There Is No Death

Life knew of Dee’s loss. I did not. So, when I discovered the complete text of a poem that I had previously known of only in part … I simply smiled a knowing smile and expected that Life would soon tell me why it was important that I mark the page in the book of poetry. Not more than an hour later, I read an Email from one of my dearest of friends, Carole, and she asked that I prayerfully keep Dee in my thoughts. For, just this Tuesday, she lost her Dad.

There was neither question nor hesitation to turn to the marked page, type the poem, and place it here … to encourage Dee’s heart … respond to Carole’s love for her friend … and provide yet another example of the wondrous workings of Life’s Spirit when we will but be available and responsive to its Voice.

Please accept this work by J. L. MCCREERY … my gift to Dee, Carole, and to You, my dear Reader.

THERE IS NO DEATH

There is no death! The stars go down
To rise upon some other shore,
And bright in heaven’s jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.

There is no death! The forest leaves
Convert to life the viewless air;
The rocks disorganize to feed
The hungry moss they bear.

There is no death! The dust we tread
Shall change, beneath the summer showers
To golden grain, or mellowed fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

There is no death! The choicest gifts
That heaven hath kindly lent to earth
Are ever first to seek again
The country of their birth.

And all things that for growth or joy
Are worthy of our love or care,
Whose loss has left us desolate,
Are safely garnered there.

Though life become a desert waste,
We know its fairest, sweetest flowers,
Transplanted into paradise,
Adorn immortal bowers.

The voice of birdlike melody
That we have missed and mourned so long,
Now mingles with the angel choir
In everlasting song.

There is no death! Although we grieve
When beautiful, familiar forms
That we have learned to love are torn
From our embracing arms …

Although with bowed and breaking heart,
With sable garb and silent tread,
We bear the senseless dust to rest,
And say that they are “dead,”

They are not dead! They have but passed
Beyond the mists that blind us here
Into the new and larger life
Of that serener sphere.

They have but dropped their robe of clay
To put their shining raiment on;
They have not wandered far away …
They are not “lost” nor “gone.”

Though disenthralled and glorified
They still are here and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
They never can forget.

And sometimes, when our hearts grow faint
Amid temptations fierce and deep,
Or when the wildly raging waves
Of grief or passion sweep,

We feel upon our fevered brow
Their gentle touch, their breath of balm;
Their arms enfold us, and our hearts
Grow comforted and calm.

And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear, immortal spirits tread …
For all the boundless universe
Is Life … there are no dead!

J L MCCREERY

Your Life's Meaning

“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.

Empty Nest

Having, in love, cared for, nurtured, and celebrated the gift, to my life, of a few, very special, beautiful, and unique 'injured birds' ...





Enabling them, each
in their own time …
with my unreserved
support and encouragement … and following their own individual inclinations …
to fly away …


I am, now, alone …
save the accumulated
feathers of marvelous,
colorful, and sacred
memories.






IMAGES: (upper to lower), www.iaw.on.ca, www.pionusparrot.com, www.terryco.us

Alien

My life pathway occasionally intersects that of a person who has touched my core … and my soul aches for her. For, what I hear from her is a crying Spirit that is lost … and I am intimately familiar with that pain. Whilst my miseries are something of my past, the awareness of feeling as an Alien in my personal world is forever fresh. Thusly, I am doing the only thing that I can for this young woman … I am telling her, here, that she is known … she is heard … and she is loved. And she is, above all, not alone.

Alien

An alien to all that constitutes her environment …
Wanting … no, Needing to find a place of comfort …
Plagued by her exceptional capacities carried within her notable qualities,
She cannot naturally meld into the safety of obscure anonymity.

So she must camouflage herself with defacements common to the others,
Assume the language and behaviors that conceal her innate endowments,
And avoid any challenges to the legitimacy of her portrayal …
Most importantly, challenges borne of her own awareness.

Unknown to her, the others find validation for their behaviors,
In her degradation of her appearance and demeanor.
For they all see the extraordinary gifts that are naturally hers,
Making their shared cycles of mimicry for comfort, an endless waste.

Only in those still, lone, and quiet moments of painful reflection,
Does she find herself confronted with unidentified frustrations,
As dissatisfaction, and Self loathing drive her to Self punishment.
Inflicting wounds … tangible, real, and knowable … for all else is too dark and unknowable … while these are accepted as deserved flagellations.

Hidden Spirits

“How do you lift spirits that are hiding and refusing to come out?”

This is the question directed to me by a new acquaintance last week. And, before I could respond, the person initiating the question informed me that they had decided to retreat behind the walls of their familiar fortress of sarcasm and feign indifference to the matter.

I am left, therefore, to offer an answer to the question, posed in a moment of fleeting openness, and hope that even if that person does not choose to consider it … perhaps Life has someone else at a point of readiness or need for this thought. For, I readily recall that on more than one instance, in my own life, the same perplexing query challenged my mind. So, I ask that you consider, with me, the possibilities in this idea.

For, My Dear Friend, the answer to why we have some aspect of our Self “hiding” and not allowing our conscious awareness to address it … just may simply be … Fear. That’s right … we do indeed hide parts of ourselves away from the dangers of ridicule, rejection, disapproval, and belittlement. And, unfortunately, the source of all of those negative responses is, all too often, ourselves. So we are saving ourselves the perceived possibly of conflict with ourselves … as well as all of the world round about us. Which leaves us still with the question … “What to do?”

The easy (yes … it can, indeed, be easy) answer is … create an environment that will be supportive, respectful, and honoring of all elements of our particular and individual inclinations, appetites, opinions, and persuasions. Generate a space, in thought and in practice, that validates the innate worth of that “spirit” that is seeking the shelter and protection of concealment. Accept and then rest in the knowledge that every element of each of us has merit. And should be treated with dignity and respect (whether it is socially, politically, or culturally “correct”, or not.)

To the rescue; Dr. Edwin O. Timmons of L.S.U. (Louisiana State University.) Now settle back a bit and consider, with me, what Dr. Timmons had to offer. He illustrated this conflict between the all-inclusive ME and the ME that I allow myself to acknowledge, and make known to others… as an ONION. That’s right, your garden variety vegetable (or whatever an onion is.) It was his idea that if we were to chart a description of our natural Creator-given traits and connected the points on that chart with a line we would have our true inner selves represented by what he called “our inner zigzag.” Pretty high-tech stuff huh? Bear with us now, it gets better, I promise. Let’s suppose that when we first make some expression of our little “zigzag” our expression is met (probably by Mommy) with some form of rejection or reproof “no, no, mustn’t do that…” We, for the first time in our fledgling experience, modify our behavior to avoid conflict or gain acceptance and/or approval. This “layer of behavior” Dr. Timmons referred to as an “onionskin” of behavior put in place to protect our ever-sensitive “zigzag.” That “spirit” that we hide away behind our protective “onionskins.”

Over the years of our lives, we develop, through countless experiences with innumerable persons in myriad circumstances, an infinite number of these layers of behaviors that insulate our inner-selves from any chance of hurt to ourselves or offense to others to whom we feel responsible. So what my friends recognized as ME … and I permit myself to accept an awareness of … was the carefully accumulated “onion” that I, with the best of intent, had painstakingly surrounded my fragile inner spirit-self with. This is what I give license to be perceived from without.

Now … with this insight, perhaps we can relax a bit, and put out a “welcome mat” for those aspects of our Being that have been, heretofore, so painfully repressed. “It’s all cool!” we can tell ourselves, “All that I am is valuable and worthy of my acceptance, respect, and yes, even celebration. And I will accept nothing less from those who would be my life companions. What I am, and who I am is my gift from the Creator. And I am grateful.”

With my sincere gratitude to the One who sent that original question to me … and my loving desire for those who may benefit from this little insight to find something of use in my expression … I bid you, Dear Reader, all kindness and happiness as we walk this life-path together.

Living

I share my celebration of my brother, Steven, with you today. For, you see, he is an embodiment, of this poem, who I appreciate an intimate knowledge of. And, in knowing him, I know a pleasure and delight that makes my life richer and happier.

Living
(author unknown)

To touch the Cup with eager lips and taste, not drain it;
To woo and tempt and court a Bliss … and not attain it;
To fondle and caress a Joy, yet hold it lightly,
Lest it become a necessity and cling too tightly;
To watch the sun set in the west without regretting;
To hail its advent in the east … the night forgetting;
To smother care in happiness and grief in laughter;
To hold the present close … not questioning hereafter;
To have enough to share … to know the joy of giving;
To thrill with all the sweets of life … is living.

IMAGE Steve Rannie (viewer), BBC News

View of Life

Some call it a “Romantic” view of life. They insist that to see the beauty, to hear the harmonies, to feel the gentleness and opt for kindness is to be “unrealistic” in perspective.
Their argument would have us devalue the very real presence of life’s best. But alas, Dear Friend, for us to adhere to what is proclaimed by news media, public forum, and religious rantings as the “factual” and deny the always-present good and lovely … is to harden our Spirit’s ability to respond to the elements of living that nurture, encourage, stimulate, and enliven its existence.

I choose (and it is, My Friend, a matter of individual choice) to embrace every small moment of joy … to proclaim the merits of all that is beautiful …
to encourage and celebrate each act of kindness, thoughtfulness, loving generosity, and selflessness that I am aware of … to all of the world that is so starved for hope, happiness, peace, and loveliness.

Does this mean that this old Romantic is oblivious to the overabundance of mean, unkind, greedy, ugly, and even evil forces and influences that are a constant presence all about us all? Certainly not, Dear One! All of those aspects of life on this ever-shrinking globe are options that constantly clamor for my focus … but I choose to protect my soul from the excessive pain, discomfort, and agony that would accompany my opening of my Self to their influence.

Again, it is a matter of disciplined election.

So, in keeping with that understanding, I send these hope-filled, spirit-stirring, and deliciously inviting images to your Soul and Spirit today.

Because I do, indeed, love You … and am committed to contributing all that I can, to a joyful and peaceful Today … for You.

These IMAGES through the gracious courtesies of Ian Britton (upper and lower images), FreeFoto.com; and Jon Sullivan (center 2 images), PDPhoto.org

Beneath the Surface

As you begin this new week ... please allow me to challenge you to slow yourself ... take a healthy, cleansing breath ... and go just a bit beneath the surface of the experiences offered to you by Life this week.

For, My Dear Reader, I promise you that there is beauty and exquisite wonder beneath that superficial conversation ... that surface phone call ... that exchange with co-worker, family member, neighbor, or friend. If you will but simply relax for a moment ... and permit yourself to drift with the current of the instant and discover the wonder that lies just beneath the surface of your life's fleeting happenings.

I am anxious to hear, from You, about the treasures that you find as you enjoy this exercise.

These IMAGES are from the BBC's presentation of winners of a photo competition sponsored by the conservation group Reef Check … celebrating special life forms found on Australia’s coral reefs. The UPPER IMAGE is by John Natoli, and the LOWER IMAGE by Justin Gilligan

Those Who Are Wronged

Whilst reading one of my favorite writers (Ken Follett) today, I came across an intriguing paradox that had the 'ring' of a quotation. I was impressed enough to search for the source ... and though I find the thought expressed by several ... none is attributed. It matters not ... for I have my own preference in stating the idea.

So, Dear Reader, whilst you enjoy this image gleaned from Jon Sullivan's travels to Ireland, I offer my perspective on the paradoxical idea gleaned from my reading. I ask that you consider, with me, the behaviors of those who have treated us shabbily ... and now act as though we have caused them some offense as victims of their misbehavior. I smile in rueful recognition. (enjoy the image!)

Those who are wronged … are never forgiven.

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

LadyBug

When the self-induced demands for more energies ... to apply to even more passion
generated needs …

Find themselves echoing off of the walls of my ‘resource well’, drained dry by my spent focus on more cries for caring than I can give Myself to …


I have learned (through the curriculum of painful and expensive experience) that I can find respite …

In Life’s littlest of romances.







One of my favorites is the romance that is generated by the presence of the humble Lady Bug.

I can find release and renewal in the unimposing and simple innocence of this tiny creature





Its beauty and honesty … free of any demands, expectations, requirements, or encumbrance …

Lightens my Soul’s burden … brightens my path … and encourages my Spirit … just by its mere existence.

So, My darling DM, and others of You who have had your ‘plate’ of Life loaded to overflowing this week …

Please accept this, my gift of a moment of tranquil serenity, as an expression of my loving appreciation of You and gratitude for the marvelous gift of this most-insignificantly wondrous of Life’s miniscule creations … These sweet little … Lady Bugs.

IMAGES (top to bottom) Kidzcraftz; PlanetNatural; Franklin; gtotem; St Michael's Abbey of the Norbertine Fathers

Acts Revisited

It has all culminated in darkness.
Though each impetus for thought was one born
of a past moment … each ripe with positive potential …
They all found their conclusion in an empty void.

The spotlight illuminating their future path
accompanied each participant, at the close of each act,
in my repertoire of life encounters.
As they, each in turn, turned from our dialogue,
and made their exit.

It is not as though I harbor an appetite for recurrent gloom.
For, whilst I am among those applauding
the ascension of each of former leading ladies …
I … even as the very least of Stagehands …
Yearn for my companion at the closing of the day’s production.

John-Michael
28 Sep 07

IMAGE: UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH DEPARTMENT OF THEATRE ARTS

Namaste

na·ma·ste
EXCLAM. a respectful greeting said when giving a namaskar.
namaskar
noun a traditional Indian greeting or gesture of respect, made by bringing the palms together before the face or chest and bowing
It began with my interrupting my newspaper deliveries by pulling to the side of the road, allowing the driver of the garbage collection truck to pull adjacent to the window of my van. He (having no idea who I was nor what this potentially annoying maneuver was all about) pulled cautiously up to my location. “Good morning My Friend … might I offer you a morning newspaper?” I offered. And as I did so, I looked him directly in the eye that he might see that my intention was to pay him respect, and offer him a kindness as an expression of that respect. His faced beamed pleasure, and he accepted my offer with a statement of appreciation. Which has been our commonly accepted and customary experience after these quick exchanges through the years since I initiated that first contact. (And neither of us has even learned the name of the other … that would be an unnecessary detail.)

Again, this morning, I pulled into his path and extended a copy of the newspaper out of my window … a mute salute and repetition of our, by now, many-times repeated exchange. After a rich, though fleeting moment of mutual recognition and honor (including the embracing of each other‘s extended forearm while exchanging “How are you?”s)… I drove away with an up-lifted spirit accompanied by a smile of satisfied pleasure. It was then that I recalled something learned, from Joseph Campbell’s writings, many years ago. The significance of a “namaste” moment.

Joseph Campbell rendered the definition of a namaste/namaskar moment as an outward expression of “The Spirit within me honors the Spirit within you.” I was moved to a deep appreciation of all that is encompassed by such a sentiment when I first read it. And have since incorporated it into my daily walk. For I am thrilled by the potentials and possibilities that such an attitude makes available to every encounter in life. And (though my gesture and words were not in accordance with tradition) that is exactly what I enjoyed this morning with the driver of that service vehicle. And I am compelled to relate it to you, My Dear Reader, and recommend the practice to the betterment of your personal walk.

I have, many times, offered the traditional gesture to Another … then to make clear the intent … told the recipient the meaning behind the gift. A moment of reflective appreciation is always the result. A seed of mutual respect and honor is planted in the mind and heart of another soul in my world. The cost is quite affordable. And the up-side potentials are inestimable.

So, Dear Friend, to you I offer my namaskar with “Namaste.” For I do, indeed honor that beautiful Spirit within you … which is a pleasurable aspect of loving you (which is, also, a choice that I am delighted to have made.)




IMAGE: The Moderate Voice

The One Amongst Thousands

With its beautifully stated, yet simple truth ... I offer this poem by Francis William Bourdillon ...

The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

The night has a thousand eyes,

And the day but one;



Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun.







The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one;



Yet the light of a whole life dies

When love is done.








IMAGES: (Stars) NASA/ Weekly Reader
(Setting Sun) Triad Mohammad (viewer), BBC News

Language

Language is what we use to process our thoughts. In fact, our thoughts are made known to us with the Language … the words, phrases, and expressions that we are familiar and comfortable with. It follows, then, that by increasing the depth of our reservoir of Language skills we expand the scope of ideas that we can explore … and communicate … firstly with ourselves, then with others.

It is my desire to introduce the Language of Love … of Intimacy … of Caring … into the world that I touch. In so doing, I hope to awaken an awareness of vistas of affection, respect, appreciation, and adoration for the marvelous Creations that we are. How wonderful it will be when we can look into a mirror … or into the face of another … and say “I love you” with the same comfort and ease that we have in criticizing or discounting the worth of that individual.

To that end … please accept my sincere “I love you” … to You. For, you see, I am convinced that we have shared this brief moment of your reading, not by chance … but as a gift from Life. And that gift is worthy of my love.

This my contribution to your lexicon of Language today.

Expression

From the earliest ... we have had a desire to express our innermost visions ... our perceptions ... our experiences. And to make known, to others, the truths, beliefs, values, and impressions that are ours. That the treasure of our having known Life ... will be theirs.

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