if truth be known
05.13.08 (11:45 am) [edit]
if truth be known
inner peace and silence,
or storms extreme and chaos strong,
are of the same piece of cloth.
inner and outer instability are the norm,
times of peace and of war,
pleasure and pain,
love and at times hate,
union and loneliness,
community and isolation,
each experienced in varying degrees,
stacked,
taking a number,
waiting their turn to come on stage.
sometimes the ocean is calm,
at others a great storm,
the inner world clear and organized.
then littered with wreckage,
leaving one holding on for dear life
in a raging turmoil seeming without end,
yet it does end,
some peace returns,
then it begins again.
amidst it all if truth be known
the soul can still be at peace,
for the love of the infinite and It’s presence,
(closer to us than our skin, bones, tissue,
one with our mind,
our soul,
of It’s substance,
in Eternals image made),
is the only constant,
the true center,
no wavering in good times or bad,
for in the end all are the same
as slowly we find our way home.
ebb and flow is our meat,
ups and downs are what teach us
if we but listen,
and if not,
these up and downs will increase in intensity
until the lesson of love learned,
either in the inner or the outer,
which in reality are the same.
there is oneness,
unity,
that leads to expansion.
the shattered mind is diminishment
encased in the prison of its own delusion,
a castle
that has become a dungeon.
yet love is kind,
even if experienced as cruelty,
for the fire of the spirit
will leave no peace until the oneness embraced,
rooted in love beyond all telling
understanding,
comprehension.
infinite patience waits
without pity
05.12.08 (8:50 am) [edit]
Without pity
Oh Lord,
if only you would wound me,
tear out my heart,
make it bleed
and weep,
for when I do it only leads to greater disintegration,
your love is hard, cruel, stronger than death,
leading to life;
my love is weak, too gentle
leading to greater imprisonment
for it lacks the courage that only the infinite can give,
for your fire devours,
melts,
causes all impurities to dissipate
until only pure gold
is left.
All else burns away in your love,
without pity,
in its all consuming mercy.
called
05.11.08 (6:33 pm) [edit] |  |
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called
are there some who do not fail,
ones who run the race without self inflicted wounds,
not swallowed by inner chaos
or urgent,
demanding,
longings and emotions?
I often wonder if I have any freedom at all,
yet I do choose,
yes I go on,
to what,
at times I have no idea.
Yet I feel called.
Barbara
05.11.08 (9:56 am) [edit] | |
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Barbara
She was in one of our waiting rooms here.
I was looking for a friend and looked in;
she smiled at me and said hi,
in returning the salutation I noticed that she was ill,
wearing the scarf from chemo,
her skin very pale,
ethereal looking,
angelic,
the way the ill often do.
we talked a bit about her illness,
she mourned the loss of her breasts:
“there is such an emptiness there now,
no way to prepare for the afterwards of surgery”.
she took off her scarf to brag on her hair growing back,
blond or light grey I could not tell,
she looked beautiful,
very feminine with her pale face and large earrings;
I told her so
and she smiled shyly.
It was a short exchange between two people
who where strangers,
yet now no more,
I was touched deeply by her courage,
her inner and outer beauty,
the love she had for life,
thirsty for more,
still filled with love for others,
getting better,
hopefully one day a full cure.
fear is useless
05.10.08 (5:10 pm) [edit] | |
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fear is useless
seeking,
is the salt of which life is made,
giving flavor
and zing
to everything.
finding,
is what will one day present,
perhaps far off,
bringing peace beyond all comprehension,
dying,
will bring with it
the end of all fear and dread
and the true beginning.
one step at a time
05.10.08 (8:18 am) [edit] | |
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one step at a time
my heart at times is like a piece of coal
seeking to be inflamed,
desiring to burn purely in love’s embrace
yet only a cold arctic void at times present,
or not even that,
yet I take one step at a time,
I cry out weakly in my seeking
into the unresponsive immensity,
so what is it that draws me in the cold unfeeling darkness,
when only inner chaos
or simple lethargy seems to take hold?
is it not grace?
the inner
05.09.08 (6:22 pm) [edit] | |
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the inner
inner is what they call it,
our true life,
hidden,
deep within,
unconscious forces calling the shots
often seen only by those who look from without,
for not to name
is to be controlled
by the seething life within.
Our true home
05.09.08 (8:22 am) [edit] | |
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our true home
the stone bleeds for it cannot feel,
the tree bark falls, trapped without expression,
dogs tremble for love unsaid,
and man dies of loneliness trapped in fear.
the key to the door wrapped around the neck,
hidden lest someone see,
for choice is a heavy burden
than only mankind must carry.
tormented by longing for that unknown,
the soul filled with pain of its inner nothingness,
seeking that which can only fill it,
that which is no-thing.
our heaven and our hell is our search,
driven we go mad in the desert of our lives,
seeking to quench
that which is unquenchable,
we are children of the infinite.
love cruel in its pursuit,
gentleness unknown in its thirst,
seeking to fill us with the living water,
a raging torrent that will carry us home.
all are beloved
so to the void we are called,
beyond form or thought
is love shown.
dive freely into the abyss,
for light unending,
blinding in its intensity,
is our true home.
being
05.08.08 (8:34 am) [edit] | |
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take root deeply in dark soil,
its growth
like all else in this world in doubt,
drought,
disease,
the simple struggle for survival can lead to it's non-existence,
the fall into eternal oblivion,
yet it persists,
fighting for the good of simple presence,
for truly is there any greater gift than to simply be?
time
05.07.08 (5:12 pm) [edit] | |
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each step that we take,
covers the void that we walk,
a new creation the moment,
nothing permanent
to quence
05.06.08 (7:43 pm) [edit] | |
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to quench
the sword was patient,
waiting for what it was made,
to quench it thirst on their blood
and then again, rest
The path's we choose
05.06.08 (8:50 am) [edit] | |
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The path's we choose
Why is it we choose a certain path in life?
Go this way and not that?
Marry this person,
take that job,
have these types of friends?
Perhaps that is not the important question.
I think it is what keeps a marriage going,
or allows someone to grow in a chosen vocation;
and those in ones life,
keeping friendships that allow growth,
that is the key.
For what draw us might not be the ultimate reason for staying or keeping,
it is the new reasons that come to the fore as time goes by,
as we learn or not,
that is what keeps one going for good or ill.
Either we learn or we don't,
cycles unending of pain
or a ever widening sense of freedom.
One path takes courage,
the other dominated by fear
in the end
we all choose,
and yes make serious mistakes,
hopefully in the end
our choices are well made,
with the coming of wisdom well earned.
shock
05.05.08 (7:28 pm) [edit] | |
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shock
he almost died
but didn't,
he struggled and survived,
this time,
later,
well probably not,
for in the end
when all is said and done,
we all lose.
Dancing soull
05.05.08 (6:51 pm) [edit] | |
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dancing soul
some souls jitterbug,
others waltz,
some do the two step,
others mental heads moshing,
in the end
each an expression of deep spiritual truth,
the depth
known only to God.
Cycles
05.05.08 (8:37 am) [edit] | |
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Cycles
I am what you would call a light sleeper, the slightest sound on most nights will awaken me, and I am up, no problem. However even light sleepers have their times when they are in deep sleep. So when I got a knock on my door at 11:30 in the evening, I guess I was in deep REM sleep. For I did awaken but felt like I was drug up from a deep tar pit at light speed; so I felt some shock, a feeling I am sure most can identify with. So I got up, stumbled to the door and was notified by Bernadette that Philip was not doing well and I needed to come and check. So I got dressed and hurried to the infirmary.
Phillip has been with us for many years, bed ridden for the last five years, weak, and needs to be in a geriatric chair when he is out of bed. We try to get him up for a few hours in the morning and then for another three or four hours in the afternoon. We have to use a lift since it is impossible for him to stand on his own, and his back is stiff, so even if he could be lifted, it would be dangerous for both him and the caregiver to try to seat him. Most days he is peaceful, gentle, with a beautiful smile, and very easy to deal with. On a few days he can be in a bad mood, then he can be a little more difficult, but all in all, one of the easiest patients we have on the floor; often finding humor in what goes on around him.
He has always had his cycles, and from time to time he would become very fatigued, and sleep and be unresponsive for a couple of days, but not in a way that caused concern. Lately his cycle has shortened and his episodes have become more serious. So I was not surprised at being awaken because he was now in distress.
Phillip seemed to be struggling, clammy, his skin hot to the touch, though he did not have a fever, and blood pressure that went through the roof. The pulse ox machine showed that his oxygen was 88. Bernadette put him on oxygen before she came and woke me. Though he was in distress it was not extreme. Yet it was different; I could tell that this could be his final struggle, or just another accelerating turn of the wheel. He has been with us for so long that it was hard for me to imagine that this could possibly be his last night with us.
It was time for his cleaning, so we did that quickly, got his bed straightened up and put him in a reclining position so he could breathe easier; though at the time he was not struggling much with that problem. After that we put out the light and I sat with him for awhile to see how things would go. I waited for another 20 minutes or so checked his oxygen level, it was now 77, and he was still hot to the touch. I decided to get Fr Francis to come and give him the anointing. I called him and he was there in short order. We prayed, and give him the holy oils and Fr Francis blessed him. He stayed for a few minutes and spoke some gentle kind words to Phillip, then left.
When sitting with someone who may be dying, I find that the hours fly by. I don’t know why this is so but it just happens for me that way. I prayed some, read the 23rd psalm, but could not get past the first sentence, “the Lord is my shepherd”, and keep thinking on how for Philip, the Lord is truly his shepherd, for he has always been a devout Christian, a gentle loving man. I stayed until 6:30 and then went back to my room to try to get a few hours of sleep, but, 30 minutes later I was called back in. When I arrived he was in a sitting position in his bed and struggling mightily to breathe. It seemed he was most likely dying, though over the years I have learned never to make a statement like that, too many times there has been a rally, just part of the cycle. We have Ativian cream here, so I got some and applied over his wrist after I washed it, and in about 15 minutes he was able to relax a bit and fall asleep. So I stayed with him for a few more hours.
Rose the nurse arrived, she is a very compassionate woman, and I doubt this place would run without her knowledge, intelligence, and common sense, when it comes to caring for those who are in the last stages of life. Before she came to work here she worked in hospice, so she was comfortable in dealing with those who are moving towards their exit from this life. Her heart is also has big as the world, she seems to love everyone. Even when not at work she is always visiting or helping her friends, which are many. I just get tired watching her. Because he could not drink at this time, he would aspirate, we could not give him his liquid Tylenol for pain, he gets it twice a day for his arthritis, and it was acting up. We have liquid morphine, so Rose gave him small dose, which helped him and he was able to become more comfortable.
Later that morning he became very emotional, not sad, but smiling and crying. I talked to him about his sister Ada, and that really got the tears flowing, for he loved her very much. Though as I reminded him how he used to ask me to spend some time with her, because she was so outgoing, joyful, that he wore him out; for he was very introverted. He laughed at that and cried some more. I told him how much I loved his sister, and how we used to go out for a meal once in awhile. I showed him his family portrait, all gone now except for him and his younger brother who is not 80, Phillip is 90, and he smiled and touched it. After that he slept for awhile.
So he slowly got better and this morning he was bright, alert, or as alert as someone with Alzheimer’s can be. Though Neda just informed me that he is now getting hot again, and getting pale, so perhaps we are getting ready for another round, perhaps his last, perhaps not, in any case we will be there for this very gentle, kind, and lovable man.
silence
05.03.08 (7:31 pm) [edit] | |
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silence
the true observer,
(separate from inner tribe
yelling, wanting, desiring);
quiet compassion.
in silence waiting
the intense inner struggle
playing again its drama;
yet just that nothing
for all passes but the silence
Edna
05.03.08 (12:40 pm) [edit] | |
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Edna
I have known Edna for quite a few years now,
a quiet lady,
classy in her own way,
I often see her at the Wall Mart here in Conyers,
she is a quiet woman for whom I have more than a little respect,
a hard worker,
earnest,
the salt of earth type of person.
Middle class,
been with Wall Mart for over twenty years,
58 years old,
so she is like me getting up in years.
I was at her place of employment this morning;
when there I don’t always expect to see her for it is a super store,
a place one can get lost in.
As I was walking by the households isle
I heard my name being called
and there she was,
smiling,
welcoming.
We talked,
soon I could tell that she was going through quite a bit,
she was feeling isolated,
even betrayed by those she worked for
and yes
her church.
So I just listened.
She is worried about her job,
now being 58 and having worked for Wall Mart for over 20 years,
her salary was more than most,
so she told me that they can’t fire her
but they make things so difficult for people like her,
loyal employees,
that they end up quitting,
she did not understand how they could treat loyal employees so badly.
She was worried about health issues,
her insurance is not as good as she would like,
but she is thankful that she has it,
but it pays very little,
so she is in debt with the hospital which she is paying a bit every month,
for she pays her bills.
Her church also bothers her,
she went into that a bit and again I listened,
really not knowing what to say,
as she talked I felt helpless and was even beginning to take on her hopelessness,
a very bad habit that I have,
for it helps no one with that happens.
So I tried to keep my boundaries up and stayed with her.
What to say?
I suppose I did make the appropriate noises
but they sound so phony,
for we each carry a burden alone,
or so it seems at times.
She finished and she came forward for a hug,
after the embraced I said I would pray for her,
yet it sounded hollow,
though I meant it,
for when in the midst of suffering and worry
that is all that seems real,
yet hopefully things will settle for her,
but like so many she struggles mightily to make it through the day,
making me sad that I could not do more.
So it goes.
Simple speaking (from my doug eaton blog)
05.02.08 (3:56 pm) [edit] | |
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can cost you a great deal,
but to not,
well,
one can lose everything.
Self respect;
who can truly exist without it,
truly a living death,
it's hollowness
known only by the one enduring.
A day out with Luke
05.02.08 (8:34 am) [edit] | |
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A day out with Luke
Took Luke, who is 96 years old,
to see a good friend yesterday,
I combine trips,
he had a dentist appointment,
and Clair lives 15 miles away,
she loves Luke very much, which is not hard to do,
he is a gentle soul,
always smiling and helps to take care of people 30 years his junior.
I asked him what he wants for lunch,
he thought for a few minutes,
he always looks up to his left when thinking,
smiled,
and said,
baloney sandwiches, with mustard,
something I could agree upon,
I so love baloney.
I asked for hot dogs,
we are both cheap dates that is for sure.
With mashed potatoes and baked beans,
a coke, glass with ice
and I for one am set.
We arrived,
Clair and her grandmother
and the dogs,
treated Luke like he was a rock star,
such a fuss,
while I,
sad to say was ignored,
a 60 year old cannot compete with someone 96,
with enough charm to coax apples off a tree before their time.
There was a very nice Jamaican lady there,
I am such a ditz
I forgot her name,
but herself no,
she was very nice
big smile,
and best of all she let me have some Chicken and rice,
ahhhhhh such memories of my Panama days
when Mandy would bring home the same dish,
it almost tasted the same,
et the whole thing
to my shame,
well no, no shame at all.
Of course more pictures of the baby;
I think the world will one day end,
drowning in pictures of the perfect babies,
shown by proud mom’s and grandmas,
throughout the world;
yes of course the baby is perfect.
We ate,
laughed,
I drank my coke,
ate four hot dogs,
mustard on the bottom of the bun,
then onions,
then yes the hot dog,
baked beans,
sour kraut,
and yes the chicken and rice;
so in the end,
to say I was surfeited is an understatement,
did not even have room of ice cream,
but it was Clair's fault and the nice Jamaican lady,
it is cool to have someone to blame,
yes?
Luke takes forever to say goodbye,
I am surprised we got out the same day,
but I finally got him to the car,
off we went,
he sleeping most of the way,
I listening to Rush;
there is a rumor that he is god
but I don’t believe it al all.
He tells me the global warming is a farce,
if he says it
it must be true
at least that is what I am told.
Finally got home,
got Luke to his room
and I?
Well I am staring to feel my age,
for some reason I was wiped out,
perhaps my four hotdogs had something to do with it.
Oh well,
a good time was had by all,
perhaps at his next appointment in six months
we will do it all over again
One drop
04.30.08 (4:08 pm) [edit] | |
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one drop
Love is the water we thirst for
one drop will enliven our inner desert,
dry sands soaking with life,
allowing growth to where once there was only sand.
Without it men and women go mad,
or worse simply dry up,
not knowing what it is they miss,
happy with ashes that a loveless life offers.
Love the genus
there are many species,
friendship,
marriages with children,
reaching our to others in need,
taking care of oneself,
all are love,
each gives life its color,
spice,
salt and pepper
giving flavor to all that is,
allowing the lover to see the beauty of those around it,
for broader yet
is love of animals, plants, the sun and more,
perceiving the divine
in all things
existing.
Deep memory
04.30.08 (9:09 am) [edit]
Deep memory
The man looked at me silently for a time, just thinking over what I asked him. finally he sighed, looked down at his old worn hands, cracked his knuckles, and said, “are you sure you want to hear what I have to say”, for it is not all goodness and light,
it seems that even in this event, you can’t have one without the other.
So he began
I have told this many times, some believe, others not, for what we believe, no matter what it is, limits us, puts up barriers, and will block out acceptance of truths not agreed upon. I am no different he continued, my experience has just made my beliefs perhaps a little broader than most.
Some people think death the end, a sort of endless sleep, with a do not disturb sign outside the door.
Others
Well they think there is an endless return with perhaps some time off in between life times, some don’t believe this at all, you just come back at once, over and over gain, for myself he said,
I am not sure which is worse; endless sleep without dreams, or the constant coming and going with no rest at all……..Just one lifetime after another.
Still
Many think it is either heaven or hell, no middle ground, with most going to hell, something he said that I thought kind of strange. Hell full, heaven almost empty, could never quite get my mind around that…….so in the end I did not know what happens after death, really not sure now, except for perhaps what happens right after the body drops like mine did.
When I died he continued
I was surprised, it seemed no different the first few moments, I was still me, could not get over it. Then it started, memories I thought gone, forgotten, but there they were, in all of their glory and pain, the good, the bad and yes the ugly. Nothing left out; I got away with nothing, for I was not al good man. I was cruel to my wife, my children, to those who worked under me; I even did some illegal things that I thought I got away with. For I never thought about what happens after death, I just thought it was the end, or at least I lived like it was. I also thought over all I was a good man, for I went to church, gave to charity, and did other things I thought I was supposed to do just to look good in front of my neighbors. For my family knew better than to tell anyone what went on in the privacy of our home.
Ever pain I caused, I felt, every blow I let fall on another, in the end it was me I hit. The pain of my wife I experienced, the emotional harm I did to my children, became mine, those I hurt with my illegal doings came back upon me, pain upon pain. Suffering was what my soul downed in, I screamed, thought I was in hell, wept over what I did, the suffering was indescribable. I curled into a fetal position, trying to escape my life but could not. There was some good, but it was so little that it did little to take away from my self inflicted wounds.
People to me where card board cutouts, not real, just there for me to use, abuse at will; in the end playthings, toys, not real like I was. What I fool I became, created, for what I did to them, truly I did to my self. From this pit of pain, I heard this voice, a voice I did not even care to know when alive. In the end, my soul beat and bloodied from my own actions, an endless round of abuse of others, that in the end was self abuse; lying there, waiting for what I did not know……the voice spoke, gently, lovingly, I could not believe it.
“Father, forgive him, for he did not know what he was doing”.
Looking up I saw a light, you would not understand what I experienced,
there are no words,
love I never thought possible I was filled with, understanding beyond comprehension, of my own deep failures…… compassion, yes even empathy, for the being seemed to have been with me all of my long life of doing harm to others.
I woke up then in the hospital, a different man than what I was that morning I got up to go to work, a new being in fact. For the pain I experienced made me see others in a different light. After that my life changed, I had a lot to do, many people to see, I sought forgiveness from those I hurt, an army, I had no idea. I received mercy from many, from others no. My children still hate me, but I can only hope that one day that will change. For I understand them, I helped create them, so much of my pain still remains. The soul’s memory is absolute, we get away with nothing, until we learn, and if we don’t, well perhaps that is hell, I do not know.
He then looked down, but when he again faced me, he was smiling and said. I embrace my pain, and seek now only to love others, and yes I fail, but people are no longer cut outs for me, but in reality beings of great worth. So yes the world I live in is different now, and I will continue to grow in love of that being who forgave me, because I did not know what I was doing.
So I left the old man, wondering in what I have heard. For reading about such experiences is different when actually sitting and listening to what was experienced. It gave me hope, for myself and others, that much of what we do is based on not really understanding who the other person before us is; be it a stranger or someone we love or hate.
I need to look deeper.
Until the end
04.29.08 (8:58 am) [edit] | |
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Until the end
Leo has the same disease as William, yet both show it in different ways;
no two people manifest the same behaviors when in Alzheimer’s dark, cold, embrace,
some become very pointed, angry, rough, loud, very feisty, in how they relate,
others like Leo sort of fade, talk in a gentle voice, have some bad days,
but even then they can be calmed down easily and do not strike out,
or if they do, it is not as forceful as others.
He sits and stared, returns a smile when given, also will attempt to answer questions,
though for the most part he will mumble. In the mornings at times, for a very short interval,
he can speak in truncated sentences, but this soon passes.
No one knows how much he really understands, though there is the attempt,
the strong desire, to communicate, so he does struggle;
though now that his disease has progressed, most days he does not know he mumbles,
hopefully he thinks he is really talking, and we respond the best way we can.
We put on TV for him. Tuner classic movies (TCM), at times help keep his attention,
there are no commercials, which is a bonus, for they often cause some agitation,
for they play, and jump from scene to scene in rapid succession,
leading to some confusion, and perhaps getting very restless.
At times he gets antsy in his chair, shaking his table that fits over the arms,
so I get him up and walk him around for awhile,
when he starts to act fatigued I take him back and he sits down relaxed,
thankful for the expenditure of energy.
He eats well, but lately certain foods keep coming back up,
certain types of fish, perhaps others foods that are greasy, we are watching,
worried that one day if this happens in his sleep
he could aspirate, which could lead to death, so we deep a close eye on him.
At times, he does not understand when and why, we clean him,
but so far we can get through to him the reasons in what we are doing and he calms down,
so far,
don’t know what will happen if one day we can’t get though,
I think cleaning is probably one of the greatest crosses for the ill,
getting cleaned six to eight times a day can be wearing,
having sleep interrupted every night, very unpleasant to say the least,
yet it has to be done,
so hopefully he will always be able to be reached,
but I doubt it, for his disease is progressing, and he continues to fade,
so understanding will one day be gone, and only his instincts will be there,
which will lash out at any threat,
cleaning will be considered a threat then, so another William will be born,
however we will continue to take care of him,
until the end.
hollow
04.28.08 (11:50 am) [edit] | |
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hollow
you ask me why our friendship ended;
how (?)
for you seemed content,
yet I
found you hollow,
a gaping inwardness,
hungry,
grasping for existence though another,
any other,
that is not friendship,
or love I think of any kind.
for hunger only devours,
it does not give,
it can by its nature only take
leaving the other empty,
formless,
while the taker grows only stronger,
such is evil,
in the end and illusion,
for you become alone again,
your addiction your only solace,
as you look for another
to feed upon
yet again,
I wonder if you will ever learn,
for myself,
it does not concern me.
empty
04.28.08 (11:12 am) [edit] | |
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empty
our days
an endless round it seems at times
doing it all over and over again,
so absurd,
so much to do that is worthless,
so many items desired that are useless.
empty time
cloying in its seeming unending nothingness,
yet all too conscious of the void
the inner bleakness without bottom or ending,
seeking to escape,
yet death is not the answer
for perhaps
it is not the end,
not always a comforting thought
when weighed down by weariness
and the simple desire
to cease.
Yet this passes,
life is good,
existence our valued gift
I just take it for granted I think,
like a spoiled child,
lacking understanding of what really is,
for life once gone,
it is gone.
Easy to say
04.28.08 (8:50 am) [edit] | |
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Wise words flow freely from the tongue,
like honey,
smooth sounding,
profound,
yet
in the end,
it can be BS,
for nothing is easier than talking on how life ought to be lived,
yet
in the doing is the trick,
for wisdom evaporates in the mundane of everyday,
mindfulness scattered,
too busy just surviving to think about such things,
so much to do,
so little time,
for much that in the end is not even important…… .
Self interest not always bad,
though at times it can cause great harm,
like drunken capitalism
with no thought for others
or in any kind of real future,
for to lack presence is to seek and cling
to what one is not present to,
while being in the now allows one to let go,
though again,
easy to say,
hard to do,
perhaps even impossible
most of the time.
What are we to do?
Perhaps
in the end we simply can’t.
Or
It is only my own struggles I am talking about.
Forest green
04.27.08 (7:15 pm) [edit] | |
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Forest green
A quiet walk to calm the mind,
the gentle wind caressing the perspiring skin,
the sound of life hidden in the woods,
birds flying,
insects humming and dashing though the air,
the sun and then the shade,
the play of colors,
forest greens
mixed with the color of wild flowers
growing near the gently flowing stream,
so much to soothe and quiet a restless consciousness;
late spring,
before the heat blessed rain,
cool mornings,
and yes evenings also,
I so love spring
or
early summer.
Chanting prayer
04.27.08 (9:52 am) [edit] | |
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Chanting prayer
It was one of those mornings with William, a common event, yet not everyday,
so when it happens it is always somewhat of a surprise, though not a big one.
He wakes up, and gives me and whomever else is helping; for it takes two clean him,a certain look, a WTF look, wary, cunning, fearful, trying to figure what is going on,yet failing, so he becomes very angry, screaming, trying to get us away from him,yet of course we can’t, like so many times before, it simply has to be done.
Quite a lot to do this good morning, a lot to clean, scrub, you know the usual,
though some morning can be a little busier than others, this was one of them.
So, we both take a deep breath and try to get it done as gently and as quickly as possible, though it is not easy by any measurement.Taking off night clothes, cleaning his skin, putting on medicines, and lotions, takes a lot of time an energy, though this morning he did not try to bite or kick; just screaming. He told me lots of things about myself, I won’t go into it here,so I just agreed with him; this stopped him for about six seconds,then he started up again.
He has a lot of energy when angry, of course it is based on fear, he thinks,
falsely of course, yet true in his world, that we are trying to hurt him,
so he tries to defend himself the best way he can,by throwing lots of verbal abuse, and some mornings physical.
We sometimes laugh, not of mockery, but just to get rid of the stress,for some days are more difficult than others in dealing with thisGod awful disease that reduces people to that state that William is in,so laughter is one way of getting rid of the inner angst, that perhaps most care givers feel from time to time, it is impossible to get away from,it is perhaps there when not even averted to, it just waits for the time,then lo it is there, it all of its gut wrenching sorrow, not often felt until later,when the quiet allows it to arise.
So I told Bernie I would sit with him for awhile, while she got breakfast for the others,I took him down to the little chapel as is my practice with him of late,
I tried to pray the rosary with him, but this time it did not work,he was just to lost in his inner world of fear and anger at what we did to him.So I sat and waited and watched with him. He says some very interesting thing when I listen,much of it a poem of sorts, and yes he still chants from time to time,haunting in its beauty, it touches my soul deeply as if he is crying for all of mankind,yes all I can do is listen to him, be with him, but not much else,
sometimes there is only so much that can be done, then all you can do is just be with him.
This is some of the things he was chanting this morning:
“come down, come down,
you hurt me,
you help me,
come down, come down,
get me out of here
please why do they do what they do,
come down, come down,
get me out of here.
my belly hurts
where am I
come down, come down,
get me out of here
why won’t you help me?"
It resembles a song of sorts, also a psalm, a prayer, that I could certainly understand,
so I just sat and waited and watched with him, for that is all I could do.I don’t know why I love this kind of thing, perhaps it is because this is one of the only worthwhile things I can think of doing. All else for me is just taking care of myself,so guess this gets me out side of myself, perhaps I get more out of this than what I put in,something I think about often, ponder, in end I don’t know,for there is much I don’t understand, and as I get older,have come to the realization, that is ok.
Further seeking
04.26.08 (8:29 am) [edit]
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Further seeking
Growing older for all of its drawbacks which I suppose are many, are in the long run worth it. For with age comes experience, much of it painful, all of it useful, if something taken or learned from the many experiences that life offers us. Life is after all a journey, which is what being a pilgrim means, we are on a road going somewhere, which is good news, the bad news is what we all must go through in order to arrive. Yes for all of us, the rich, poor, the beautiful and not so attractive, the intelligent and those less so……in the end, simply must live life; which cannot be escaped, though perhaps it is tried, with often disastrous results.
What is our purpose? Is it to get rich, or to become powerful, to always look young and beautiful, or perhaps handsome, to be always on top, ruling it over others? If you watch TV a lot, the answer is of course yes. In actually living however the answer is probably no to the above, because when such things are achieved, there is often something deeper that rises to the surface. This can lead to further seeking, or to a mindless diving further in to the illusion of false expectations that our desires promise us. Until we are free, for most a life time endeavor, at least it is for me, I guess we are slaves. Chained, imprisoned in cells, some larger than others, others more comfortable, yet in the end, they are the same; cells.
We can spend life running in circles, going nowhere fast, or perhaps start moving to that point that we are all traveling towards, the dark doorway, death, our end, at least as far as this world goes, in a conscious manner. To see our end can cause a re-evaluation of our lives, to see what is truly important, and what is secondary or perhaps even lower on our ladder of what is truly important.
Today many believe in nothing beyond this world, so they must find these values within a certain time frame, yet it is important for them, as well as for those who believe that we have continued existence after this life. We are made for meaning, we crave it, seek it, dig deep for it. If not then our lives could be spent in running from the reality of our own temporality, in a word death. Perhaps much of what is wrong in the world is the not facing up to such a reality.
I am just starting to understand, after all these years that life is about something. We are sought after, loved, valued more than we can ever imagine by the transcendent, by God, as a Christian it is Christ Jesus who reveals that reality to me. I think we are made for just that, love, all the rest is window dressing, perhaps seeking love, or making up for the lack of it in our lives. We live in a short lived universe, our lives over in a flash. All one has to do is to go over their lives, and see how fast the years pile up, how rapidly each of us moves to the head of the line, the generation before us quickly moving on to whatever awaits us.This can be freeing or something that can fill one with terror, perhaps both, for we are complex creatures and can have more than one emotion or feeling about things. Lately I have been struck by the phrase “flowers of the field’, for that is in fact what we are, best to embrace that and get on with our lives.
Yes love is what we seek. Our movies, books, music drowns in this, the seeking after that which gives life it meaning, color, depth. People die when it is missing, destroy themselves when lost, yes no amount of wealth, beauty, or pleasure can takes it’s place, though in trying things can get both desperate and self destructive. God is love, we are made in God’s image, so yes, we seek love, it is our nature, our destiny, what we long and hope for. All else while important is nothing compared to this.
Aubrey
04.25.08 (4:11 pm) [edit] | |
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Aubrey
It can almost drive one mad at times, so many needing help,
sadly not able to assist,
many out of work, rent due, food needed, yet help is difficult to find.
Today met someone who needed help.
Her name was Aubrey;
her rent was due, no food, and a child who was 13 years old.
I did what I could, not much, and we just talked.
In the end when she was leaving, I said: “I will pray for you”,
such a hollow sounding phrase,
yet I meant it……for there are so many.
I gave her one of my wrist knotted ropes,
a reminder of my concern
and prayers.
She has friends, for one drove her out to see me;
she was a very good women,
she ran from her first home with her son,
away from her husband who beat her, so at least she got away,
yet now she struggles like many, many others.
A situation so archetypal that it could be seen as ordinary,
yet when face to face with the reality
the uniqueness of each stands out
in deep color.
Burdens heavy we all have, yet I was perhaps able to help a little,
though not as much as I wanted to,
yet God is with her, she is on a journey, a loving mother,
weighed down true, but in her eyes I saw she was determined to go on,
not a quitter,
a deep soul filled with love for her child.
In the end, is it not love, and its fruit
that keeps us going,
taking one step in faith after another?
Stacked illusions
04.25.08 (8:17 am) [edit]
Stacked illusions
We so to cling to permanence, to fool ourselves that some things actually last, when it fact all that we see only gives the illusion of such. Cultures rise and fall, great empires once powerful are now dust, schools of thought once followed by many, now only ignored tomes, dusty, resting in esoteric libraries, read if at all, only by a few. So it is, we all know it, though often not averted to, pondered over, or few lessons if any learned from this sober truth. Hard to think that our own culture, or cultures, for there are many today, will also one day be just another foot note in some history book, of course, if there are history books. No matter how many centuries old, nor how powerful, nor learned, it will one day all be gone. Perhaps by culture revolutions, either peaceful or not, or by some fluke of nature, or just wearing out, all will one day end. Perhaps turning into something else, or just stopping, its cities once alive becoming ruins, perhaps to be studied thousands of years in the future by some other culture that too will one day end.
Our years speed by, youth soon gone, suddenly we find ourselves at an age that we perhaps in our youthful folly, thought impossible that we would ever reach. Yet, even if 90, perhaps the time seems but a few days, for time has a habit of folding in on itself, as if no time has really passed at all. One memory from the distant past, and the now, nothing in between; like the speed of light can our past be experienced. If something perhaps experienced at all, time that is, it is as a blur, for most of our days are lost in oblivion, perhaps never to be retrieved again. Our days swift, filled with pain, sorrow, and yes some joy and happiness. We have loved ones, yet one by one they quickly move off stage, and over the years our loneliness increases, as the number of those loved, lost, expand faster as each year speeds by, and our inner hollowness seems to grow.
Perhaps this is a good thing, the rapidity of time, soon over, for perhaps we do move on to something else. Mayhap the gloom and despair that can at times come with darker thoughts about life are also an illusion, perhaps something deeper is going on that is often lost because of the intensity of our lives as experienced on a day by day basis. Perhaps this is the way it should be. To live, struggle, and yet keep faith, or not, we all have many choices. I choose faith, God, even though at times faith in God can seem absurd, yet to not to believe is even more absurd. For to believe in creation without a creator seems the most irrational thing of all, of course that is just me.
Love is the rain that makes our desert blossom, faith is the light, even if dim that lead us down life’s often dark road, community is what often heals our deep wounds, for we are each God’s hands and arms in a world often experienced as cold and loveless.
But is it?
If that perhaps also an illusion, real enough, but again not permanent, for all passes, yet what remains? What is it that keeps us going, hoping, seeking, getting up, starting anew even after the millionth fall or set back; what is it? Perhaps grace is so much a part of life that we often don’t see it, like beauty it can often be passed by, yet it is still there.
I don’t have many answers, yet I choose to believe in something beyond my comprehension, we call it God, a generic term, used all over the world, pointing to something deep, loving, all encompassing, beyond all forms and understandings, yet revealed as love in Christ. So perhaps that is the key, infinite love, experienced often as not-love.
Yes that is the real illusion.
We each struggle with the questions about life. Not always conscious of it, yet we are creatures who have self awareness, a boon a blessing and also perhaps experienced as a curse, yet in the end our greatest gift. To seek truth is our true dignity, to ask questions our vocation. To deepen our understanding of the world, ourselves, God, should never be feared or rejected, for to stand still, not to question, is to stagnate, to build walls of fear, to suffocate. Each path has infinite depth, no need to jump from one belief to another, better to seek wisdom and truth in what one believes, that will keep anyone busy for lifetime, for mystery means a truth that will never be fully understood, yet understanding can grow eternally.
the key is easy (haiku chain)
04.24.08 (8:36 am) [edit]
The key is easy
taboos are not sins,
compulsions lack true freedom,
culture norms block real truth,
so just what is sin?
as I get older
I seem to understand more
about my own true nature,
yet ignorant still.
sin implies freedom
giving dignity to all,
showing we are not victims
for choice is involved.
we are not victims,
the message is there to see
it is best to have a sin
than bound by taboo.
victims of sin yes
sinned against more than sinners
compulsions fruit is the soil
where our chains are forged
yet there is true hope
for the Gideon knot we have
entangled, untie-able
mercy shows the way
the key is easy
though hard to live in true life
self contempt our enemy
that only love heals.
we love to grasp, cling,
to that which imprisons us
the power of sin still strong
yet mercy greater
Truth not the enemy
04.23.08 (4:19 pm) [edit] | |
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Truth not the enemy
So much debate going on today,
opinions strongly held,
defended with passion,
arguments making sense to the one spouting them,
to the one listening,
well perhaps it seems nonsense.
Words rightly said,
concepts told just so,
logic upheld,
by both sides none- the- less,
leading to nowhere
except perhaps to insults,
sneers;
some ugly shit goes on in the name of dialogue.
How easily childish we become,
I wonder if there are any adults at all,
perhaps we are still young adolescents,
a dangerous place for any species to be.
Everything is only opinion nowadays,
truth looking like a field flat and uninteresting,
with something small at times pushing through
then dying the death of philosophical fads,
or science becoming just another ideology
with its own form of orthodoxy.
Or faith based on fear,
allowing only what does not threatened through,
its interior only an empty tomb,
dead
it followers just do not know it.
Truth is not the enemy of anyone,
fear of it is;
perhaps beneath all the blah, blah, blah,
there is something that is not mere opinion
but rock bottom truth,
on which all else grows.
Perhaps we are all called to seek together,
listen,
learn,
and move forward,
that truth is not what is in my head,
or just what I believe,
but a mystery that ever deepens with maturity.
Over the edge
04.22.08 (3:28 pm) [edit] | |
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Over the edge
I often think about my childhood, and my memories go way back. I even have some recollections of being an infant, very mundane of course. One of my first is me trying to push a baby bottle filled with apple juice away out of my mouth, and my mother pushing it back in; I was stubborn from the beginning I think. It was one of those old fashioned baby bottles, glass, and how I hated the taste of apple juice, to this day not much of a fan. I have no idea why some memories seem to stay close to the surface while others disappear. Many of the events I can recall where not traumatic in any way, while others of course where, which caused a deep change in me. I suppose that some very deep traumatic episodes are completely buried for my own protection, well perhaps, for I don’t know, for hidden is hidden, won’t know till they surface. Of course over the years some have. For no matter how much I remember, there is much that I do not. I guess most of our days or consigned to oblivion, a good thing, for what would we do with all those memories. Being able to forget can be a blessing. Repression has its reasons, and when the time is right, perhaps some memories will arise to give us greater insight.
The older I get, the less I seem to know and understand about myself; for the deeper I go the less free I at times feel myself to be. I have some insight into some of my problems; the operative word here is ‘some’. While this is helpful, it still does not take away from some interior struggling to keep myself in balance. Of course I guess it is good to be dealing with pretty much the same things, even if at times I don’t fully understand the whys of it all. I think it would be very difficult to have to deal with some new kind of interior problem every week; the thought itself exhaust me.
When I do achieve a break through in my life, it seems to happen in spite of myself. It is like I spend a lot of time pounding my head or hands against a wall, then give up, just sit down, and suddenly without my even knowing it, I am on the other side. There must be processes that go on in us that are deep and cannot be directly observed, just the fruit of their activity experienced when it happens. Perhaps the struggling, failing, getting up are just ways to distract us from the deeper work that goes on. Jung states that the soul constantly moves towards integration, health, balance. I suppose a Christian way to state the same thing is it is grace at work. Perhaps life and grace are tightly woven together to make a tapestry out of both the inner and outer events of life.
I have cycles that I can’t seem to break; they seem to be part of my life that is important, even if at times I see only chaos and my own inadequacies, which are many. Yet I persist, what else can I do? Give up? Yeah right! I can’t think of anything more lame than giving up. Even if I am treading at times, it is better than sinking, for as long as there is life, there is hope. Even if I do sink, which could happen, it is a common occurrence, yet even then there is hope. Perhaps the struggle is not so much overcoming the inner chaos, but in simply not despairing. It seems that the falling and rising is the normal growth pattern for most of us humans, though I guess there are exceptions; I guess they are the saints, but even then I don’t know. Most struggles are interior, for we are inward creatures, subjective, with great depth even if at times that depth is buried in outward concerns and yes our inner turmoil.
We pass each other all the time; in airports, trains, at work, in malls, and yes in our cars. It is easy to forget that each one we pass has a deep inner universe filled with joy and yes sorrow, pain and chaos……and more often than not, the simple task, again often hidden, of just trying to get through the day without doing any damage to oneself or others. Random acts of kindness can be a great help to those around us, for they are often thought out, consciously acted upon, and based on true compassion. Random acts of cruelty are a different matter entirely. For they are often reactions, not thought out at all, not malicious, but none the less can be very harmful for those who are victim to them, as well as for the one who commits such acts. I suppose little acts, whether they are kind or cruel, can either heal or help to push someone over the edge. Life has a way of getting to us at times, so I think it is a good practice to be conscious of what mood one is having, so has not to be controlled by it.
Sometimes people do go over the edge, lose it, blow up, lash out, or withdraw inward into a dark bleak world of depression. I think it is good to have compassion on ourselves and others, especially when they sink for a time, I course some sink for good, and take others with them. The newspapers are filled with such stories. Yes we all have a hard journey. Such is life and we each have to find some way to make sense to it all. Even if we can find a way to deal with life, through faith for instance, it still will not make much sense for many. It often does not for me. There seems to be so much absurdity in life; chance, random events, or just plain luck at times seems to rule the day. Yet without that perhaps freedom of any sort would be impossible. For our lives do turn on a dime. Many each day find that out. We impose a certain order on our lives, a good thing, yet in the end the order is an illusion, for there are many kinds’ earthquakes, sudden happenings that change everything forever. What we thought was permanent is shown for what it is, a comforting, necessary illusion, so that we can simply live. I don’t think this outlook takes away from faith in any way, for me it only deepens it.
I am not sure I need answers any more, well perhaps I do; I am just getting more comfortable with living in a world where in spite of it all, most people seem to move forward. Those who don’t, well perhaps I am wrong in that, I misjudge. For paradox is also present in life, constantly turning over what we think is true, to see things on a slightly deeper level. I think however as I get older, I seem to have more faith in the simple process that we are all going through, that we are here for reasons we do not yet understand or comprehend.
As St. Paul says, “In Him we live and move and have our being”, there is no separation with God, we are one, God journeys with us in the dark night. Infinite love is not human love; it can be felt as harsh, cruel, when in fact it is not that at all. We are pilgrims, on a journey, and perhaps it is best to understand that we are on a fast train hurdling to our destination, and that train is time. Clinging is useless, best to let go, and in that final letting go hopefully it will not be so difficult. Little deaths along the way, some larger than others….. perhaps practice for the time that awaits us all; the stepping through the dark door, something it seems we all do alone, at least from this side of the exit.
A loving couple
04.21.08 (12:26 pm) [edit] | |
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A loving couple
It was just before lunch yesterday, I was working at the computer entering medicines when I got a call. Augustine notified me that someone had fallen in the church and asked if I could please come down and check. At first I hesitated, the nurse was not here, it was Sunday. Even if she was I am not sure it would be good for her to deal with the public at large. However, when I was told it was an elderly lady I decided it best for me to go, for fails can be very serious when past a certain age.
When I arrived I saw the women lying on the floor, her husband standing watch, with a small group of people gathered around. The husband had a walker and was keeping silent sentinel over her. The first thing I did was to get him a chair to set on and then knelt down next to the elderly women, took her hand in mine and asked her how she was doing. She smiled nervously and said she seemed to be ok. When I asked about pain, she pointed to her left hip. I told her that we needed to call 911, to get to the hospital and have her checked out. For there was a good chance, she could have at least a hair line fracture, so to move her could only make things worse, if that were the case. I called 911 and let them know the situation, also that she was not in any immediate danger, and so the fire department and lots of whistles and bells where not needed.
She was a very attractive woman, whom I could see took great pride in how she looked; she was also trying to be brave for her husband. I thought that I was going to have to drive the husband into the ER, but soon a young woman came forward, who said that she was their driver and all she needed was directions to the hospital. I gave her directions, also my cell phone number in case she needed anything.
As we were waiting for the ambulance I could not help but feel deeply for her. She seemed so vulnerable, scared, both for herself and her husband. So I told her not to worry. The fall did not seem bad, so even if there is a fracture; today they fix them up quickly and will have her on her feet in no time. She had no bone disease so that was in her favor. It seemed to help a little, there is so little that can actually be done for others; which at times is a cause of frustration for me.
After the ambulance came, the EMT’s allowed the husband to drive in with them, for they were inseparable, and the love they had for one another shown through in a gentle quiet dignity. It was difficult to get the husband into the Van, but one of the EMT’s put down a case and we were able to get him in.
It turned out that she did have a hair line fracture, and she was able to go home to Florida for the operation. The driver rented a car that allowed for the front seat to go back far enough where she could travel comfortably. I was a little nervous when I heard this, but from what I last heard they had arrived safely at the hospital, and no doubt the operation will be done today or tomorrow.
All in all I am glad that they called me. For I have learned from painful experience that when someone who is elderly falls, you best get it checked, to allow them to move could cause a hair line fracture to become worse and complicate matters. I did that once, a painful lesson for all concerned.
freedom
04.20.08 (4:41 pm) [edit] | |
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freedom
freedom is sought insistently,
the roads differ,
human alienation is carried by all;
pain,
anxiety,
boredom and ennui,
as well as deep joy and love,
anger and deep all consuming rage,
a strange mixture,
we all must carry down our unique paths
at times the road hard,
the burdens heavy and enduring
yet the search continues,
freedom
is in our sights,
oh yes
there is also
love.
Unknowns
04.19.08 (7:12 pm) [edit] | |
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unknowns
knowing what he wants to say
but can't,
on other days
he does not know he is caught,
has no idea what he is saying or doing,
imprisoned in a cycle of frustration ever deepening,
his life at the mercy of strangers,
for
all are unknowns now,
except for the ghost of his far past
who become mask on those who surround him.
Dementia's dance
04.19.08 (9:49 am) [edit] | |
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Dementia’s dance
Things move slow in the mind that is confused,
life seen as if in a fog,
yet the dark mist unperceived,
clear sight a painful illusion,
uncomprehending of how others treat them
or in the simple doing of what must be done,
for them their confusion is the only reality.
Each moment or situation has a life of its own,
a beginning, middle and an ending,
a bardo,
a place of continued changing,
nothing permanent,
constant flux,
a whole lifetime in a few moments,
then forgotten as if it did not happen,
until it has to be done again,
the stoic’s eternal return,
relived but not remembered.
So time shattered between the chaotic ‘now’,
then lost in the distant past
becoming present,
the experience going either way
bringing peace
or anger and deep suffering.
Life becoming a masquerade,
those there
wearing the faces
playing in events long past,
the roles played of those often long dead.
So much inner incomprehension
taken for simply ‘what is’,
a tragedy for both the one confused
and those who have to deal with it on a daily basis.
Yet it is not all bad,
for forgetfulness is also a blessing,
the good moments just as powerful as the bad,
the laughter there,
the pleasure of food,
good memories becoming alive,
surrounded by friends only they can see,
yet real none the less,
at least for them.
Faith also never leaves for those who are blessed with it,
often giving a center to simply ‘be’,
a place to stand,
pray,
and seek some answers,
when the searching is possible,
and
when that goes,
well,
God is ever faithful
present in a place more real,
eternal,
just below the chaos and shattering
until the time
when
it all ends,
and the essential unity revealed.
bound
04.18.08 (8:23 am) [edit] | |
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bound
yet fear often keeps us bound,
for walls must come down often
for freedom to live
bound
04.18.08 (8:19 am) [edit] | |
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bound
yet fear often keeps us bound,
for walls must come down often
for freedom to live
His benign smile
04.17.08 (12:43 pm) [edit]
His benign smile
I went into Philip’s room this morning to see how he was doing. I guess Philip has been here the longest of anyone. I think he started living in this unit in the early 90’s; he needed to be supervised because of his angina. He was a very nervous man, introverted, cautious in most things that he did. At about the same time, he also had a pacemaker put in, which keeps his heart at an even 60 beats a minute, come rain or shine, his heart beats the same.Sally was with him as I walked in. She is a volunteer, a retired Nurse, who worked many years at St Joseph’s ER for many years. She comes in two times a week, most times, helps with the baths, bed changes, and also feeds Philip. She is a wonderful lady and it is always a joy to be around her. She is witty, intelligent, and a very devout Christian, a Catholic and proud of it.
Philip has Alzheimer’s; been stricken with it for many years. In fact he has outlived everyone who was here when he first entered. For him it is not too bad. He is peaceful, happy most days, easy to take care of, and looks upon the world with a sort of benign smile constantly on his face. Some days he can feed himself, but more often than not he has to be fed. So that was what Sally was doing. As is his wont, he does have good days and bad, thought the good far outweigh the bad; a blessing, both for him and also for those who take care of him. This morning he seemed a little glum, so I tried to cheer him up, this did not work however.
Phillip had a sister named Ada, with whom he was very close. However they were polar opposites when it came to personality types. He was a very intense, nervous introvert, while Ada on the other hand was a rollicking extrovert. Always laughing, joking, and playing around. We in fact became very close. When she would come for a visit, I would often pick her up at the airport, and she would insist on taking me to lunch. We always had a very good time. So I started talking to Phillip about his sister Ada. I always get a reaction when I do this. As we talked he started to smile, then tears fell, but the smile remained. We talked about how she would tire him out with her being so outgoing, and he laughed a little at that, for though he loved her she did get on his nerves at times. Ada knew this and so some times she would only stay for an hour or so in the morning and see him again in the afternoon; she understood him very well. Yet they did love each other very much. She died a few years ago of cancer, and Philip and I often talk about her, for I to miss her. So he got emotional about her as we talked. As I was leaving he grabbed my hand and whispered, “thank you”. Even though he has Alzheimer’s, his memory from the past is often still very good. It is the present that he gets confused about.
Philip is one of the quiet ones, been here for a long time. I get into the habit of thinking he will be here forever, but I know that one day, most likely soon, he will leaver us. I think it will take a bit of getting used to, not seeing his gently smile looking out benignly on the world, blessing us with his gentle presence.
it's fruit
04.16.08 (4:20 pm) [edit] | |
it's fruit
it's drops feed the dry earth;
black roses its fruit