Life ... the Scamp!

Life is such a Scamp! Let me save you the bother of looking the definition of that one (Scamp) up (in case you haven’t been using it recently.) “ Mischievous in a likable or amusing way” is the perfect description of how She (Life) has been playing with me since the first of this year. Some of you have made mention of a few of my little sojourns down “memory lane” in the past few weeks.

Not of my design, nor, certainly, with any intent on my part, my Muse (Life’s little voice within my awareness) has been whispering quiet comments into my consciousness … drawing refreshed pictures of past encounters, feelings, emotions (oh yes!, lots of emotions) … and I have been doing what I always do. I share them with you … here … with the understanding that what I express may enable you to express what lies just beneath your surface layers of hesitation.

But today, I see other possibilities in the game. For, today, I am awakened to the likelihood that my recapturing of yesterday’s treasured sensations … then expressing them on this page … thereby awakening a stirring in the core of another … who, in turn, responded with an open and enthusiastic awakening of my very present desires … which we can only realize and enjoy in the abstract and virtual (within the confines of our secret 'snow-globe') because of the limitations of her present circumstances and commitments … leaving me AWARE (because of recollections of my yesterdays) … ALIVE (in the immediacy of today’s energies) … and now, just today, conscious that it all awakens me to, and sets me up for, my being READY for my tomorrows (triggered by my receipt, today, of an application for the pension that will enable the next chapter in my book of life.)

All a seemingly well-orchestrated program visited upon me by a force and power that has an intimate interest in my future happiness and fulfillment. And, yes, My Dear Reader, I do, indeed, have a working knowledge of the legitimacy of that Being, that Force, that Power. For my experience, through myriad events, and over the course of many years, has validated, beyond any remote question or doubt, the ultimate reality of Life‘s involvement in my life‘s story.

So, while I always encourage our being “in the present moment,” I must allow for our remaining open and receptive to all of that accumulated music, and those magical lyrics, rehearsed in the past … then orchestrated and directed through this present … into a symphony to be performed in our future. Such is my awareness at this moment of my candid and open sharing of this .. my life-walk … with you.

Isn’t Life just the most adorable Scamp though!?

Giving Self

Verily I say unto you; Blessed is the man who, seeing his neighbor labouring in a barren field, gives himself to the task of labouring beside his neighbor … knowing, all the while, that the fruits of their efforts will be in the shared heat of the day, and weariness of body, only … for they mutually understand that there will be no material harvest to be realized from their invested efforts.

Yet, I say unto you, that man who so gives of himself, in the knowledge that there will be no benefit, of either property or goods, to be later shared … but gives himself solely for the encouragement and sustaining of his neighbor’s spirit … will have a harvest of eternal nourishment in his own soul’s gladness. And his neighbor will enjoy a harvest of eternal reassurance that he is neither alone, nor uncared for, in his struggles.

The gospel according to Life’s speaking to John-Michael


IMAGE from HayInArt.com

HELLO ...

Did you hear about Tuesday's election primaries? ...

Anyone ... are you listening?
They say this is IMPORTANT! ...

HELLO!! ... HELLOooooooo... helloooooo.....

"Did I hear someone say something?"

IMAGES are the united talent and generosity of Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org

"Did You Hear..."

"Did you hear about Tuesday's election primaries?"

"No, thank God, I didn't!"

IMAGE is the united talent and generosity of Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org

Sense of Wonder

"
When did we first try to express our sense of wonder?"

I don't know, it has been a while now.


"What brand and variety of Faith or belief System was it?"

I don't think that there were any Franchises established yet.

It was just between Us and the The Source.

IMAGE is the united Talent and Generosity of Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org

Loving Her

I didn’t want to use her … I wanted to love her … and that is still, on this very day, at this exact moment, what I want. I am fully aware … know exactly … have complete knowledge and understanding of her perception of what is required of her to be accepted and have worth. And she was, and is right in the great majority … yet, so wrong in me.

Yes, Dear Friend, I am fully aware of my shift from the past tense to the present. For, you see, I knew Her … then. And have met Her, yet again, now. I yearned, then, to communicate my devotion to Her … my adoration of all of the Person … the individual, tender, sensitive, and fragile creature that my senses knew Her to be. But neither She nor I had any preparation for … any knowledge of how to respond to … any skills to allow us to communicate an understanding of the depth of what was born between us … even if we had, miraculously, been capable of such an understanding. We were reduced, through the limitations of our ineptitudes, to frantic, clumsy, awkward, and ultimately frustrating attempts to express the inexpressible.

I knew Her in the persons of two distinctly separate individuals, then. Two who had no similarities in any circumstance, save their twin core spirits. And now, today, I have a renewed acquaintanceship with that very core spirit … in another. And, just as was true then, I have fallen in love. The significant difference today being … I understand … I know … I am fully responsible for my opted-for response. And, just as was true then, She is unable to recognize the merits of my love for her. Hence She is robbed of the benefit of a peaceful rest in and celebration of a love that requires no “return on investment.” She has only Her previous experience to serve her as reference for a way to interpret what I have given Her. And that experience, sadly, falls immeasurably short of what I give.

So, you might ask, how do I find any encouragement for my own spirit in this obviously (to the uninformed and not-understanding) doomed placement of my affections. And I can (and do, even as I write this account) smile and rest in my knowledge that She was, after some forty years, able (in both if Her past personifications) to know and appreciate the depth and quality of my unending love for Her. She was able to reach past all of those years, beyond all of those ensuing circumstances and experiences, and share with me Her satisfaction with the legitimacy of my indelible love. And, tonight, as I give vent to my soul on this page, I have a quiet and trusting awareness that She, of today’s encounter, will, when it counts … when it is most needed … find solace and pleasant comfort in an understanding that She is then (whenever that someday might be) just as unwaveringly loved as on this present day.

If all of this seems “other-worldly” and mystical to your reading … that is completely proper and appropriate. For, Dear One, I love in an “other-worldly” and mystical way. I know love to be something eternal … of the spirit and soul. And I choose to open myself to a trusting confidence in the Host, of all things eternal, to validate the worth and authenticity of my loving.

Funeral Cortège

They are two distinctly different ways of perceiving. Neither is more “right” than the other. And both have an equal potential to be “wrong” in practice. They exist as a result of the innate characteristics of our organic personality and temperament types. And … if we can accept the premise that what has been designed, and created, by a Creator exercising a plan of meaningful balance and purpose … the reality of these schools of perception is something easily embraced.

What is a documented fact is that we all share an equal ability to accept the premise that we are responsible for, and are held accountable for, how we manage the daily transactions of our lifetime. The difference between us begins with the fact that over eighty percent of the human population operates from an inner understanding … neither taught nor imposed … that their accountability is judged by, and is recorded in the accumulation of possessions, achievement of status, garnering of awards, and balance of assets that are credited to us at any point in life. The Less-than twenty percent of our population, who share this world with the majority, operate from a view of their daily responsibilities that measures the worth of their enterprises by the degree to which they enhance the quality of the lives, environment, and circumstances of the world in which they live. Theirs is a much-less easy life to audit for value. For the value and merit of all that results from their lives’ engagement, is in the lives and situations of others.

My earliest awareness of this disparity in perceptions is recalled in my memory of my grandfather’s assessment, of the worth and merit of someone’s life, by the funeral cortège that followed that person’s hearse on its journey from a place of memorial service, to the cemetery. Granddad would always manage to situate himself in a place that afforded him the ability to count the number of vehicles (a number that he would remember and quote to you on any later recall of that persons passing away), and the intrinsic value of those vehicles (so that the evident status of the deceased could be estimated.) This accounting, was to him, a fair means of estimating the value of that persons life on earth. How many, and of what station … this was what meant merit to him. And I always felt a cold and distant sense of alienation from him in those moments of his sharing of his estimations.

Do you see? He was of the majority perception. And I of the minority. But I did not, until much later in my life, know that such distinctions existed. So, I was left to always feel that I was defective … lacking … failing in my ability to see life realistically and responsibly. For, in my estimation, to see the attendees at a memorial service, for one who has departed this plane of eternity, with tears of sadness accompanying smiles of recollection of, and appreciation for a life meaningfully lived … would be the signs of that life having been invested well and successfully. Even if all of those attendees came to, and went from, that memorial service … on foot.

So, Granddad and I did not engage in any conversations about such matters. For, to him, my views would have seemed quite flighty, unrealistic, and irresponsible. And, because of his station as the Authority and symbol of what we, as a family, were to aspire to … I would have felt foolish and without merit in my estimations. Yet, we shared a love and respect for each other that, while sometimes strained, endured until his parting in his ninety ninth year. (I did not attend his memorial service … he understands.)

I share these thoughts with You, My Dear Reader, to open the eyes of your awareness … hopefully earlier in your pilgrimage that it was my experience to know. So that you may benefit from an understanding of this small slice of the diversity in life perception that our Creator wisely instilled in us … the Created. There is a marvelous balance here. The Accumulators and Measurers of the population maintain a healthy commerce and trade in all of those things that make comfortable living possible for us all. Whilst the Givers and Healers contribute those elements that enhance the spirit and quality of our shared environment. In the knowledge that we all have a particular, meaningful, and appropriate place in each others’ lives … I am peacefully pleased. I do hope that my sharing of this thought does the same for you today.

A Tale About an Ordinary Man

Once in a great while, Life steps into this tiny place that is my world, and validates my Soul’s theme song.

Such is my blessed experience, right now. For, you see, My Dear Reader, Friend, and Spirit Partner, I have just immersed myself in the experience of a motion picture that cradled all that is Me, in the reassuring arms of affirmation. Affirmation and renewal of my comfort with and commitment to those life-values that are the core of all that I am. Relationships … Caring … Embracing … Serving … Touching ... all that I hold dear.

I watched … in this, the quiet and solitary confinement of my tiny chamber, my “monk’s cell” (if you will), of a home … the movie “The Simple Life of Noah Dearborn.”

I do not recommend it to you … for your viewing enjoyment … for not everyone would be of a temperament that will find harmony with its theme. But, if upon taking a peek at a summary of the story, you think that you might have a place for it in your musing … I heartily endorse it to you.

I am going to wash the tear tracks from my face now … I love you … Yes! You! And I am asking You to do Me a favor (this is the first and only time that I ever have.) Please be gentle with your Self. I feel the real and definite need to ask that of You … right now … in this moment … as a favor to Me. I thank You for that.

Interlude

I invite you to ... an INTERLUDE ...

Definition: a composition inserted between the parts of a longer composition; a break in continuity

IMAGE is Talents and Generosity of Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org, brought together

The Magic Touch

There is something wonderfully powerful in the word “touch.” Consider, with me, the significance stirred by such phrases as “It was very touching” and “I’m touched by ___” or “I think that I am a bit touched in the head sometimes”. Do you see what I see in this little word’s weight? It communicates a “getting through the barriers” or “cutting to the core” even “affected at the most sensitive.” And I am one who is forever a fan of “The Magic Touch.” (allow me to refer you to www.marjosplace.com/ThePlatters.html , where you will meet one of my favorite-of-all-times groups performing [if you download it] this very song (You've Got the Magic Touch) ... go ahead DANCE and sing along ... I am!)

I can easily recall “the talk” that was quietly whispered amongst my family members as they (Mom and her peers) would speak of one of their cousins who had a way about him that was dramatically different from all others in the clan. He hugged! That’s right … imagine … him, a big State Trooper … all Man … and a tactile Being. Quite the thing! (But they all liked it, and spoke of him with a certain revering and admiring attitude.) But, as a child, I wondered what the big deal was. And (in the natural order of life) as I grew up, I had a predisposition to be suspect of this “touching thing.” I am so very glad that I conquered those crippling bonds.

For, you see, Dear Reader, I now understand that not all of us are designed with a nature that is hospitable to or comfortable with touching. This is a psychological/physiological fact. So, please do not beat up on yourself if you are hesitant to touch, or be touched … and, just as importantly, please do not feel, or ,especially, show disrespect to one whose natural temperament is disinclined to tactile communication. But I believe that we can all benefit by enhancing our awareness of, and comfort with, the wonder and magic of touching available to those who have the gift of reaching through the barriers of separateness… who can cut to the center of core emotions not available to the spoken language … and touch.

Now, I am, mind you, just your ordinary slice of untrained and unschooled individual who has nothing more than a few score years of observation and only limited experience in these matters. But I feel the topic worthy of raising as a matter for thoughtful consideration and hopefully, some communication between all of us who have significant others. Others, in the form of family (children, uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins, and certainly spouses or lovers) who have the potential need for communication beyond the verbal. Then we have friends, associates, neighbors, and passing strangers whose spirits could possibly be bolstered by a “high five” (or other respectful physical expression) on occasion. Recognizing, appreciating, respecting and responding to the gifts of each individual person in our lives is what I am addressing today.

A grasp of the hand in a way other that the habitual handshake can convey sentiment and significance that words would never be able to “touch.” A squeeze of the shoulder of one dealing with the pain of loss or despair “says” more than a box full of greeting cards. Fingers lightly placed against the cheek accompanying silent eye contact “speaks” volumes of understanding and empathy. These and many other forms of expression, through our touch, are resources that I fear languish in disuse to the detriment of our better knowing and appreciating each other every day living. And it is my wish to bring this neglect to the surface of our awareness … if but for this moment.

I cannot think of touching without reflecting on my favorite painter of old. Rembrandt cemented a place in my heart when I learned, through a PBS documentary, of his use of touch in painting the love of his life in his last years. He was, I was told, passionately and fervently in love with this young woman who went from a role as his housekeeper, to his model, then to his common-law wife. He doted on and adored everything about her and his sentiments (by all record) was reciprocated. He loved to paint her image… every feature of her was an inspiration to him.

And the fact that won me over to his camp as an ardent admirer of him as a man, was the method used by him to translate her image… the details of all that he adored as he gazed upon her… onto the canvas. He applied the oils with his fingers. Think about that. The sensing touch that so craved the feel of the love of his life as she modeled before him… that force that drew his hands to an appreciation of every line, curve, and element of the object of his desire and joy… was expressed on the canvas through the oils that he blended, spread, and textured there. Now, you can see why I have written this article interspersed amongst his paintings of her. And perhaps you too can appreciate, with me, his communicated messages in his work with a fuller depth of satisfaction.

So… My Dear Reader… you have, before you, some new material for your contemplation. I do sincerely hope that my sharing some of the nuggets of my interests serves to open the windows of your mind and soul to new and stimulating breezes of possibility.

And, perhaps you will, in the words of an old telephone company advertisement, “Reach Out And Touch Someone”…


IMAGES: Top (hand); Maria Brandstetter, BBC: Rembrandts; Public Domain

Life's Encouragements

During my twenty years of self-imposed “responsible confinement”, I was sustained by infrequent, but always timely, encouragements from Life. And, you will note, that is Life, with a capital ’L.’ Signifying that Power, that Source, that One in whom we all have our disparate beliefs centered. As I was blessed to learn from the late Joseph Campbell, the famous scholar, teacher, and author; regardless of secular nomenclature, all of mankind has, over all recorded history, acknowledged its recognition of The Numinous, the I Am.

And that One, that Father of us all is, as my experience has taught me, loving, compassionate, and ultimately kind. And experience, My Dear Friend, is the consummate affirmation of that truth. When Joseph Campbell was interviewed by Bill Moyers, for a series that is often presented by Public Television, he responded to Bill Moyers’ question “Are you a Believer?” with “A Believer is someone who has not experienced that in which he believes. I am fortunate to be experienced, so I do not have to rely simply on belief.” And, therein, My Friend, lies the foundation for my appreciation of the goodness of The Almighty. For, in my experience, when despair was at my doorstep and hope was beyond sight, there would appear … unbidden, unexpected, and without any initiation on my part, an Angel of kind mercy to lift me from that muck and mire that I felt myself sinking into … and set me on a firmer footing of encouraged and renewed hope.

While those of secular religious practice, of varied description, would decry my declaration that the Creator of the universes and Author of their various texts and scriptures, would reach into my miseries and lift my soul’s despair by means of what they would consider condemnable … my experience has taught me that the One who is the Author of “every good and perfect gift” knows, beyond my simple abilities to comprehend, what is best for and most needed by my spirit. And I am humbly grateful for, and eternally honoring of those rare, but timely, rescues of my spirit, from unbearable anguish. And it would be irresponsible, and an act of dishonoring ingratitude, if I failed to share the encouragements of my experiences with you. So … consider it done.

Sharing

So ... what goes through the mind of that weird guy who drives around your neighborhood, in the early-morning, pre-dawn, hours ... throwing those newspapers from his vehicle onto your driveway? Well, My Friend, here is what was happening between my ears as I made my rounds this morning.

It is my fervent hope that I never again find my

Self subjected to the agony of sharing … a bed,

with someone who is completely indifferent to my

presence … an automobile drive, in the company of

someone who elects to stare in silent declaration

of their unspoken desire to be elsewhere, with

anyone other than me … a dinner, or café table,

with someone who is merely attending to the

necessity of a meal and only enduring my

presence as a obligation … a romantic dance,

in the arms of one who is distanced from me by

rejection of my individuality … a concert, movie, or

play, with someone who doesn’t sense the emotion,

passion, or beauty of the experience with me …

any precious moment, engaged in any sort or

variety of enterprise, with anyone whose thoughts,

inclinations, and motivations are directed away

from that time with me.

That really doesn’t seem like an unreasonable

set of desires … does it?


And there you have it! Your very own "listen in" to my mind's meanderings this morning. One never knows where One's Muse will lead.

Foot-Washing

Towel and basin in hand, I await visitors to this site … that I might “wash their feet”, and remove some of the caked-on, unwholesome, and unpleasant deposits, that each of us tend to acquire in our daily walk. And then … when all that would impede our return to the state of comfort and enjoyment that we knew, when we last met, has been cleansed away … I relish the thought that you (each and every one of you who grant us a moment together) and I can celebrate (if even for the most brief of moments) our spiritual kinship.

This is the picture that the scriptures paint. The image of One who is “cleansed” of all that lies without the confines of a particular place of sanctuary … having to go back out into the madness, mayhem, anger, fear, and confusions of the world outside. Then, upon returning to that place set aside for an intimate harmony with souls sharing common bonds of affection, understanding, and agreement … that One is invited to allow one of their Kindred to give them the gracious and generous gift of symbolically “washing away” all that would hinder their oneness of spirit together.

And … please take particular note here … it is the one, who has remained in the unsoiled atmosphere of the shared place of refuge, who insists on washing the feet of the other who has spoiled themselves in their other-worldly enterprises. The one who has enjoyed the safety and comfort of shelter does not demand of the traveler “Why can’t you leave that work stuff at work!?” or “Why must you bring all of those problems home with you!?” Nor are there recriminations for the very fact that the traveler has, indeed, actually picked up layers of accumulated detritus whilst going about their outside business. There are no condemnations of “You were free of those entanglements, those inappropriate behaviors, those commissions of wrong-doing, when you left. How can you be so unreliable and weak as to bring all of that into our place!?” Oh, no, My Dear Reader, there is a spirit of healing, serving, and forgiving acceptance in washing away someone else’s “dirt.”

And this is the province of the one welcoming the traveler home. With a quiet embrace … a foot massage that relieves the tensions and pains acquired whilst going about all of those endless chores, deliveries, appointments, and meetings. A favorite beverage … offered in silent love with the gentlest of smiles. Inviting the children to busy themselves elsewhere whilst she, or he, takes a moment of respite. All possibilities in “foot-washing.” That they might rekindle, renew, and, again enjoy, what is most precious and lasting … their oneness in spirit.

This lesson was demonstrated, in scripture, with the story of Jesus insisting on washing the feet of one of his disciples. The disciple was most indignant and demanded that the one who was considered to be Master should never wash the feet of the one who assumed the role of servant. And Jesus made the point that I have been seeking to convey, when he told his disciple that they could never know the joys of an unblemished and perfect oneness of spirit unless the Master be willing to wash the feet of the Servant ... and the Servant be willing to humbly accept the washing. Which reminds me of my version of an old adage “There are no big “I’s”, nor little “U’s” in the alphabet of a loving relationship."

So, Dear One, please allow me the honor … the profound compliment … of washing away from your spirit-feet, all of life’s clutter, anxieties, fears, and confusions (or at the very least rinse the excess away) … with each photo, word of reflection, poem, and insight that I humbly make available here … as you return for each of your kind and caring visits to this … my little blog-sanctuary. To that end, I happily remain, Your willing Servant and faithful Friend.

Improbable Plantings

Those tiny, seemingly-fragile plants! How can they possibly manage to grow … even beyond that … actually thrive, on the surface of such inhospitable and daunting boulders? How can that beauty and delicacy, that is theirs, present itself on a stage so forbidding? While I relish the innate reflex of sensory celebration of this miniscule presentation … I hear that quiet whisper of my Muse, “What you see there is a portrait of every healthy relationship. And even the elements of a healthy absence of relationship.” And I pay heed to more than the visual stimuli offered.

I see that the very inhospitable nature of those deposits from one of natures past upheavals, provides a barrier against any would-be intruders that would threaten the plants calling this place home. Had that tender plant been attempting life in some other environ, all manner of more dominant species would present a constant danger to survival. And, yes, I have known such relationships. Unions in which the severity of one mate protects the other from life’s predators.

And I am made aware of the irrigation equilibrium provided by the rock’s surface. Here, beneath the constancy of the waterfall’s flow, all of the moisture, that would saturate the soils of other settings, is kept in balance by the continual drainage of the stone surface. Likewise, the mate who does not become drenched in their partner’s life dramas, be they familial, career, or social, can, certainly offer such an outlet for potential emotional, mental, or even physical overload. Thereby mitigating the potential drowning that would threaten their over-absorbent partner.

And, I am reminded, there are merits to being in something of a solitary situation. A lone specimen, isolated from a bed of others of my ilk. For I do find that the absence, of the responsibilities of a relationship, serves to open windows of possibilities that give me opportunity for my own growth and individual examination and development. While I am absent the array of possibillities found in a bouquet ... I do realize the full sunlight and undiluted assets of every day.

Is this the “ideal” location for the propagation of such plants? Certainly not! Would these plants (if capable of making a rational, informed choice) elect this environment for their life-setting? I would seriously doubt it. Just as I see couples who are struggling with the “garden” in which they find themselves yearning to blossom. As surely as those precious little plants are seeking to make the most of a seemingly hostile patch of life … many are the relationships in which one or both partners are searching for some discernable element of their setting that will support healthy, vibrant growth. And those of us who are single, would often not elect this for our state. For, My Dear Reader, ’tis just as true for us human folk as for those improbable little plants … sometimes, we, for countless, myriad reasons … have, as our lot, the challenge to simply grow, blossom, and produce beauty where circumstance has planted us. And, it is my sincere hope that I can make available just a bit of the by-product of my musings to help nurture, encourage, and sustain your personal growth in, and enjoyment of, your individual surroundings.

For … as we can plainly see evidenced … extraordinary beauty and wonder is possible from the mating of even these most unlikely of contrariant elements. As Alexander Pope said “Hope springs eternal in the human breast.”

And all of this, these little illustrations of “Life Stuff”, is right here. Demonstrated in Theater that is beyond peer. I am now not only delighted with this photo’s sensorial delights … but pleased with a bit of a fresh insight. And all because I am willing to listen … to Life’s whisper.



IMAGE is yet another of Jon Sullivan's amazing works available from PDPhoto.org

No Bounds

Yet another reflexive response to one of Jon Sullivan's wonderful works ...

“Where does it end?”
“Tell me … show me the limits … that I may prepare.”
To these concerns I can tell you, My Love.
There is no end

Go ahead … look to your left … and your right …
Gaze, to the limits of your vision, into the heavens above.
And you will still find … beyond every horizon …
Past all of the clouds, stars, moons, and vapors …
That my love for you knows no bounds.

So rest, My Dear, and be at comfort.
Take refuge in the steadfastness of my devotion.
Fear no circumstance … be anxious for no happening.
For my adoration rests on neither whimsy nor fanciful chance.
But is cemented in my simple election to give, to you … Me.

IMAGE through the union of generosity and talent in Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org