talking to myself

The trip

The trip begins today,

Sixteen days….

Before I even begin

I know it will be over.

I will be back as if I haven't been away.

Time folds upon itself,

The future becomes present, and then past,

Moments become one,

The days, weeks, months, years,

Meld, and only memories remain.

Time does not flow,

It races, not a river at all,

But like the rapids,

Flash floods,

Rough waters

Propelling us forward

Without regard to our desire

To grasp the moment

We keep nothing

We are naked but just don't know it.

I will enjoy my trip,

But it will be over before I know it,

Like I have never been…..

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Opus Dei:An Objective Look

Opus Dei:An Objective Look Behind the Myths and Reality of the Most Controversial Force in the Catholic Church
 
by John L. Allen, Jr.
Doubleday, 2005
review by Mitch Finley

Catholic Church watchers and Dan Brown fans alike will surely welcome the publication of this new book by John Allen (Vatican correspondent for The National Catholic Reporter), which may prove to be the best book on Opus Dei for a long time to come. Opus Dei (Latin for “the work of God”) is an international association of conservative Catholics, which Allen describes as “the most controversial force in Roman Catholicism.” Making use of thorough, if not exhaustive, research, Allen divides his study into four sections: essentials about Opus Dei, a long look inside Opus Dei, serious questions about Opus Dei, and a summary evaluation. On all counts Allen is fair, frequently putting to rest inaccurate opinions about or judgments of Opus Dei. At the same time, when he sees warts on Opus Dei’s face, Allen shines on each the bright light of day.

If you want to hear from critics of Opus Dei, including ex-members, you’ll find their voices here. If you want to know what dedicated apologists for Opus Dei have to say, you’ll find them here, too. The author’s account of the life of the founder of Opus Dei, Father Josémaria Escrivà de Balaguer (1902-1975)—officially canonized a saint by Pope John Paul II in 2002, amidst considerable controversy—is enlightening, and does away with some of the more common assumptions about him, particularly among liberal Catholics. In fact, Escrivà seems to have been a more theologically balanced person, particularly on the pastoral level, than he is sometimes said to have been. Allen does a remarkable job of addressing questions about Escrivà including the nature of his relationships with Hitler and Spanish dictator Francisco Franco. He also discusses the ways in which Escrivà responded to the Second Vatican Council and how he approached his role as a spiritual teacher.

Particularly interesting and enlightening is Allen’s discussion of what Escrivà was like in person. More than a few films were made of Escrivà speaking before audiences and even responding to questions from audience members. “The first impression one gets from watching Escrivà ‘live,’” Allen writes, “is his effervescence, his keen sense of humor. He cracks jokes, makes faces, roams the stage, and generally leaves his audience in stitches in off-the-cuff responses to questions from people in the crowd.”

Escrivà was filmed expressing “great affection” for Muslims. A man who was Catholic but whose mother was Presbyterian asked Escrivà what he could do to bring his mother into the Catholic Church. Escrivà responded, “Do your work well. Be a good son, a faithful husband, and for the rest, be patient”—a response that would sit well with even the most progressive Catholics.

Allen concludes that “even as a flawed human being, there is testimony that Escrivà changed people’s lives for the better, giving them a sense of being loved by God and called to help build God’s reign.”

Author Allen concludes with remarks that sum up the spirit of his book as a whole:

…my own sense is that things inside Opus Dei aren’t so bad—or at least they’re much better than is sometimes believed. Paradoxically, I suspect that the people of Opus Dei would be more successful in convincing the rest of the world of that if they took a breather from extolling the virtues of Saint Josemaria, or the great principle of sanctification of work, and showed us a bit more about where they’re vulnerable, flawed, and in need of help…

John L. Allen, Jr.’s Opus Dei is an informative, expertly researched and written study written in a lively and frequently entertaining style. It deserves a great many readers.

Copyright ©2005 Mitch Finley

To purchase a copy of OPUS DEI..., visit amazon.com.  

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Dare I hope?

As I get older

And my strength slowly fades

My heart it seems is becoming more alive,

Sensitive, open, to the experience that presents itself,

That allows emotions to surface,

That in younger years I did not know really existed.

Anger, rage, resentment yes,

Wanting to fight of course,

Normal for me,

Comfortable with it,

Thought not always happy…..

I have known struggle

Intimate knowledge of my primitive self,

The caveman, with club in hand

Wanting the freedom to just act,

Not daring,

Knowing the wrongness of the action,

If not the raw  emotion.

Now…..

Music, movies, the sight of a child,

Stirs my heart,

And I fear that it will burst,

So unused it is in this regard…..

Astounded at the force of it,

The power…..

Afraid of not knowing how to let it be.

Not like anger at all,

But the source is the same,

The energy deep in my soul….

Oh when will I be free to truly let it arise (?)

An alien landscape for me

Slowly coming to form

Still seeing thru a haze

Of the promise of a better,

Freer life, were my feelings and emotions,

Will flow freely like a river,

Without obstruction

Or turbulence that is my lot,

Is it possible?

Do I dare hope?

Yes!

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My heart

My heart is such an enigma to me
fervent one day
filled with joy and prayer
running the race
seeming to fly

The next day;
struggle with myself,
my desires, and compulsions,
fears, and anxieties,
sinking calling on God\'s name.

The chains that bind me
bring me to my knees,
fighting conversion,
and desiring it,
with inner frustration

God draws near,
the struggle remains,
I am loved too much
for anything to be taken away;
I am called to stay on the journey

My wounds and failures
perhaps are as important
as my victories
my imperfections and sins
taken up in God's compassion and mercy

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A trip

I am going to go home tomorrow for two weeks and looking forward to the trip.

I will be making two stops, one in Texas, to see my brother and two sisters who live there; be there for 7 days, then go to Vancouver to stay with my sister and her husband.

It will be good to get away and be disconnected from my job, no phone ringing, no dealing with problems at work, time to just have a relaxing good time.

I always come back refreshed when I am gone for a full two weeks, though I want to return after I am gone for one week.  One week does not do it.  I tried it, coming back too early does not work, I need the two weeks.  The one week of missing work, and the people I work with, seems just as important as the first week when I am glad to be away.

One thing that helps me, I am not indispensable, no one is, we can all be replaced.  Knowing that gives me a certain freedom, quiets that part of me that wants to believe that the work place revolves around me; well it does not, thank God.  I have seen people burn out pretty quickly thinking that, they tend to micro manage, the fruit being that people are afraid to do anything on their own.  It is better to encourage everyone to look around, and do what needs to be done; do it themselves or go to the one in charge and let them know.

It is a good job, very meaningful for me, taking care of others, being with them to the end, but common sense has to be used, if not then burn out usually follows in close pursuit.   Our gifts have an underside; compulsive and demanding that has to be dealt with or being a caregiver can soon lead to resentment, a clear sign that a change of thinking and doing is needed, sinse too much is being taken on.   Boundaries and keeping them are important, not only with those I take care of, but also with those with whom I work.  Patients have rights, and as long as they are not doing something that is dangerous to themselves or others then they should be allowed to do as much as they can.  Being direct also helps, steady, stern if needed (rarely needed), and also just letting the one being taken care of that they are loved, while showing some understanding of how they feel getting old and sick, with their ability to take care of themselves slowly fading.  After all one day I will be there, if I live long enough.  I have an idea I will spend a good amount of time when very old saying to myself, “so that is what it was like”.

One last thing on the boundary thing, I don’t always succeed with using the “common sense” thing, hence my need of a vacation.  Common sense has to be learned over and over and over and over again by me……I am tad slow sometimes.

Peace

Mitch

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Just hang on

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The most common gift

Of all God’s gifts
Bestowed on our race,
Dancing is one of the greatest,
The most common,
The most enjoyed
Over all the rest,
The movement with the sound,
The fire in the veins,
The ecstasy,
The madness,
Being enveloped by rhythm,
Flying upward with the beat,
Diving into the sound,
Laughing for the joy of it all;
The sweat running down the body,
Gleaming on the skin,
Salty, pungent,
Burning and blurring the eyes,
Ignored for the movement
The happiness
Contentment…..
Flying in ecstatic joy.
In heaven I will dance
Others can sing
For movement
The way I express myself
And perhaps give glory
To God.

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Talk with my uncle

Talk with my Uncle

Well the years fly by don't they?

only three of us left

out of eight.

My wife is gone

God I miss her,

can't believe that she loved me,

I was lucky,

Glad that I could take care of her

in her last illness;

a long fight that she lost,

but she tried,

she got so tired in the end you know,

could not hang on.

I volunteer with St Vincent’s

keeps me busy

away from the taverns

it is good to help others

those who have less than me

who have never had what I had,

that is now gone,

but no regrets.

I would do it all over

if I had too.

I miss your Aunt Ann

my beloved wife.

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The white gate

The gate gleamed, white as bone,

Teeth spaced evenly,

Sharp, pointed, defending

From life, its hurts, and losses…..

To close brings a peace

A solitude that numbs.....

Feeling nothing,

Being safe from what is outside.

With a price, steep indeed,

Demanding everything

For the gates protection…..

The cold feel nothing

Already dead or perhaps just dying

In the end it is the same

The gates close never to open again.

Left alone in eternal solitude

So fight for life,

For feeling,

The ability to feel both joy and pain;

Each has its place

For without one or the other

Only flatness remains…..

A listless nothingness,

A repetition of moments

Without color or depth…..

Let in the light

The warmth that it brings ,

The painful growth that follows,

The journey that it is,

That makes up our lives,

With it peaks and valleys

Till it ends

    & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;   &nbs p;     ;         & nbsp;   &n bsp;   &nb sp;

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Anger both sides

Anger is a form of insanity

Left unchecked

Defensive it is, overly focused,

Protected behind walls of defense;

Judging what is just and fair,

Though revenge is the fruit

That is often sought.

The reasons for it are good.

We always have good answers,

Seemingly thought out,

Until reason returns

And the shame is all that is left.

Anger controlled

Gives energy and power,

To correct wrongs,

Protect the innocent,

Defend the defenseless.

To speak up not caring

What others think,

But seeking only true justice

And balance,

In a world overcome

With the downtrodden

And the helpless

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Emund's treatments

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Before God's love

Before God's love

there are no teeming masses,

no groups,

nor stereotypes,

or boxes to fit them in.

No colors

or countries…..

perhaps no religion also.

as we understand.

Only the relationship,

the longing,

and pursuing

of each heart;

made for union

with the Presence,

the Father of lights,

bought at a great price,

with a love stronger

than death itself.

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Ahhhh Fall

The fall is my favorite time of the year,

Crisps air, allowing me to breath,

Taking in deep breaths

And exhaling slowly.

The nights clear;

The moon bright easily seen.

The thought of apples,

Never far from the surface,

Crisp, juicy, and tart.

The woods again become inviting,

The carpet of leaves

Begging to be played in;

An ocean of different colors,

Announcing the rest

That fall signifies…..

Also our mortality,

The every changing

Seasons of life

That nothing can slow down

Or stop.

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Marcellus

When I first started taking care of Marcellus he was 88 years old, still physically strong, with a mind of his own, and he was always ready to let you know just what was on it.  He had a well organized mind, though I don’t think he was all that intelligent.   He had everything thought out, organized, and could stand up for himself, and would, no matter who that person happened to be, and I don’t think he really cared if you agreed with him or not; he just loved to argue.

Over all I enjoyed him, since I could butt heads with him on a regular basis, something we both seemed to enjoy.  I remember one incident that happened in 1989.  It was in the middle of winter, about 30 degrees out side, so it was a cold day in Georgia.  I walked in his room and saw something truly unique in how it was presented to me.  He had his heat on, the fan running, and his air conditioning window unit, running full blast.  He was sitting in the middle of the room, looking very comfortable and content.  As soon as I walked in he looked at me, and said in no uncertain terms for me to leave everything alone, since he had the room exactly the way he wanted it.  Hmmmmmm I thought, no harm being done, best to leave this one alone and save my energy for the real battles that sometimes needed to be played out, for his own safety and well being.  So I said, fine, no problem, would not want to upset his eco-system, that he spent so much time perfecting.
I was on my way out, when he mentioned that he would like for me to take the front off the floor fan, since it stopped 30% of the air flow.  I was a little stunned by this revelation, so I asked him were he got this information?  He informed me that he figured it out on his own, and if I would please be kind enough to take the front off for him.  I told him “no”, because being in his 90”s, he could easily fall on the fan, or get his bath robe stuck in the blades; in other words it was dangerous.  He looked at me and said “God help us”, one of his favorite sayings, and I informed him to please not bring God into this; this was between him and me.  He said ok, we will see.  I left the room knowing this was not the end of the discussion, it never was between us.  Like I said however, I really did enjoy him, and I think he enjoyed the sparring, not only with me, but with everybody; my head just happened to be as hard as his, hence the ongoing relationship.
The next morning, as I was beginning my shift, I checked in on Marcellus to find the fan running, air conditioning and heat on; just one difference, the front of the fan was off.  He
said the it was none of my business about the fan, so please just leave it alone.  I said fine, I won’t make it my business, at least about trying to talk to him.  So I picked up the fan and walked out of the room, with him following me yelling for me to put the fan back.  Knowing that this was the only way for me, I continued on down the hall, with some people looking out of the rooms at me, some were laughing since they knew about our on going dialogue about how things should be done.

He would not talk to me for three days, which was not really all that easy, but I held out.  Finally on the third day he asked that I please return the fan.  That was my cue to sit down and have a talk with him.  We had a lot over the years, and I knew when he would listen to me.  So we spent about 30 minutes going over my duties, how I was responsible for his safety, and how I could not allow an uncovered floor fan in his room.  He tried to argue with me over the 30% flow problem, but I told him that even if it were true (don’t know if it is, but doubt it), I could still not allow it in his room.  So he agreed, and I brought the fan in, and he did not remove the cover anymore.  I left and took two Excedrin, and felt better in no time.

 Since I really cared for him, and though it was at times humorous what went on, at least for those who worked with me; it was not always easy to be firm with him…. but I had to be, for his own safety.  He seemed to know this, because once I did not come to work for three days, and when I returned he started crying, thinking I was mad at him and would not work with him anymore.  So we had another talk, me saying that in spite of his being so stubborn, I really did like working with him, and not to worry about it.  After that I always let him know when I would be away for a few days.

He is another one that I miss, colorful, strong in his own way, blunt, truthful, and he did his best, at least in my opinion.  There was hardly an ounce of passive aggression in him, something that I really liked, and appreciated, better to know where you stand, the dance is easier that way.

Peace
Mitch

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Our Journey

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People seek

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Time wasted

Precious time can be spent,

Wasted,

Thrown away,

Trying to change someone else;

As if I know what is best for them,

Like I know better than them;

What should be done,

How and when…….

Even if this is true

It will do no good,

For each must learn for themselves,

Fail,

Make mistakes,

Perhaps even ruin their lives.

Nothing can be done,

Forced,

Or guilt used,

That will change the course

The other has chosen..

Beat my head against the wall,

Stop, and then do it again

Till I am senseless,

Angry, and in pain

I wonder who beats

Their head

Against the wall

 For me?

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Ready if not waiting

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Treading

What does it mean to follow some sort of spiritual path?  From my experience, to seek to grow in my relationship with God, and to deepen my knowledge of my own particular religious traditions, is not always easy.  One reason it is not easy, is because I am simply lazy at times, and refuse to move forward, to tread water so to speak. The problem being; treading in itself, takes a lot of energy, that goes nowhere, and in the end you either have to sink, give up, or start swimming again.

Treading is hard work, seeking to avoid doing what must be done in order to grow, deepen, and to perhaps even heal.  There are all kinds of things that I do to tread water….my favorite, and the one that gives me little rest or consolation, is to simply become very distracted, to make it impossible for me to settle down, to just move from one “thing”, one “event” to another.  When doing this, one moment seems disconnected from the next, it just blindly stepping forward hoping that whatever it is I will be doing will make me feel better.  In the end of course this is an absurd situation, since I fell worse as time goes on.  Scattering energy never works for very long; if it works at all.

Something analogous to this is something I experienced when I worked as a laborer for a few months, for a construction firm.  It was in 1976, and I was staying with my brother and sister-in-law for awhile, trying to figure some things out.  So I got simple jobs to just make money to live on, but nothing permanent, since I knew that I was not going to stay in that particular area.  I found that trying not to do my job, just being lazy, was actually harder than just doing it.  No matter how boring the work was on some days, it was better to dive in and just do it, than trying to avoid the work boss and just doing nothing.  So on bad days, I just made myself do my job; after a while I felt better, and time certainly went a lot faster. 

I guess it is the same in the spiritual life, doing what I know I need to do; times of prayer, spiritual reading, writing in my journal.... just being in God’s presence brings me to a place were I feel I am at home; the events that happen during the day seem more connected, since I am more centered and focused in what I am doing.  I don’t feel the urgency to escape the moment and flee into the next. 

Trying to escape only increases the feelings alienation and rootless- ness that comes over me from time to time.  It takes some effort to work against that wall of resistance to settle in, but as I get older I am learning to keep pushing, or perhaps to just keep on keeping on, and soon I will break thru, if not, that is ok also.  Keeping on the path in a period of dryness is still better than wandering in the desert looking for an oasis to drink from.  For the oasis in within, not without.

I am still struggling with this, getting better yes, but I will probably be dealing with this till the day I die.  Just like so many other things that I have to deal with......I am a piece of work no doubt about it.

Peace

Mitch

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My time with Dad

When I was a teenager in Panama, I usually went to bed during the week before 10 PM, but on weekends I tended to stay up later.  Sometimes Dad would also stay up watching the television, and I enjoyed just being with him.  Having so many brothers and sister did not give any of us much time to just “be” with Dad; he was either at work, driving us somewhere, or in bed early during the week.  Also his time was so stretched that he simply did not have the energy to give us much individual attention, though as a group he did a lot for us.  He was always driving us, here, there and everywhere.  Something I took over when I could drive, and it really got busy after my older brother Robert joined the Air force in 1966.  I used to get so tired of driving, that on weekends I would just walk to the teen club, just to get away from the car.

Dad like classical music, and on Fridays he like to watch the Philharmonic Orchestra which was  shown at that time on the TV.  It came on at 11PM to about 12:30.  Every once in awhile, just before it started, he would say, Mark lets go to Margarita and get some cokes and peanuts.  So off we would go, since for me it was a real treat, and I liked just being with Dad.  He was not a big talker, though he was perhaps one of the friendliest men you would want to met.  He had the ability to make everyone comfortable, always seemed interested in them, and when he left people tended to feel better for having spent some time with him.  In the Margarita club house he was well known, and when he came in the lady behind the counter would have everything there for him; she got it ready when she saw him coming in thru the door.  She had readied 4 cokes, and two cans of cocktail peanuts (planters brand of course); he spent a few minutes with her and we returned home.

I liked listening to classical when I was with Dad, but when by myself it tended to put me to sleep.  My dad was from a family that was well to do, so he was raised with a love of the classics, so I thought that just listening with him somehow got me in touch with his past.  Growing up in Panama, we were far from both sides of the family, so in a way they were all a mystery to me.  I was ten when we moved away, and while we did see his family a couple of times a year, they were still not known well by any of us. 

One of my earliest memories, of listening to music with dad, happened when I was perhaps two or three.  I remember being with him driving down a country lane; he had on classical music, and I was enthralled by how the scenery seemed to fit in so well with the  rhythm…… the graceful movement of the leaves on the trees, the dust on the road, birds flying overhead….. everything seemed to be in sync with the music, flowing from the radio.  Strange that I had to unlearn my love of classical music, I guess I forgot how to listen to it.  With my dad I guess I captured it for awhile, and now that I am older am starting to love it again.

To this day, a coke and some cocktail peanuts are one of my favorite’s snacks, and I suppose it is because of that simple memory of being with dad, listening to classical tunes, and just enjoying the food, and each others company.

Peace

Mitch

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Louie continued

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We are all so young

We are one Lord,
Before your loving gaze,
Nothing secret,
Before your compassionate sight;
Our sins and strengths,
Failures, and victories,
Stand naked in your sight.
Your mercy severe
At times hard;
Experienced as cruel….
Like children we judge,
Our understanding shallow….
 We are all so young.
The wisest understand little,
The most foolish are the same.
The difference is trust;
Faith in times of darkness,
Hope in times of despair,
Love in times of loneliness and isolation.
Stronger than death is love,
Its fire hotter than the sun,
Yet soothing like a gentle breeze.
We are so blinded by the light
That we see only darkness;
That leads to abandonment,
A letting go into freedom,
The tyranny of doubt
Seen for what it is…
A call to go deeper,
Into the presence
Of the wholly other…

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Its pretended slumber

Joy is something often forgotten,
That lies deep below the daily grind,
Aggravation and problems, of daily life.
Resting, sleeping; waiting to be awakened
From its pretended slumber;
Seemingly indifferent, to the inner suffering,
Hidden from others, that is our common fate.
Isolated and alone we seem,
Not comprehending the meaning of others,
Being misunderstood our selves
That deepens the illusion of isolation
An ever deepening cycle
Making the illusion stronger and even real
Until joy awakens from it pretended slumber
Revealing the beauty of a child, leaf, or beloved other
Taken for granted for so long,
It is all grace, there hidden, but real
If we only allow it to awaken
From its pretended slumber

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Louie

Louis  Galletti, was one of the men who I have taken care of over the years, probably the most colorful, intelligent and complex, and because of the most memorable.  He had numerous physical handicap’s that he had to deal with over the years, but they never keep his exuberant spirit down for long.  His hearing had been well below average all of his life, and because of his age, he would be in his 90’s if he was still alive today....He did not have the luxury of hearing aids when he was young, and being poor he could not have afforded them anyway.  From what he communicated to me, he came over by himself as a very young lad from Italy, and had a hard time of it just making a living.  He also had a speech impediment due most likely to his hearing problem.  To top it off, in 1968 he had to have one leg amputated because of bone cancer; which he never really got over.  He thought the doctor could have done something else for him; so once in awhile out of the blue he would start on a rant about the doctor, then it subsided for another month or so. Nothing passive aggressive about this guy. He also had severe phantom pains, that would cause him to yell out very loudly when the pains would hit him, but thankfully they would only last for a short while, and he would soon be back to his old self once again.

He was always cheerful, at least with me…… was reading all the time; could expound on Tiehard De Chardin for hours on end, and always had one of his books in hand.  Because of his hearing disability and poverty, he was never able to get a good education, which I feel was a great loss, for I think that he was a natural philosopher who was never able to learn how to express his thoughts in such a way that others could follow him.

Toward the end of his life I used to get him up in the morning, and the first thing I would do is his give him a pain pill, and his “pick me up” as he would call it; just orange juice, but something he always loved.  One morning he was feeling really bad and kept saying, my Kinks, my Kinks, I have so many Kinks; he then looked at me, smiled and said, “but who would Louie be without his kinks”, then he laughed, and I  whisked him off to the shower.  How I got him to take a shower everyday, and get to like it, is another story that I may tell later.

Louie was “himself” in the extreme, not in any kind of “in your face” way, but just quietly “himself”.  One day he was at a table talking to some guest that came in, and without batting an eye, he calmly reached under the table; pulled off his artificial leg, pulled it out, and used it as a prop for this left arm pit.  He had no idea the effect it would have on people!  Some smiled, one laughed, and two others just went blank, and very quietly got up and left the table.  I was in the back of the room, and when I saw it, and I had to run into the kitchen because I was laughing so hard and loudly.  Yes he was “himself”, no doubt about it.

I still miss him, though he has been dead for almost 15 years now, a very unique man indeed.

Peace

Mitch

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Regret

Things are taken for granted

Until they are gone,

Taken away

Or perhaps lost;

Gone like the morning mist

Never to return

Or be seen again.

Then mourning comes,

And the regret

Of our taking for granted,

For that which

Is now gone,

Never to return.

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An inponderable

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Adrift

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The Lord's gaze

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3-11 shift

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Bill (continued)