My Morning Chapel

One of my very favorite songs is the old hymn "In the Garden." Part of it goes, "I come to the Garden alone ... while the dew is still on the roses."


Though this morning's dew is found clinging to magnolia blossoms, Spanish moss, and grasses and ground cover ...


I still felt my Spirit celebrating oneness with all that is eternal and holy.



I invite you to 'worship' with me ...

Amen!

The Moods of Sunrise on Lake Platt

I invite You to take a brief Moment ...

There!

I do, truly, hope that You allowed your Self the enjoyment of a deep breath ...
and, perhaps, even a sigh.

I thank You for sharing this Moment with me.

Lovingly ...

Her Effect

Passing loveliness ...

Fleeting chord ...

Wafting fragrance ...

Tingling air ...

Striking colors ...

All elicit response.

Now here ... then gone.

Impact ... then Memory.

Impression ... then afterglow.

Lofty peak ... then soft meadow.

Such is her effect.

The Mist that was her Presence.

The vapor that lingers.

She touched me.


John-Michael
4 May 2010

Be Still ...

“Know thyself”
Ascribed to: Plato, Pythagoras, and Socrates

“The spirit is the true self”
Cicero (MarcusTulliusCicero[106-43 BC])

“This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
William Shakespeare(1564-1616)Hamlet(1601)

Let’s take a moment to consider our least known, but most valuable personal resource. That whisper that speaks to you in the stillness of your aloneness. But, pay heed... you have as a constant “resource” a multitude of voices that would try to convince you that all of the inclinations of your heart (the revelations of that frequently referred to, still. small inner voice) are “deceitful.” This white-bearded old man is here to tell you, in the strongest and most confidently clear voice imaginable, “value YOUR inner messenger.” This “still, small voice” is not emotion, or mood… not feelings or sentiment… but the insight and cognizance born of That which is beyond us. Do not allow outside voices to erode your confidence in the worth of either you (just exactly as you were created) or the Spirit to which you have committed the expression of yourself.

Here is a real-life story that reinforced my certainty in the worth of our inner voice. It was presented in a documentary dealing with a British anthropologist who went to the Bush to study a group of Aboriginal peoples. His specific interest became the Shaman or Medicine Man of the group. By the standard of the Westernized scientific world from which this academic came, this Shaman was as unimpressive as could possibly be imagined. He had but a few teeth remaining, a small stature, skin that made a crocodile’s look fair, but eyes that revealed the universe with a smile that compelled complete trust and confidence. The Shaman looked into the camera and said “I go to my places by the same path again and again. But sometimes my inner voice tells me ‘today a man waits for you with a sharp spear. Take another path today.’” And the Shaman’s face folded into a smiling cacophony of wrinkles as he concluded, “I have never met a man with a sharp spear.”

He always, without questioning, doubt, or hesitation, took the different path. He paid heed to the Spiritual message delivered as a quiet whisper to his consciousness. I was personally sold on the merit of this man’s inner voice when the documentarian closed his presentation with the fact that the anthropologist abandoned his previous life to become the disciple of the Shaman.

I am continually reminded, by Life’s frequent gifts to me, of the far-reaching value of “Be still and know…” For it is only in stillness that we can really hear. In that documentary, I heard my Spirit saying “listen, pay heed, and proceed with confidence in your trust of Me.”

Don’t you see? The Shaman didn’t inquire of his tribesmen, nor did he
examine the trail for forensic evidence. He went through no religious or ceremonial rites, nor did he wait for a study of the choice at hand. He simply listened to his inner voice and responded with confidence in Its distinct directive. It is so for me when I reach a point where I can tell that I have read all that I have need of reading, I have discussed all that is required to clarify my thinking, and I need only to allow that inner Resource to sift through all of the materials installed in my mental, emotional and spiritual archives to present the message for that present moment in my life… to “Be still and know…” Herein lies the wonder of BEING. That is the being of ME. The ME that answers for and accepts the responsibility for responding to Life’s prompts. The ME that is eternal.

IMAGE through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, Freefoto.com

Revisiting "When We Meet"

(Just because I wanted to) [smile]

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

Prelude to "The Magician's Blanket"

My wife asked me (more than once) why I felt compelled to tell my world about all that was most personal and private in my life. I remember, quite clearly, responding with something closely akin to “My experiences are the only things that I am the authority on. Only I can speak of the intricate details and elements that surround my experiences. And if any part of what I have lived can be used by anyone to make their life easier, less painful, better understood, or more enjoyable or happier … then I will not exercise some sense of protective selfishness in denying that person, or those persons, a gentler, more satisfying, or joyful moment in their pilgrimage. This is all that I am capable of giving … and I will not hesitate in giving it.” My answer did not assuage her desire to cloister her life from the knowing of others. But that is her choice. You, Dear Reader, know mine.

That said, I am responding to the urging of Lady Muse … and giving, here, some of the details surrounding my earlier “The Magician’s Blanket” post.

Breakfast at our favorite Diner had been previously planned … and (after my morning run) it was there that I went (still wearing perspiration soaked sweat-clothes) and found my business Partner in a booth with two young ladies.

“Here we go again!” I thought. Knowing my Partner to be the most charismatic and accomplished “Gamer” that I had ever met (and he still, to this day, holds that ‘distinction’), there was no shock at seeing him fully engaged in his favorite sport.

He introduced me to the two … one, the glamorous and finely turned out woman who was obviously accustomed to being the center of attention … the other, a very pretty young woman who was the filling the role as “companion to the Looker” that I too was familiar with in my social and business engagements with my associate and friend.

So, here we were … the two of them happily playing their well-rehearsed, and finely polished, game with each other (something akin to two creatures strutting their finery at the peak of mating season … determining whether there would be a conjugal conclusion that would be chalked up as one more on their sizable scorecards) … and the two sidekicks who had heard and seen it all far more times than could be tallied.

She and I said little … quiet looks exchanged … smiles and rolling of eyes that said volumes of understood knowing.

Then the two leading characters in our little play decided to move the production to the apartment that the two girls shared. It seemed that they planned to move to a new address in the near future. Mister Mover (pun intended) suggested that he and I (my participation was an easily assumed given [in his estimation]) wanted to survey the size and scope of the proposed move (the furniture, and etcetera … not the unspoken, but well understood ‘move’ that both he and she were sparring around). Thus we left the diner. Mister Smooth and Miss Glamour in his new, sporty, and very trendy car … and (by default) the two attachés in the second car.

Much like two ‘Seconds’ at a duel or sporting event, She and I accompanied our ‘Star Players’ as they continued their jocular joust.

But this time … something new and unanticipated was happening ... the magic of a drawing bond between us. It was first evidenced by our gently, quietly, and quite naturally taking each other’s hand as we walked to the car. We attributed it to the cold and our need to share some warmth. It was so appropriate and right that we continued holding each others' hand throughout the ride to the apartment.

Then, as The Two continued their ongoing sport, the two of us sat next to each other on the earlier-mentioned sofa … and talked. I still remember (these 30+ years later) what we talked about. This unassuming and delicate creature enjoyed her weekends driving a huge, four-wheel-drive pickup truck in “mud-boggin” competitions. I was amazed! And appalled. The thought of people purposefully abusing and misusing equipment and/or machinery was something that I could not countenance. My Dad had programmed me to respect, care for, pamper, and always protect all things of mechanical or technical nature. I could not fathom someone going into a deep mud-filled swamp with a beautiful piece of finely engineered machinery and, with intent and forethought, try to see how much abuse and challenge they could get their truck to survive. So, we talked, at length, about every aspect of this avocation. She was as amazed at my concern for her truck … and for her personal safety and well-being. An invisible chamber, of private seclusion, formed around us, as we shared perspectives.

It was quite cold in the apartment … so we employed the blanket spoken of in the earlier post. Then, after a while of celebrating the silent, yet eloquent, communication that can be known in holding hands (something that I will yearn for ‘til my last breath) ... without words, a kiss.

The noise of silliness coming from the others became almost an embarrassment … so we pulled the blanket up … over our heads … and formed the magical cocoon that I have spoken of. The rest I have already shared. (Save our, eventually, agreeing that we should go upstairs and “survey the bedroom furnishings” in keeping with the advertised purpose of our being there.) [conspiratorial grin] The Two were so wrapped up in their game that they assumed that their sidecar parties were simply attending to the mundanities that fringed their superficial frolics. (And we quietly giggled our appreciation of their self-absorption.)

So there, Dear Friends, is what is oft referred to as “The Rest of The Story.”

When I received an unexpected invitation to be a Friend (on a social networking site) to a lovely young woman, who I met recently, I happily agreed. She had made a very notable impression on me at our meeting. Beyond her obvious beauty, there was an evident depth of character … and something that rang familiar about her. So, I visited her profile … and was moved by a stirring that was profound and not understood. This 'stirring' kept me awake all night, with a powerful force that was beyond my understanding. It was most unsettling!

Then, in the stillness of early morning … with my first pot of coffee … it all came back. It was a bit over thirty years ago … this moment in my past … but crystalline clear. And I began to understand the similarities in my new friend, which brought that past treasure into my present.

I had met the young lady in question at a gathering of a group of friends … in a place that was very active and energetic … and she was a still pond in the midst of an active sea. There was a depth that was neither presumptuous nor disattached about her. … just as that precious woman had quietly and oh-so-beautifully displayed on that morning … so long ago.

And, on that morning of my recollection, as I recognized who my new friend reminded me of, I was engulfed in the the tsunami of recall that washed over me. It was overwhelming! And, at this writing … four days later … I am still dealing with tears welling up in waves of tender emotion and remembering. Sweet tears that taste of delight and peaceful joy. What a gift!

So, there you are, Dear Reader and Friend. I know not what benefit may be known, by some unknown Individual, from these revelations from my Library of Memory. But, trusting in the wisdom of my unfailing Lady Muse, and in keeping with that life commitment expressed to my former wife, I lay it all out there for the use of whomever may find some encouragement, insight, understanding, or even entertainment, in it. For, ‘tis still true that “My experience is all that I have to offer this world that I live in.”

And I do so … in love. [smile]

Andy Mackie ... "Harmonica Man"

Something that Steven (my sweet Little Brother) shared with me ...
and I simply MUST share with ... You!
Enjoy!
(I do love You, Ya know?!

The Magician's Blanket

Wrapped in that Blanket … the one recruited from the sofa that we shared … we became Subjects to the transforming powers of life’s Magician.

Concealed from all the world outside, we transformed into something of wonder and delight that had ne’er before been known.

Two people, who barely knew each others’ names …
we became a Oneness that shared a joyful pulse …
breathed a complimentary breath …

moved from the chill of the winter without … to a perspiration of sensual Tropics that existed only in the cocoon of our newly created world.

We touched … melded … melted into a warm liquid that flowed gently and easily over shores of receptive desires.

There were no Circumstances … no details … neither requirements nor responsibilities constraining our openness to each other.

There … on that sofa … in that little apartment … within the folds of that blanket’s security … we found Home.

All that was known then as Reality, has been blown away and scattered as the sands of the Sahara … no one grain known to any other.

What abides today … and lingers as Genuine … is the indelible Truth of our union.

Known to the rational and fact-encumbered mind, as “passing, fleeting, and momentary”... those moments have a legitimacy and substance that is as fresh now, as it was overwhelmingly present, then.

If only I could have had the presence of mind … the wisdom and maturity yet to come … to tell her that she was forever part of me … and wanted there.

But, alas, the cocoon melted away … the oasis of visited Bliss receded into the distance … circumstance and routine pulled us over inevitable horizons.

And here … today … I find us, and our envelope of satisfying fulfillment, comforting and evermore Precious.

(These are the reflections brought to the fore of my awareness, by a new Friend. My deepest and most sincerely admiring thanks to Her.)

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.

Less ... More

My Being is rendered utterly mute by the power of the blossom

I am speechless …

Without vocabulary to adequately express

I have neither thought nor voice …

Sufficient to do justice to her beauty

Then … with the removal of light, with all of its revelations

I enter the realm of another sort of experiential awe

This visitation is suggested by line and contrast

‘Tis the eloquent Silhouette … Mistress of the Minimal

In the absence of detail, my Spirit picks up its brush

Coloring the Image with my own imaginings

The Silhouette invites my fuller participation … deeply within

My spiritual Voice is freed to whisper … even sing … its offerings

I participate, even more fully than possible in the presence of detail

Can it be true … that what seems Less, can be so much … More

IMAGES:
Through the generous courtesy of Ian Britton, freefoto.com
Through the generous courtesy of Jon Sullivan, pdphoto.org
Through the generous courtesy of BBC News

Challenge Met

The Lady in the Sewing Crafts Store must have overheard the conversation between us. For, she could not resist interjecting herself into it. My questioning … and YES I confess, perhaps more than just a little bit of challenging … my wife, was more than the Owner of the shop could bear. “Well, Sir, if you think that creating a design (as opposed to the completion of the repetitious background to a pre-stitched design), and accomplishing the cross-stitching of that self-generated design, is something that your wife should be eager to attempt … perhaps you, Sir, would like to make that attempt yourself.”

Well! Here I was. On “foreign” turf … out of my “guy element” … and being challenged … even DARED … by this Lady, who was obviously rising to the defense of one of her faithful (and profitable) Customers. “I will make you this offer, Sir,” she continued, “If you will create your own original design for a cross-stitched panel … I will give you … cost-free … all of the materials necessary to complete the panel. And, further, if you manage to complete the piece … and return here with it … I will block and frame it for you … again, for free. “

There it was … in my face … my young wife (this was somewhere around 1971, and we had been married for less than 4 years) and this Lady, who I had never, prior to this encounter, met … staring at me with determined faces and mutually flinty glares. Was I to fold under the pressure … acknowledge my error in speaking from a stance of uninformed and uneducated ignorance … back down and surrender to this challenge of the ‘merits’ of my opinions as earlier, so strongly stated? Not no … but HELL NO!

So I looked about for some inspiration for an idea of a, yet undreamed of, ‘design.’ And my eyes fell on the little pin that I wore in the lapel of my jacket. A ‘*Reddy Kilowatt.’ The iconic image that bespoke the industry that I worked in … The Electric Company.


So, I told the Lady that I would create a Reddy Kilowatt cross-stitched panel. She asked what colours I would require … and made good on her offer of a bag full of materials … the likes of which I had never before set hand (or mind … if I had a mind at all) to.

Making this potentially long story as short as possible … I drew out the design … cross-stitched the panel … returned, with it, to the Shop … held it, victoriously, before the shop’s Owner … and she made good on her offer. She did indeed, as you can see, block and frame it … for free!

(Notice … the “Peace Sign” that I substituted for the Icon’s pointing finger.
Yes! I was a bit of a Liberal, Free Spirit, even then!
And … again, Yes! It does still hang on my wall. [Silly grin])

All of this long-ago memory came to the fore as I enjoyed the beautiful works shown so generously on SAHARA's site. (I visited there because I like to know as much as I can about those who compliment me by following the meanderings of my funky mind.) So, Dear SAHARA , please know that my appreciation, and enjoyment, of your creative gifts is substantiated, and to a small degree, validated, by a very small taste of actual “hands on” experience with something, at least remotely, akin to what you, so marvelously, do. [Smile]



*Reddy Kilowatt is a cartoon character that acted as corporate promoter/spokesman, for electricity generation and usage, in the United States, for some six decades.
Reddy Kilowatt is drawn as a stick figure whose body and limbs are made of “lightning bolt " symbols and whose bulbous head has a light bulb for a nose and sockets for ears. Reddy was created at the Alabama Power Company by Ashton B. Collins, Sr., and debuted March 11, 1926. He was subsequently licensed by some 300 electrical companies in the U.S. and abroad looking to sell homes on using the relatively new technology. He was featured in a 1947 comic book and movie produced by the studio of Walter Lantz. Reddy Kilowatt was a frequent presence in publicity material until energy conservation replaced energy production as a national goal with the growth of the environmental movement and the OPEC oil embargo. He is now rarely seen. In 1998, Reddy was bought by Northern States Power Company, which created an entire subsidiary, Reddy Kilowatt Corp., to manage the cartoon.
The Facilities Maintenance arm of Temple University, in Philadelphia, still applies Reddy's image to vehicles equipped to perform high voltage maintenance work within the university.


(Edited) Source Article: Wikipedia

Scenic Overlook

There are, along the way, places set
aside… not destinations in and of
themselves, but places for pulling over;
taking a respite from the pace of the
journey; and reflecting, in the
momentary interlude, on the majesty,
grandeur, and all-encompassing scope
of where we have been ... are now ...
and are going.

These oases are dubbed
“Scenic Overlook” by the signposts
announcing their proximity and
availability. While taking advantage
of them the traveler is afforded the
opportunity to survey his place in
the scheme and 'landscape' of his world, as it is, at that moment.






I realize that I am a “Scenic Overlook”
in the life journey of many, whose
paths have been directed my way.

I am not registered on their itinerary
nor am I considered as one of those
places of note when they recount
their travels to others. But I, when
utilized, present, to them, a new
perspective on their pilgrimage ...
provide new appreciation for their
past ... make available a fresh awareness of their present ...
and project hitherto unknown possibilities for their futures.

This is my ministry… my calling…
my gift to the world that I am allowed
to embrace.







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

Gulf and Shore

The Gulf of Mexico … the Florida shore

Two Dancers, well acquainted and Familiar

Choreographed by forces neither seen nor named

Repeating their to-and-fro’s in rhythmic perfection

Moving to Life’s pulse … that knows no hurry

My whole Being falls into step with their metronomic sway

Inhale, exhale … to their surge, retreat

The tiniest bubbles, of foam, form on the sands

And now flow, in intimate recognition, from my eyes

John-Michael

16 March 2010

Transcendental Image

I hear the cry of that delicate Voice within
Its tender entreaty to allow just a fleeting Moment
A soft sigh of Desire wanting recognition

Over the mean growling of a worn body’s pains
In spite of insistent stiffness and stumbling lack of grace
A Presence of balletic freedom and gymnastic flight
Takes hold of my Awareness and transports my Being

I am beside that enchanting little Brook
Hearing the busy giggles and snickers issued by gurgling waters
Inhaling all that tells of Promise and Hope
In the delicious freshness of the air

Lounging in tender grasses that know only this Now
Though their seed understands all Yesterdays
Accompanied by the spontaneity of tiny creatures
Flying and flitting about in response to immediate inclination

And, looking upstream, I allow that the still Pond formed there
Will be a receptive and welcoming Hostess
Receiving me with gentlest caresses and caring comforts

So here am I … canopied by swaying, breathing, playful branches
Absent all that would hold me in discomfort or discouragement
Embracing and delighting in Life’s Gift
Of this Transcendental Image

IMAGE: With my grateful appreciation for the Skills, and Spirit, of Jon Sullivan, pdphoto.org

Mystery Escape

I occasionally feel the need to “go away.” This I accomplish by visiting my Mind to distant Places. Thankfully, the Web offers many Photos of many lovely Places that combine my yearning for waterside locales, with my desire to be surrounded by natural serenity and solitude.

I want to share such an “Escape” with You, my Darling Friend.

To make it a bit more entertaining (for me [tee-hee]),
I will not tell you where this Place is.

I will tell You that this Place has been a sovereign Principality since the Late Middle Ages. It saw its independence formally recognized in 1878 then, from 1911, was part of various incarnations of a single State composed of several Republics. The last vestiges of that association ended on 3 June 2006 when it, once again, declared its independence.

Go ahead … guess.

And thank You for sharing a Moment with Me.