oasis isn't a beach holiday ...

But it will help you make it through the Desert.

John-Michael
11 Aug 2011

Eternity ... Heaven & Hell

Eternity (n.)
Infinite duration, without beginning in the past or end in the future
(Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary [1913])


“Do you believe” I could ask, “in Eternity?” And I have a fair sense of confidence that I would receive an affirmative response from the majority of whomever I offer the question. So, neither beginning nor end … yep! That is how I know it to be myself.

Only makes the most rudimentary of sense that I celebrate this moment, in our shared Eternity, with you. This is our Heaven, if we so elect. Heaven being the Reality of living in the Presense of, and willingly choosing the direction of that loving Creator of all that has ever been … and will ever be. ‘Tis certain that Hell would be opting to live this moment in the elected absence of the influence and care of the “I Am.”

So, my Precious reader, I thank you for your heavenly Presence … here, in our Eternal Moment.

I love You! (Another 'Heavenly choice.") [smile]

Pamela Murphy ... a Marvelous Being

Pamela Murphy, widow of WWII hero and actor, Audie Murphy, died peacefully at her home on April 8, 2010. She was the widow of the most decorated WWII hero and actor, Audie Murphy, and established her own distinctive 35-year career working as a patient liaison at the Sepulveda Veterans Administration hospital, treating every veteran who visited the facility as if they were a VIP.

Any soldier or Marine who came into the hospital got the same special treatment from her. She would walk the hallways with her clipboard in hand making sure her boys got to see the specialist they needed.

If they didn't, watch out. Her boys weren't Medal of Honor recipients or movie stars like Audie, but that didn't matter to Pam. They had served their country. That was good enough for her. She never called a veteran by his first name. It was always "Mister." Respect came with the job.

"Nobody could cut through VA red tape faster than Mrs. Murphy," said veteran Stephen Sherman, speaking for thousands of veterans she befriended over the years. "Many times I watched her march a veteran who had been waiting more than an hour right into the doctor's office. She was even reprimanded a few times, but it didn't matter to Mrs. Murphy. "Only her boys mattered. She was our angel."

Audie Murphy died broke in a plane crash in 1971, squandering millions of dollars on gambling, bad investments, and yes, other women. "Even with the adultery and desertion at the end, he always remained my hero," Pam told me.

She went from a comfortable ranch-style home in Van Nuys where she raised two sons to a small apartment - taking a clerk's job at the nearby VA to support herself and start paying off her faded movie star husband's debts. At first, no one knew who she was. Soon, though, word spread through the VA that the nice woman with the clipboard was Audie Murphy's widow. It was like saying General Patton had just walked in the front door. Men with tears in their eyes walked up to her and gave her a hug.

"Thank you," they said, over and over.

The first couple of years, I think the hugs were more for Audie's memory as a war hero. The last 30 years, they were for Pam.

One year I asked her to be the focus of a Veteran's Day column for all the work she had done. Pam just shook her head no. "Honor them, not me," she said, pointing to a group of veterans down the hallway. "They're the ones who deserve it." The vets disagreed. Mrs. Murphy deserved the accolades, they said.

Incredibly, in 2002, Pam's job was going to be eliminated in budget cuts. She was considered "excess staff." "I don't think helping cut down on veterans' complaints and showing them the respect they deserve, should be considered excess staff," she told me. Neither did the veterans. They went ballistic, holding a rally for her outside the VA gates. Pretty soon, word came down from the top of the VA. Pam Murphy was no longer considered "excess staff."

She remained working full time at the VA until 2007 when she was 87.

"The last time she was here was a couple of years ago for the conference we had for homeless veterans," said Becky James, coordinator of the VA's Veterans History Project. Pam wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help some more of her boys. Pam Murphy was 90 when she died last week. What a lady.

Dennis McCarthy, Los Angeles Times on April 15, 2010 ~

Medal of Honor

Distinguished Service Cross


Silver Star (with oak leaf cluster)

Legion of Merit

Bronze Star (with oak leaf cluster and Valor device)

Purple Heart (with two oak leaf clusters)

U.S. Army Outstanding Civilian Service Medal

U.S. Army Good Conduct Medal

Presidential Unit Citation (with First Oak Leaf Cluster)

American Campaign Medal

European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (with One Silver Star, Four Bronze Service Stars (representing nine campaigns) and one Bronze Arrowhead (representing assault landing at Sicily and Southern France))

World War II Victory Medal

Army of Occupation Medal (with Germany Clasp)

Armed Forces Reserve Medal

French Fouragère in Colors of the Croix de guerre

French Legion of Honor - Grade of Chevalier

French Croix de guerre (with Silver Star)

French Croix de guerre (with Palm)

Medal of Liberated France

Belgian Croix de guerre (with 1940 Palm)

The Combat Infantry Badge

I cannot help but arrive at my own personal conclusion, my Dear Reader …

It seems to me that this Dear Lady’s being who she was … outweighed all of the accumulated awards, bestowed upon her husband, for all of his doing, of all that he did.

I am blessed to know, and have, in the past known, a few, very heroic, noble, and brave Individuals who fight daily battles with courage and effort equal to that of the most celebrated and decorated of Warriors. They will never receive any medals ... and, alas, they rarely enjoy even the most elementary of acknowledgement or notice.

Yet, it is my sincere conviction that they are crowned with a glory that surpasses the most bejeweled of crowns. They can face themselves and Eternity with the firm and solid confidence that they have given all that they had at their command for the highest and noblest of callings. They have given, and give, themselves, to Being all that they can Be. I salute them!

Pamela Murphy's story is yet another instance of One’s Being all that One can Be … having far more eternal merit than all of the most celebrated of Doings.

But, then again, that is merely my own perspective.

Lovingly,
Your constant Friend and humblest of Servants,
John-Michael

My sincere "Thank You" to Carole for sharing this lovely story with me.

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.

Being ... not ... Doing

He would never be measured by the accumulated credits for what he would do in life. His would not be an achievement quantified path. Those who were to take note of him would not speak of the Stuff he had done; the Creditentials he garnered; the Degrees, Titles, or Ranks he had tallied up. No, my son’s life was to be recognized for one … only one … thing. Who he was to be … not what … as that individual Person that he was created to be. This was to be my focus and the core of my parenting efforts for as long as I had the opportunity to influence him. And it was to become my life’s mantra. It is who we be … not what we do … that matters in life. (I know … the grammar stinks … but you get the point!) If we be the best that we can be … no one on the face of this planet can ever be better. This is the path that Matthew and I set out on together. Setting aside all of the cerebral palsy baggage … we would set our sights on being our best … us.

So when the young man came up to me in the coffee shop and said “I noticed that Matt really likes to read the newspaper every morning. So I gave him the novel that I finished reading last night. I told him that he will probably finish it more quickly than I did, because he reads so much. I hope that he enjoys it as much as I did.” I smiled and took silent note of the beautiful way that Matt had disregarded the fact that he couldn’t read. He pushed aside that potential barrier to social interaction … by creating the illusion that he was an ardent reader. Thus he fine-tuned his performance of all of the subtle gestures and mannerisms that he had gleaned from observing the behaviors of those who did read the newspaper. And I had, for some time, watched his beautifully played-out role as he “thoughtfully” turned the thoroughly considered pages. He artfully picked out comic strips and used them as props to share with others … pointing; throwing his head back in laughter; and enjoying the ensuing comradeship with the Strangers he met as he sat at the al fresco tables outside the shop that I sat inside of. (Please note that Matt’s mental challenges do not permit his grasping of the humor in those comics strips … even when read and explained to him.)

This was but one of the daily exercises that I devised for him (without making any note of it … just treating it as a routine, customary, and altogether normal happening.) He sat outside … at a table of his choosing, and enjoying his choice of beverage and pastry … and introduced himself to whatever level of social interplay he was comfortable with. I observed; took mental notes for discussion with his speech therapist (as we developed our understanding of the particular limitations manifested by Matt’s cerebral palsy affected brain), and devised “coaching” tips to share with Matt.

You see, my Friend, Matthew did not want to be recognized as someone who was challenged by the retardation of his mental functions. He did not want to have his physical impairments noted or accommodated. He wanted to be … Matthew; just another guy; a friend; one of “the gang.”

At our neighborhood YMCA … where I weaned Matt from my accompaniment by pointing to the “Members Only Beyond This Point” sign at the entrance to the gym, and told him that he was the Member. I was just his driver and escort. And I had no privileges there … he was the entitled one … none of the many folks, that Matthew established himself with, discussed, or even took notice of, the fact that he had never experienced homework assignments from school … when he discussed, with them, their children’s struggles with homework. He had honed his listening skills to such a lovely degree of empathetic listening that anyone would comfortably believe the illusion that he was in complete understanding of every element of the subject at hand. He simply pushed aside that potential barrier to social intercourse, by focusing on the finer goal of the desired relationship. He was marvelous. He was allowing himself to be! And he became a very self-assured young man. Content in himself, and comfortable with others.

So why, you, my Darling Reader, may well ask, do I tell you all of this? Because, Dear One, I hear so many lamenting their frustrations and disappointments at not achieving what they had expected themselves to achieve. So much moaning and groaning about perceived “failures!” And it is all about stuff that they feel that they “should” (by some mysterious standard either imposed by others [who have no God-given right to either impose; or certainly not to judge], or by some inner demons that inflict demands based on nothing more than self-generated unreasonableness.)

To these I say “How is that human Being coming along? That’s right! You are not a “human doing.” Even machines and devices can do stuff. But only a Being given the marvelous Gift of choice and election can be.” So I ask you to consider following Matthew’s lead. Set aside those impediments to your realization of who you … and only you … can be. And permit your Self to be … that uniquely equipped, individually gifted, and singly able person who has this one-time opportunity to offer our world … You.

I humbly thank you for your patient indulgence with me. Please know that my speaking to you, in this way, is born only of one thing … my genuine and respectful love of … You.

I remain your steadfast Friend and always willing Servant.

Minister of Manure

It was in those sacred hours of early-morning quietness on a day that found me in the throws of a frustrated and discouraged struggle with my spirit. (I find these times that are without interruption or distraction an ideal time for dialogue with my Maker.) On this particular occasion, I was engaged in some strong bemoaning regarding my lifetime of losses, failures, frustrations and disappointments.

“Dear Father, I know that all that has occurred in my life has a purpose. I, as You see clearly in my heart of hearts, have complete confidence in Your control and purpose for my life. But, Father, with all due respect, I would surely appreciate some illumination on the picture of my life. It seems to me that everything in my life, every relationship, every career choice, every circumstance that this world uses to measure ‘success’ has turned to ‘dung’.” (I must note that I did not actually use the word ‘dung’ in that discussion, but I can be far more candid in my conversations with the Creator than would be proper in this text.) “So please give me some understanding of the relevance of this life of wasted effort that I have invested so much in.” Then came, by way of that distinctly clear inner Voice, His response.


“This place, known to you as your personal world, is My Garden. I manage the preparations, the plantings, the nurturing, the pruning, and the harvest. You are quite right, all of your past could well be summarized, by the unknowing, as an accumulation of ‘dung’ (He used my actual descriptive term.) But, John-Michael, if you will agree to place that pile of waste at my disposal, I will direct you to those of my special ‘plants’ in My garden that are readied by circumstance (at My direction) for nourishment. Your ‘dung’ can become very valuable ‘manure’ for beneficial use or, at your option, can remain a smelly pile of unpleasant waste. What you must be willing to accept is the reality that it may not be your role in my garden to be the prize blossom or the award winning produce. What is required of you is your willingness to be the nurturing and sustaining dispenser of the manure of your experience and insight for the production of successes in others.”

“Oh, so I am being called to the ‘Ministry of Manure’” I laughingly responded. “Quite right” He affirmed, and we laughed together. (It is a good thing to laugh with the Almighty.) And so it has been for a decade or better now. I am most content to be His designated Minister of Manure in the small patch of Life’s garden in which I live.


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

Flexible Containers

With our environment of language, and practice, as the "container" and the truths that Life brings to to us as '‘substance'’ for our "containing"... might it not behoove us to be reminded that the container is not the measure of the quality of the substance contained, and should be readily reconsidered, when the demands of the substance, outweigh the capacity of the vessel.

It seems appropriate then, with the understanding that the confines of religious practice, nomenclature, ritual, and dogma are but Man's feeble attempts to encapsulate and express spiritual truths that transcend the bounds of earthly abilities ... it might be a good idea (as spiritual insight and awareness grow and develop) to adjust, modify, reconstruct, refresh, revise, and/or discard those practices, rituals, nomenclature, and/or dogma (containers) that no longer accommodate our evolving Awareness (substance)?

Ah, the joy of freedom in expressing new truths and understandings in an environment of healthy, positive, and dynamic enthusiasm!

John-Michael
(Originally penned: 11 August 1998)


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

By Whatever Name ... In Every Way

The heart of a Father soars
at the first unintelligible sounds of loving recognition
from his infant child.

He requires no lofty phrases of oratory …
no declaration of profound allegiance
or obedient devotion.

His joyful acceptance
of this simplest, unadorned, adoration and trust
is without reservation or qualification.

This is true in the lands and regions
of all of humankind.

Language, custom, tradition, and setting
have no dilutive effect
on this timeless dynamic.

So it was with those first recognitions
of an awesome Power …
some inexplicable Source …
by earliest Man.

He expressed his sense of wonder and awe
in scratchings on wood, stone, or earth.

He gave vent to his need for expression
through ritual and ceremony …
with dance, song, and works of artful display.

The Father of all that is
cannot have been any less affected
by these efforts to speak,
than any father regarding his child.

A touch; a look; a sound from an adoring child
is always appropriate and correct
in the heart of its father.

I am certain that the “I Am” hears
the absolute, unadulterated message, from the Worshiper,
when addressed as Allah, God, Yahweh, Vishnu,
or through the rhythms from a ceremonial log.

This surely has been … and, forever will be, so.

John-Michael

27 September 2010

Seeing the Blossoms Amongst the Thorns

My thoughts, in March of 07 (when I first posted this bit) were on the confluence of four separate streams of truth, contributed by sources, both of today and many yesterdays. Here is what I said then (illustrated with images of a terribly inhospitable-looking plant which offers (if One notices) heavenly blossoms in the midst of its life-protecting thorns)...

My thoughts today are the confluence of four separate streams of truth contributed by sources both of today and many yesterdays. I am grateful to Life for my conversation with SA wherein I offered something akin to “All you need do is ... BE available ... to the new and desired circumstances that Life will bring to your awareness.” Her response was “And I will not be available if I am busy with the old and undesirable. Right?” And she was, of course, quite right.

Then I was given the gift (recently) of a vehicle-to-vehicle visit (him, on his way to work … me, finishing my newspaper deliveries) with BLY and his offering of “It’s all good … all you have to do is find it.” He then smiled a knowing smile and added “There! That will give you something to ponder.” And I admitted, to him, that I would, indeed, ponder that thought (or, as he added further “That will be a new cud for you to chew.” as he smiled again and drove away toward his work place, and I continued on my newspaper delivery route.) Life was, once again, speaking through the insights and in the inspired voices of special Lives in my world.

By the time that I had finished my delivery duties, I was certain of what I am obliged to offer to you, My Dear Reader, today. Four elements from four sources (two of whom I have already revealed.) The other two are the biblical psalmist, and Dr. Alfred Adler (both of whom I have quoted in previous messages to you.)

Beginning with SA’s “And I will not be available if I am busy with the old and undesirable.” I reflect on those imperatives that demand the attention of our minds, and insist on the focus of our activities, in our daily walk. These imperatives are (for the most part) forces that we are not even conscious of.

They are instilled in, and reinforced in, us by voices (often well-intentioned and genuinely caring) demanding our attention. From our earliest moments of life we have concerned individuals warning us against (what could be) threats to our 'success' in life. Voices of family, peers, significant others of all sorts and description. All insisting that we conform, adhere, and mold ourselves to their perspectives on every element of our lives. For they have the "experience" and know what is "Best" for us. I liken them to the thorns of life. Those aspects, of our daily existence, that warn us of life’s threats and survival demands … but have, as well, their own potential for inflicting emotional, physical, material (and even psychological) harm if not balanced with what BLY referred to as the “all good.” Those traits, idiosyncratic gifts and unique talents that are Life's Gift to our individuality. (And, please note, I do not discount the element of necessity to hearing and respecting these voices … to ignore the “thorns” of life [those potential 'pit-falls' of bad habits and practices] and would be nothing short of foolhardy. Thorns are, by their very nature and design, early warning systems and defense mechanisms necessary to survival. But they are NOT the Mission of the Plant.)

For, My Darling Reader, to internalize the thorns to the exclusion of Blossoms … the “all good” of life … is to create an inner Monster that will cripple and slowly devour us. I cannot count the number of individuals, who I have had opportunity to share life's walk with, who have had themselves damaged, stunted, lamed, and/or (at the very least) hindered by the words and actions of significant others in their lives. Thus triggering their survival responses of focusing solely on the threat of supposed thorns of inadequacy, self-worthlessness, incompetence or other limiting mind-traps. This produces a constant fear of, and attention to avoidance of, these sets of perceived flaws. Thus making their lives a miserable succession of unhappy attempts to overcome self-imposed shackles of Self denial and devaluation. And they, in that state, are not “available” to the beauty and joy of the other presence in their lives. The Presence that has shared their living moments ... unseen and even unsuspected. The Blossoms that are their unrealized Glory. And The Blossom is the purpose of that 'Plant' in Life's 'garden,' that is ... us!

Those blossoms of talents, gifts, abilities, and personality traits that are right there all the while … but have not entered into what Dr. Adler called “our realm of phenomenological awareness.” That is to say … those phenomena that are the always-present “good” do not even exist to our awareness when our focus is locked on the “thorn” which becomes the entirety of our existence. Great is my joy when I can reveal a glimpse of their Bloom to someone who has been languishing without a prior awareness of its presence. When I can awaken and expand the view of One whose vision has been blinded by the thorn-meisters in their life.

So, I must slightly amend BLY’s thought to read, instead, “It’s all good… all you have to do is be available to it.” And … yes, the thorns … the details … the demands … the necessities of life are also good and proper in life’s balance. And therein lies the key … BALANCE. All that we know (and all that we have yet to discover) is created in a wonderful balance and with a glorious purpose. This I am absolutely certain of, Dear Friend.

Thus, I can, once again, present the imperative of the Psalmist; “Be still… and know.” Please stop the repetition of behaviors that leave no opportunity for awareness of the new. Please permit yourself the refreshment of discovery of the “all good” that has always been present … waiting for your acknowledgment and celebration. Those undiscovered or unrealized talents ... your own abilities to 'see' life differently ... and communicate that fresh perspective to your personal world ... those who are hungry for what you ... and only you have to offer. Still yourself … step off of the treadmill of habit, custom, and familiarity … and breathe in a fresh breath of the “all goodness” awaiting your appreciation and embracing. Give your Self the gift of the complete You. BLY is quite right … “It is all good.” SA is quite right … “I will not be available if I am busy with the old and undesirable.” May YOU be available to that better Self ... just waiting within your Person ... for recognition.

NAMASTE

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

Not 'AnyOne' ... 'SomeOne'

“So, why do you want to be alone? Do you not wish to be with anyone?” I was asked. “Oh no! Please understand. It is not my wish, to be alone.

I want very much to be with 'SomeOne'. But if I was with 'AnyOne,' it would only be an uncomfortable reminder, that I am not with that 'SomeOne'.” I answered.

Now, as I reflect on that brief exchange, I consider that You too (as You read these few, simple words) may want to be with your 'SomeOne' at this moment. But circumstance (or perhaps the fruits of previous life choices) have conspired to leave you alone ... with a discriminating disinclination to be with 'AnyOne'.

So, I write, that You may know ...
You are not alone in your Moment.

IMAGES: "Alone" Maxine Kahn, BBC; "SomeOne" Darkroom 11

Common Gifts

Allowing a few silent moments, with this image,
made me feel good.

Peace and stillness are present here.

One, delicate and easily called “fine” …
the other, sturdy, charmingly "homey,"
and purposefully useful …

They find kinship and harmony
in their unassuming absence of pretense.

Each welcomes me in its own, individual, way.

And I am comfortable with whiling away
unmeasured time with them.

How I do adore such simple,
yet elegant, 'Friends'!

IMAGE through the generous courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com

Life's Meaning

The cacophony of today's noises cause me to revisit these thoughts from 20 September 2008 ...

“Is this what gives meaning to your life?” A question that I have oft asked of myself. “Is the energy of this moment the defining power of your living?” “Is the music, inspiring your life’s dance, the melody that most honestly speaks the desires of your heart?” “Are you being true to all that is the precious core of You?”

I do not grade or rank the worth of the task or activity in which I am engaged. No, Dear Friend … I, instead, weigh the merits of my heart’s intention‘s in my engagement in any enterprise. And … only then … do I ascribe my own quiet appraisal of value in my endeavor.

I will not accept anger as my life’s meaning. Nor hate. Not even irritation. And certainly not malice. How dreadful I would feel if I felt that my life’s meaning could be defined as any one of those or their miserable cousins; bitterness, contempt, hostility, or vengefulness. I can not even consider carrying the burden of such as my daily baggage. For I opt, to the contrary, for a daily walk made lighter by the lifting spirit of a heart made glad by contemplation of all that is good. I am, you could say, made lazy by my addiction to easiness of spirit.

I write of these things today, in response to what I have recently seen and heard in the lives of some with whom I share my life path. I have witnessed the pain of their insistence on dwelling on all of those crippling voices of dark considerations. And I cannot bear the destructiveness of such a walk. Finding myself in proximity to such an environment of negative waste tears me down and renders me weak and useless. So I remind myself … as I refresh your memory … in the recollection of one of my favorite scriptural formulae:

“Whatsoever things are true;
Whatsoever things are honest;
Whatsoever things are just;
Whatsoever things are pure;
Whatsoever things are lovely;
Whatsoever things are of good repute;
If there be any virtue;
If there be any praise;
Think on these things.”
Philippians Ch4, V8

There you are! What, I ask you, could possibly be simpler? For how can we allow a seed of anger to be “planted” in our mind … and then ask why we are not reaping joy? Can we rationally expect peace to be the fruit of our allowing hatred to take root in our thinking? Does frustration and anxiety render a harvest of satisfaction and contentment? Please, My Dear Reader, permit me to suggest the beauty of the simplest and most rudimentary of formulae. Only cling to what you want to embrace as worthy of your life’s meaning. And gently turn your back on all of the world’s encouragements to devalue yourself with tabloid noise.

In the hope that you find a bit of encouragement in these considerations, I remain (as always) your loving and caring Friend and willing Servant.

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]

The Truest Measure

The truest measure
of Man's character ...

is reflected in the scale,

of what it takes to upset him.

With this in mind ...


Many who would pose as Great,

are revealed as Minuscule.


Whereas ...


Many, who the World would dismiss

as Insignificant ...

become known as Monumental.

One Word

It may be that I am vastly different from others. I really do not know how the putting away of feelings and impressions is accomplished by those around me. But I do know that I have a need to place the stuff of my life in order, with something akin to the systems that we employed in my 5th and 6th grade classroom. Our class was housed in the school library. Each day was begun by the checking in and shelving of the library books returned by the school’s student body.

Hence, we had to know the classification and sequencing system of each book in order to shelve it properly. So it is with my thoughts and feelings. I must identify, with an appropriate ‘label,’ each experienced emotional happening, in order to ‘file it away’ comfortably. So, you can see why those ‘labels’ are important to me.

Thus it is that I have been vexed for a number of years by my inability to affix a word to a couple of significant happenings in my life. I have long-known that the process of thought ... the management of impression, emotion, ideas, and the like ... is made possible by the ‘tools’ of thinking. Namely, words. Without those words … those tools … no processing of ideas, feelings, or emotions, is possible.

This awareness is what motivated me to devote every possible moment to the enriching of my son’s linguistic abilities. I would converse with him about totally inane subjects … matters of meaning and import … concepts of vague or abstract impression … specific linkages and/or sequencing of elements of life ...anything that would enable him to better engage in, his own private and personal, experiences of thinking, and sorting out, his mind and spirit’s workings.

I am pleased that I can rest in my knowledge that his abilities, in those areas, developed far beyond the most optimistic of projections, offered by specialists, in disciplines devoted to the treatment, and development, of persons with disabilities. He excelled over any projections presented in estimations of the long-range effects of his cerebral palsy. So, you see, I have a keen understanding of the import of those critical tools of language.

So a word … just the right word … is vitally important to me. And I never relent in my quest for that particular word … as I seek to define, and better understand, and respond to, my life experiences. That one word … that will enable me to place that experience in its proper place on the shelves of my experiential library.

Now, that’s a hell of a lot to say as a prelude to today’s happening. The light-bulb over the head moment when the perfect word presented itself to me. The word that identified, with absolute exactitude, that look that was in my daughter’s eyes when I last saw her. The word that explained all of the depth of meaning being transmitted by her words, demeanor, and spirit, as she dismissed me from her presence. The word that speaks of the volumes of understanding that was present when I was similarly dismissed from my mother’s presence as I, at age 20, left home. One word that I have not for all of these years, been able to find … that I might be able to affix an understanding that would satisfy (and bring resting comfort to my groping for closure.) At last I have been given the wonderful gift of that specific word … it is 'contempt.'

Now, at long last, I can rest in an understanding of what was being conveyed by those two individuals, in those happenings of five years ago (in the instance of my daughter’s presentation) and over forty years ago (with my mother’s indelible look.) I had not encountered that sensation outside of those two experiences … until last week. It was then that I was revisited with the flash-back recall of all of the feelings and emotions associated with a confrontation with contempt. In that instant, the clock of history was spun back … and I, again, saw that look in my mother’s eyes. I relived all that was still fresh from the archives of my recollection. I, afresh and anew, saw utter contempt in the face of my mother.

But now, unlike the previous time, I can simply, and quietly, label it for what it is … and shelve it … with determination to never check that volume out again.


Oxford English Dictionary

contempt
noun
The feeling that someone or something is worthless or beneath consideration.

Erdrich's "Advice to Myself"

LOUISE ERDRICH: [I’ve]” just got to be Erdrich. I can't do anything else. I'm going to read this, 'cause this is what I finally had to do. I had to give myself advice …”

Excerpted from: the transcript, of Bill Moyers’ interview of Louise Erdrich, found at … http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/04092010/transcript3.html ... and edited by John-Michael (in structure only [spacing, capitalizations, and punctuations] … no text altered)

Advice to Myself
Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes.

Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.

Leave the black crumbs at the bottom of the toaster.


Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.

Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.

Don't even sew in a button.


Let the wind have its way … then the earth
that invades as dust … and then the dead,
foaming up, in gray rolls, under the couch.

Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.


Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzle ...
or the doll's tiny shoes …

Don't worry who uses whose toothbrush …
or if anything matches ... at all.

Except one Word to another … or a Thought.


Pursue the Authentic.

Go after it with all your Heart.

Your Heart, that Place
you don't even think of cleaning out.

That closet stuffed with savage mementos.


Don't sort the paperclips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner again.

Don't answer the telephone ... ever ...
or weep over anything that breaks.


Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator.

Accept new forms of life and talk to the dead
who drift in through the screened windows … who collect
patiently on tops of food jars and books.


Recycle the mail, don't read it … don't read anything
except what destroys the insulation
between your Self ... and your Experience.

Bon Appétit!

Gas! Heartburn, indigestion, abdominal disquietude, intestinal distress … describe it as you will, there is no delicate nor pleasant way of considering the miserable experience of living with the aftermath of the introduction of something that establishes itself as disagreeable to One’s system. Altogether an often-painful and always-uncomfortable siege on One’s Internals. So why, we are compelled to ask, do we return to Life’s table of available Offerings and yet-again choose to dish a dollop of that known-to-harm choice onto our Plate of experiential opportunities?

If I had the answer to that one at the ready, I would instantly render countless thousands of Counselors, Psychiatrists, Psychologists, Physicians, and even vendors of pharmaceuticals and herbal remedies, obsolete. No, my Dearest of ever-so-kind Readers, it just isn’t going to be that easy! All that I can, and will, do is reflect, with You, on what I hope will be a useful and helpful Imagery to serve us in our daily encounters with those tempting and perhaps even habitual inclinations to forget to be kind to our Selves.

So, here ‘tis … my take on how we are affected by our life-encounters. I think of it all as a natural taking in of nourishment. We have appetites. We have needs. We are created with certain basic requirements for fundamental sustenance. These are all true and clear enough. But then enter all of those influences that tailor, steer, distract, mandate, demand, coerce, and perpetually suggest their way into our choices of ways to address simple requisites. (Or, maybe not so simple!)

What I have learned about Temperament Types and Personality Styles has taught me that we are all created with differing core, innate Yearnings (Appetites, if you will.) These are then impacted by home/family environments. And the evolving and developing result of those inner Yearnings is, in turn, shaped and altered by social and cultural influences.

Then … we find ourselves out in “The World” … where we seek some comfortable and enjoyable satisfaction of our now-individualized Yearnings. And we have neither a personal understanding of what is driving and perplexing us, nor any ability to find safe and constructive help in addressing a viable path to follow in our quest. For, don’t you see, everyone else in our world is either doing their dead-level best to survive their own obstacle course, or experiencing life in a balanced way that does not allow them to comprehend the vexations of Others who are struggling. Not a whole lot of fun for One seeking comfort!

Nonetheless, most of us ‘taste’ all sorts of experiences. We ingest (into our life-system) all manner of selections that seem (at the moment of consideration) to offer some variation on the satisfaction theme. Some go down quite well. Some are a bit challenging to the yet-unacquired taste. Others are bitter and completely offsetting. All manner and scope of samplings can be found and known. And we learn. Sometimes, we rest well and pleasantly grow and develop with combined tried-and-true people and experiences … combined with some measure of spicy new adventures. Other times, we find ourselves in the throes of painful and frightening spells that have “Why, oh why, did I do that … go there …?!” as the accompanying theme. And we suffer all that must be suffered as our life-system ‘digests’ and deals with what we have introduced to it.

Then … blessed relief! Our life rids itself of the waste result of the unpleasant experience. It passes! And, though weakened and drained by all that has been taken from us by the encounter, we slowly regain our strength and vitality. Even our appetite for living!

Even though we know (at some quiet and distant level) that we have learned some valuable lesson from our combined indiscretion/ignorance/irresponsibility/weakness/vulnerability, we don’t want to hear it! Later will be soon enough! For right now even the mention or recollection of the offending detour from safety and sanity is enough to reignite the still-fresh pains and agonies of the yet-raw happening. For the moment, we must focus on whatever Life, in all of Her loving kindness and omnipotent wisdom, has prepared for our Future.

So, My Darling Friend, when I see that Table of tempting treats and delicacies served up in your Tomorrow, I have made it my personal mission to step in the path of anyone or anything that would wish to remind you of your past miseries and lessen the awaiting joys of the feast, that Life has served up for you. I will fight any fight to lift you above the grasp of all influences that want you to walk in the muck of well-forgotten waste and experiential-effluent. You have dealt with … and are rising above all that has served its purpose.

I bid you an unfettered "Welcome!" to Life's Grand Buffet. Take your time. Dwell a while. And remember ... not everything is to the taste of everyone. Listen to Life's gentle, caring, and loving guidance of your own lovely Inner You. It is what makes You the Blessing that you are to me. [smile]

Bon Appétit!

(PS As I promised when I offered Last Saturday's Post, these are some of those thoughts that swirled about in my funky mind as I offered the 3 sets of Images there. I hope and trust that Life directs this bit to that special Someone who has a ready 'appetite' for it. [smile])