OK, I’ll Tell You

You have repeatedly asked (countless times over many years [usually silently]) “Why do you do that? Why do you insert yourself into the lives, circumstances, and private space of total strangers?” OK… I’ll tell you. It is because I have been alone for most of my life and I see your aloneness.

Yes, you and I have been surrounded by friends, colleagues, family, fellow worshipers, and companions, both passing and lasting. Yet we have been alone in our most intimate concerns, fears, doubts, wonderings, and apprehensions. I see you, when you are in the company of others who defer to your charisma; acquiesce to your projected confidence; still themselves to hear your voice; encourage your humor so that they can laugh, safely out of the limelight of prominence. And my heart hears the beat of your heart that is pounding out a message of ‘S.O.S.’ as it struggles with an isolation that is completely alien to the awareness of all about you.

And I recall, from my own storehouse of accumulated pain, the need that you have for an answer to your spoken and unspoken supplications to Life, as you have sought some word of comfort; some note of acknowledgement that Life is aware that you are struggling. “Here I am” I offer “You are heard … Life is with you … You are never alone … You are forever loved.”

This is my mission; my quest; my calling; to let you know that life knows you; hears you; is responding to you; has help, instruction, and encouragement for you. This I allow Life to use me to do … for you.

When I see your name in my address book; when I see your eyes in a crowd; when I see you across a busy restaurant; when I pass you in the market; in all of my life’s moments I am sensitive to you and available for you. I am yours … because I chose to give myself to you, long before we ever knew of each other. Our actual meeting was but a simple detail that I entrusted to Life. And here we are … in this moment… neither of us ever again alone. If we but accept the gift that is ‘Us.’ (“Thank You Life”)

So, perhaps, now you can be a bit more comfortable with this “Us” thing. I truly hope so. To that end, I remain, as always, your constant Friend and Servant,

John-Michael

31 January 2006

My Dialect

When I speak … I speak in the dialect of my Interlocutor.
When I write … I write in the dialect of my Soul.

The two are slowly ... tediously ... becoming one;
That I may know ... and be known.

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

Portrayals

This time, I have poured myself a tall glass of a very nice (though quite inexpensive [notice the avoidance of the word “cheap”]) wine as a “lubricant to writing.” I say “this time” because many have been the previous times that I have wanted to speak of this matter with you, Dear Reader. But it is just so “unmanly” … this whole subject.

In fact, it has occurred to me, for the very first time, this evening, that it smacks of Nana (God rest her Soul) calling up the stairs to her friend and long-term tenant, “Come on down. Our Programs are starting.” (The programs in question, being the daily, afternoon “Soaps.”) This was in the day of television’s early introduction to our lives, and few had one. So Nana would invite her friend to come down from her apartment to share in the experience of watching actors portray lives and circumstances that Nana would never … and I do mean NEVER! … participate in herself. In fact, would not want anyone to know that she had even the most remote interest in such goings on.

Where I feel that having this chat, with you here, in print, is “unmanly” … Nana would have considered her interest in (and, heaven forbid, enthusiastic involvement in watching) such “common” theatrics as unladylike (never allowed, under ANY circumstance), and perhaps even un-Christian (which could never be countenanced!) But I am brushing away my reservations because I want to share this element of myself with someone whom I have comfortable trust in. And let’s face it, if I can’t trust someone who is willing to wade through my verbal excesses, who can I trust?! [appreciative smile]

You see the thing is all about giving myself over to a portrayal. Yes … a portrayal! Every week I look forward to Saturday night (with repeats on Sunday night) so that I can surrender to the portrayal of romance, intimacy, friendship, conviviality, human exchange, and altogether very unvarnished and real relationships. All of this packaged and presented on PBS under the name of “As Time Goes By.”

Each week’s offering of this glorious presentation leaves me chuckling at human foibles, caring tenderness, blunders, forgiveness, acceptance, change, tradition, and on and on with the list of aspects of people loving, living with, and engaging other people. And I laugh, and very often cry. Tears of understanding, joy, empathy, longing, loss, emptiness, and yearnings without hope. All because the program (oops, there is Nana’s word!) portrays so eloquently and with such delicate honesty, all that I have always longed for … never had … and know will never be.

I would not presume to assign any definitions to Nana’s motivations for her enthusiasm for her programs any more than I would be so arrogant as to think myself qualified to explain the boxes of “romance novels” in the garage of one who is an avowed anti-intimacy devotee. (Something that I noticed [with considerable interest] as I visited that person, some years ago.) But I do “discuss” my passion for this presentation of all that I most fervently long for, with myself, each week.

I have a healthy understanding of the life-choices that I have made, and their natural consequences. I do not bemoan my state. I do, in fact respect the legitimacy of my circumstances, and my prospects. And, with equal respect, I appreciate all of the innate desires, appetites, inclinations, and proclivities that are a natural and legitimate part of who I am.

Thusly, I permit myself the weekly Gift of indulgence in “My Program.” Additionally, I invite you, my patient Friend, to give yourself the genuine treat of delightful enjoyment offered through excellent acting performed by outstanding artists (including, but not limited to Dame Judi Dench) on your PBS station (or on BBC, if available.)

Consider this my call up the ‘stairs’ that separate us, “Come on down. Our Programs are starting.”

Lovingly …

Words

Words! Too many of not the right ones.

Therein lies the difficulty. A debilitating insufficiency of the ‘right’ words. Not that I don’t know a fair quantity of words … but I am dismally frustrated by my ineptitude in discovering and implementing the ‘right’ … no, not the ‘right,’ (that’s too easy) … the PERFECT; yes, the absolutely perfect words to convey all of the scope and dimension of what I am sensing. That is what I am in search of. I want to use the very fewest, of the most perfect, words to clearly communicate the full depth and breadth of what I want understood between us. But, alas, I am reduced to a fumbling, awkward, semi-incompetent, in that quest.

I have a precious Friend in Greece (Athens, in fact) who holds a particularly unique place in my heart. I have made several clumsy attempts at communicating the nature of that place to her. I have used the words “romantic,” and “intimate,” in those attempts, hoping that she would respond with a request for some clarification of my thoughts … thereby (in my hopes) allowing me to (in the ensuing dialogue) develop some better means of illuminating what I feel as opposed to what is initially (in today’s vernacular) implied by those terms.

I want her to know that, with me, “romantic” encompasses my perception of all that I see and know around me. I am, in the truest sense, and at my temperamental core, a Romantic/Idealist. So, when I speak of sharing my most intimate, natural, and instinctive awareness of life … I am speaking of sharing my romantic and idealized view. I see, and know, life in romantic terms. All of life. Every element of life. This is my natural state.

Not that I do not have a grasp and understanding of al that is pragmatic and factually based. I am exceedingly aware and respectful of all that the world around me knows as “reality.” The world’s processing of and relationship to life’s circumstances and elements I equate with the PC (personal computer), left-brain, and majority dominant Microsoft operating system view … data-based and driven. I am equipped (by my loving Creator) with the minority “operating system.” My right-brain, Mac/Apple, spacial/image oriented relationship with life is what I live with.

My daily relationship with every element of my world (including each Individual and Circumstance that I encounter) is one of eternal and infinite significance. I, quite naturally, and comfortably, perceive everyone and everything through a “lens” that translates that Moment’s encounter in terms of its possibilities and potentials for a more beautiful, soul-satisfying, and eternally-lasting effect. This is my norm … my automatic, “default setting.”

When I discovered someone who, while very frugal with expression and the use of words, conveys a sense of richness of awareness, depth of character, sensitivity, and tenderness, I was jubilant. Someone who answered a question with a drawing … and in that drawing revealed an intricacy of emotion and expression that surpassed volumes of verbiage. As is my nature, I responded with my customary enthusiasm and passion. Uh-Oh! The “P” word! Yes, I know that our world has relegated passion to a narrow niche of application. But not me! I live all of my life with passion.

While many are intent on crossing life’s pond without making any ripples or disturbing anything along the shore: to arrive at the other shore having made no “waves” … I want to stir the waters. I intend to leave a wake behind my life’s little boat … and everyone in that wake better, perhaps happier, maybe even more hopeful and loving for having been “splashed on” by my passing. The “other shore” is not my focus. That is where the trip ends and all opportunity ceases. Oh no! My interest is in making every lily-pad, along the shore, bob joyously, and wave their blossoms in exuberant appreciation of the Moment. So, Dear Reader, as you may have surmised, my passion level probably exceeds the level of my proficiency in communicating. [smile]

Hence, when I tell this particular Friend that I recognize her as a Romantic Intimate, I am feebly trying to say that I know her as someone with whom I can celebrate a view and perception of life in the romantic terms that I so-uniquely know. And we can enjoy a shared vulnerability to the intimacies of an unguarded and free appreciation of the eternal, ethereal, and transcendent qualities in what we encounter in our Friendship’s journey.

Now! Do you see what I mean when I speak of the insufficiency of ‘right’ words that I am vexed by?! Look at how many of them (words) it has taken for me to try to convey this seemingly-simple concept! How I do long for some linguistic tools that will enable me to more efficiently and comfortably peak my Soul’s desired messages. I know … I know … patience! But that is so hard to come by when you are afraid that what you have spoken could be totally misinterpreted.

I thank you, my Dear and oh-so-patient Reader, for your tolerance in indulging me this soul-venting. I am truly grateful for your kind attentions.

Lovingly …

Astor's First Outing

Astor (just two days old) and his Mom (Cara) are venturing out into the World for the first time. (Notice the patience with which Cara introduces Astor to the new, somewhat confusing, phenomenon of Fences and Gates. [smile])

My heartfelt "Thank You!" to Steven and Mary (my sweet Brother and his wonderful Wife) for sharing this magical moment with me. I love youse guys!

"No hurt survives"

One of the nice things that I do for myself is to subscribe to daily installments from "STORYPEOPLE." I heartily recommend this little oasis of pleasure to You. I am particularly touched by this little Gem ...

"No hurt survives for long without our
help, she said & then she kissed me &
sent me out to play again for
the rest of my life."

STORYPEOPLE

Lovingly ...

Stan

I had been attempting to engage life for twenty-one years. Stan had been in the game for thirty-six. We met when the firm that he had been with for an appreciable number of years hired me. He was obviously well liked and respected by his colleagues, and comfortable with who he was as an Individual. He was happy with his life. I had never known happiness with life … but sorely yearned for it. He had my attention.

As I entered this new world, I carried with me a bundle of frustrations, disappointments, doubts, and fears accumulated in a world governed by the constructs of Fundamentalist, Evangelical, Protestant religion and a Family that was staunchly locked into a pattern that disallowed any expression of emotion or affection … and, in fact, had a distrust of those who were inclined to display any such thing. A rather unhappy existence for One who is, by nature, an Idealist/Romantic. So I was wide open for an example of someone living a life that complimented my Spirit’s core desires.

And there was this Guy! Stanley H. Menendez. A man who was exuberantly engaged in living life. A man who was unabashed in his expression of adoration for his wife and family. Someone who did not live under the yoke of “know your place and stay in it” that was the credo of all of my previous upbringing and experience. This guy quietly, and in a dignified way, projected Joy in living … passion for his family … and genuine regard and respect for everyone who he engaged in his daily walk. When Stan spoke with you, you had his total and complete attention … you knew worth and value.

I tell you, my Dear Reader, about this extraordinary fellow, because he is celebrating, this month, his 80th anniversary of life . And, though I am unable to be in attendance at the celebratory luncheon that his daughters have been so gracious and kind to invite me to, I could not pass up this opportunity to tell my little World about this wonderful Man. I hope, in my so-doing, that I can encourage all of us to be mindful, yet again, of the impact, and timeless significance, that we (most-often unknowingly) make on the hearts, minds, and yes, even the lives, of those who are touched by us as we go about our daily lives. Stan is still … all these years later … a Source of encouragement and joy in my life.

I am so blessed to have, as a permanent part of my life and world, a rare few Treasures like Stanley H. Menendez. Proof, yet again, that I am watched over by a loving and generous Creator.

Happiest of Birthdays to you, Stan … my Dear Friend. I love you.

If you've missed me,
there's no need for dread.

I'm really quite fine,
it's the computer that's dead.


(My thanks to Lime for posting this.)

Hope

I am well-acquainted with coping ...
hoping, on the other hand, is foreign to my familiarity.

Hence, at this moment in my life-journey ...
with this Alien, Hope,
standing at the threshold of my Tomorrows ...
I am ill-equipped to handle my emotions.

I have no casual or customary repertoire
of mind-set or behaviors to rest in.

This is unexplored terrain for me.

My sleep is sporadic and irregular ...
and my wakening hours are visited with all manner
of jumbled, unordered thoughts.

Yet ... I like it!

For Once in My Life | Documentary on Spirit of Goodwill Band | Independent Lens | PBS

As I allow this presentation to embrace me ... my thought is "Share this with everyone!" So, my Darling Friend, I invite you to join me. Enjoy!

For Once in My Life | Documentary on Spirit of Goodwill Band | Independent Lens | PBS

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.

When the Time is Right ... Confirmation

How do you know that you are walking “Your Path”? What endorsement … what validation … what affirmation cements your confidence in the right-ness of your elections? Just like you, I had the desire for certainty. My confidence skated on the thin ice of a fragile Belief and wavering Conviction that I was being the person that I was created to BE. I, like you, was challenged by the voices of loving, caring, concerned, and trusted friends who offered their opinions and perspectives on my life choices. And none … absolutely none of them could see the rationale for my determinations. Yet … I persevered on the strength of an inner conviction that I was in harmony with the leading of the Source of all that is true.

Then Life reached out with a steadying Hand and a reassuring Voice in the person of the only individual who (as a consummate human being) could command my absolute confidence and respect. He was a respected and honored Scientist and Educator … and a deeply committed Spiritual Being. Inasmuch as he is no longer with me in physical presence (though certainly still-known in spirit) I can, and will, reveal his identity (want, as he was, to remain invisible, humble, and unobtrusive.) Swaminatha Sundaram, (Professor-Chairperson (Physics), University of South Florida, 1982 [B.Sc.; M.S.; Ph.D., D.Sc., Annamalai University, India, 1960]) became a dear Friend, Confidant, and Joy in my life from the moment of our initial meeting (as he placed his mail in the post-box at the curb, and I delivered the morning newspaper in the pre-dawn hours of the day.)

It was during one of our treasured luncheon visits together, that he (being a man of very few … yet each one valuable … words) said “You, My Friend, are a true Priest. You walk your daily path as lead by The Spirit … minister to each life encountered along that path … asking nothing and expecting nothing save the meeting of your physical and material needs. All at the direction and through the provision, of that controlling Spirit.”

Confirmation! I can tell you, My Dear Reader, that I have never, in all of my life, been more honored, humbled, and moved than at that moment. Life had warranted and authenticated my convictions in terms that I would never have known to ask for or expect. And I can now share this story with you, as my personal testimony to the certainty, that you will know, with sureness, the appropriateness of your life elections ... if you will but exercise that awesome power, of your own Free Will, to follow the Inspiration … the Inclination … the Leading of your own personal and individual “Still, Quiet, Inner-Voice.” Mindful that doing so will often be to the exclusion of all outside "influences."

I cannot promise you riches, fame, glory, or applause as an expectation resulting from such a disciplined and oft-courageous (and sometimes lonely) choice. What I can, and do, guarantee you is Joy, Confidence, Peace of Mind, and Spirit, that gives (in time … and with patience) rhyme, reason, and meaning to all of the conflicts, pains, disappointments, and sorrows of a life so lived. And ... at that time and in that place, when and where you need, and are ready for it ... you can expect, in some form, a confirmation and validation ... from the Creator of all that You are ... from "Life." A confirmation and validation of the reality of your BE-ing that unique and particularly special Individual, that You are equipped (by nature, inclination, and experience) to … BE.

This is, I promise you, My Dear Friend, the greatest reward that can possibly be imagined. To know that you are living in harmony with the intention of your Creator in the world that is your daily walk. That all is Right with You and your place in all of Time and Eternity. And it is to the encouragement, endorsement, and enabling of You, in your personal pilgrimage, that I am committed … as I remain;

Your constant Friend and unwavering Servant.



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

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.

Thanksgiving Prayer

My favorite day of the year. Without qualification, Thanksgiving was always the day that I looked forward to. It represented the pinnacle of familial unity and intimacy. The Norman Rockwell image of Family around the dinner table was my ideal. (And, as an avowed Idealist, this was, for me, no small matter.) [smile]

Hence, when I purchased dining room furnishings, I selected the most accommodating dining table offered by the good folk at Ethan Allen. Substantial English oak and an ability to be expanded to a size that would welcome the entire family was my goal.

And on that annual day of feasting and celebrating, I happily assumed the role of turkey baker/carver, and Host. Then, as we all sat around that grand table laden with magnificent treats and culinary treasures, we would hold hands … bow our heads … and one by one, offer each of our individual statements of prayerful gratitude for our blessings.

Thus it was on that particular Thanksgiving when we were additionally blessed with Matthew … sitting there, between myself and his mother … in his high-chair, and filled with wonder at the presence of an altogether unusual energy and spirit in his home.

His mother followed my reading of a scripture appropriate to the occasion with her start to our Thanksgiving Prayer. Then her Dad, Mother, Brother-in-Law, Sister, and back to me for my benedictory closing. But then, after my “Amen,” there filled the reverent silence, another voice … “M-i-c” … I lifted my head and looked. We all looked. Save Matthew, whose head was still bowed … hands folded in prayer … “k-e-y”. I looked at the others; shrugged; nodded; and we all joined him in his “M-o-u-s-e.” Then Matt lifted his head in complete solemnity and quietude … having offered his contribution of the most reverential and worshipful expression that his darling little soul knew.

And, My Dear Friend and Reader, I fully believe to this day that all of Heaven was stilled and blessed by that dear young Soul’s fervent prayer that day. For I remembered then … and still do … the verse of scripture that teaches us that “Unless you come in the innocent spirit of a little child, you will never know the kingdom of Heaven.”

I lovingly bid you … each and every beautiful One of you … a day of sweet, harmonious joy in the bosom of those with whom you share Love.

Happy Thanksgiving Day Dear One. I do, indeed, love you.



A Post-Script Note: In response to inquiries by some who are not familiar with the Mickey Mouse Club 'Alma Mater' (that Matthew was singing on that far-removed Thanksgiving Day) ... Here 'tis ...



(I will never tire of the many memories stirred by that song ... And I think that you can readily sense the reverent spirit that Matt felt appropriate to our prayerful moment. I hope that you enjoyed it!)

An Autumnal Perspective (with a Chuckle)

by Michael Fry and T Lewis

(Note: Please click on the Image to enlarge)