Questions
06.30.06 (3:41 pm) [edit]
| Who seeks (?), What is it that pursues us (?), Down the corridors of time of each small life So quickly over with nothing to mark its passing, Forgotten in short order by all. Grace of offering being the stable point, In the depths, Waiting, In patience infinite, Centered unmoving. While all else changes in rapid sequence Moving towards greater chaos and dysfunction; With dying being the end for all. Each death is the end of the universe, The dark valley entered by each one by one; Entrance or exit (?), The end or beginning (?); The eternal nagging inner debate Allowing no real rest for those who question. As death’s dark door opens, What is it that awaits us (?), That has pursued us all of our days (?), A foolish dream mocking, Or truth beyond all knowing, Love beyond imagining (?) |
Pursued
06.29.06 (4:15 pm) [edit]
Pursued
The gift of melody with it different rhythms,
Soft, and gentle, soothing the soul;
Or fast pounding in its is presentation,
Causing the blood to burn as it flows,
Bringing life and the joy of movement to the fro,
Is like an arrow with it point aflame
Piercing the heart causing waters to burst forth,
A fountain of healing mist
Bringing life to an otherwise inner desert,
Parched and longing,
Thirsting for the living stream
Which only certain melodies can release.
Bringing freedom for a short time;
The veil thins and the Eternal one draws close,
Catching the one listening unawares in its embrace,
Allowing the inner depths already known by God
To be seen and felt by the one sought after.
Until
The song ends
The heart once again closes
And vigilance returns,
Until once again caught unawares
By that which pursues
Back and forth and in the middle
06.28.06 (10:33 am) [edit] Back and forth and in the middle There are times As the wheel of life turns; Energy low, Interest nowhere to be found, Seeing life in tones of grey, Only desiring sleep without dreaming. To just forget Rest in oblivion, No stress to bother nor worry. No affliction of the mind, The heart asleep It restless search for a time at peace At other times the world seems to be afire with beauty Energy enough to have interest in all that comes; Time for friends, Life seen in vibrant colors Aglow with excitement and passion Each state moving back and forth One replacing the other, With long period in the flatlands, In betwixt these extremes Perhaps the better place to be; But all are necessary, Each bringing the other into existence By this dance of going back and forth, Up and down, The wheel ever turning, The search continues Seeking balance and sanity Often not found, Though the search interesting Perhaps never to end |
Moods
06.27.06 (11:56 am) [edit]
Well I sighed to myself late yesterday afternoon, looked at myself in the rearview mirror in the car and said: a mood is coming on. I sometimes get raw around the edges, in which everything bothers me, the phone ringing, someone wanting my attention, perhaps the chores I know that need to be done but don’t want to do them. It feels like things are piling up, which leads to the emotion of being closed in and perhaps even trapped, and I hate that feeling on any level, of being closed in.
I was on my way to the hospital when this mood starting to peek from my inner landscape, and tried at first to get away from it. I turned on the radio, nothing like a bit of noise to help me to get away from my inner nagging. My inner child to use an outmoded 80’s expression, getting ready to have a tantrum of some sort; which can be very unpleasant for all involved. When I am going thru this kind of thing, I always feel like I am a child, perhaps five or six, not yet rational just wanting everything to go my way; a don’t bother me kind of thing. Well of course nothing on the radio helped. The music sounded like static, talk radio irritated me, and traffic as usual was a mess. So to top off my feeling like an irrational five or six year old, add a bit of paranoia (the universe is out to get me) on top of it and you have a nice little cocktail, the kind that does not make one nice. So I knew I had better be careful around everyone, watch what I say and do, and don’t get aggressive behind the wheel. When this happens I give myself plenty of room with the car in front of me, let people in, and stop for yellow lights, if the one behind me is not also having an inner child episode of the Prozac order also. There are a signs that is may be happening to my fellow traveler; if I see his headlights in my rearview mirror, and can see the whites of his eyes, I then think I might be better to go on thru the yellow light. Perspective is important.
Made my visit, which went ok, I don’t think the person I was seeing saw the inner grinding of teeth I was gong thru, well it was not that bad, but I was glad when the visit was over. Why take it out on the person in front of me, it is my stuff……Noth ing like going to visit someone in the hospital and dumping on him or her, a good way to end a friendship.
Well this morning it was still there, like a faithful friend waiting to start over again with its inner dialogue that seems to have a life of its own. Well it does, it is a tape, and a well used one to be sure. In fact there are many tapes with slightly different plots, with different villains that I have grown used to, even if I have not learned to really relax and enjoy them.
I remember a few years back, how far back I don’t know, time is such a blur, when I was in midst of this kind of thing, when suddenly I realized that I was watching the whole thing like I was in a movie theater with popcorn, watching it all. Who is the one watching I asked myself, and who is the one in the movie acting all of this out? This led me to think more about the subject, and over the years very slowly to be sure, it has helped me to get a grip over the moods that seem to swim up from the depths like a hungry shark looking to feed.
I think the inner fantasies have their root in scapegoating. Trying to find someone I can dress up in the proper costume, make into the villain and then at least in the inner realm of my soul, have at him or her. The only problem with this is that it does not work. I wish it did but it doesn’t. What happens is the tape just keeps running over and over again, since there is not way for closure in such a case. So one day, again a few years back this word floated to the surface, the word was “illusion”, this whole thing is not real. An obvious statement, but at the time for me it was not, it was a sort of a revelation. On some level I believed that this scapegoating ritual had some element of truth to it, but I now know it was just a way for my inner frustration and anger to present itself to me. So now when one of the tapes start, I watch it for a short time and then say, “this is not true, nor is it a good way to deal with my mood”. This usually helps a lot and often the mood dissipates, or if not, its hold on me is not as strong as it was in the past.
I can’t always come to a point were I can give myself an answer about this or even fully understand what is going on, but I can find better ways to deal with simple moodiness, and in the process not take it out on those around me, even if it is only in the inner realm. When I do this kind of thing, I just make myself a victim, which is a colossal waste of time, even if some pleasure of the melancholy sort is achieved in doing so.
I know that I am responsible on how I deal with these moods, also need to find out ways to lessen their effect on my life. Sleep helps, getting enough of it, also just taking time for myself, which I try to do, but no matter what I do to help, moods happen, being alive will assure me of this. Making others the recipient of my moodiness is wrong and unjust, though at times I still do it, and if I catch myself I go and apologies.
I know that I stay away from moody people who lash out at others, and will not take responsibility for the pain that they seem to spray out at anyone within firing range; sort of like using an emotional shotgun. Being moody and not knowing what one is doing allows the inner tapes to incarnate and become reality, and life can become a nightmare with no way out, since people for the most part don’t like to be scapegoated and will defend themselves to the best of their ability, whatever that is.
Clouds
06.26.06 (6:37 pm) [edit]Clouds
The clouds so beautiful
Their forms diverse ever changing
Flowing from one form into another
In an effortless dance
Moving to an inner rhythm
Unheard
But the beauty of movement there for all to see
In silence profound
The rift
06.25.06 (12:11 pm) [edit]The rift
Faith in what…..
In what can be seen,
Or felt,
Held in ones arms?
Believing in something
Unfelt,
Hidden deep within the nature of things
Seen but as through a veil
Can seem to be impossible
Absurd
Irrational
A flight of fancy
Is it intuition that brings this about,
A hidden touch
An experience
Useless to try to explain?
Some have it some don't
The rift betwixt immense
Each seeing the other from a distance
Contempt easy
What if?
06.23.06 (9:50 am) [edit]
| ||
 I wonder how things would change, If it is even possible, Perhaps only by grace can such a thing happen, If when looking into the face of a person truly evil, Or thought to be so by human standards, By any standard if the truth be told, One who has caused pain and misery Beyond comprehension On untold numbers. What if Looking upon such a one. Hated. Reviled by all, What if by a miracle of grace and healing, We saw a creature Loved infinitely by God How would that change the world? What would stop? What would flower? What pain would be healed? Would our souls change? Expand? What would happen to our hearts? |
The great difficulty
06.22.06 (11:20 am) [edit]
The inner world that each person has is truly an amazing phenomenon taken for granted; something so obvious and that often does not get much thought or attention. Yet it is what goes on in the inner universe that leads to the many different interpretation about what is really going on in the world outside, the world looked upon and the illusion that goes with it…… that objectivity is somehow reached in how events and people are weighed and judged.
I lug around with me almost 58 years of experiences, the majority buried deep, sleeping, but the effects of the past still have a powerful influence on how I live my life and interact with others. There is no such thing as ‘real’ objectivity when it comes to interpersonal communication, there are just too many lenses that are used when looking, listening, or reading….. and those that I meet; are also experiencing reality through their own set of lenses. I suppose it can be very frustrating for many to think that they are being misunderstood, well they are, but the fact of the matter is, that is the norm most of the time. It is only when the conversation goes deeper, and the art of seeking to understand and listen reaches it limits, that the light dawns that communication is spotty at best, and for it to be good a great deal of energy is needed by both sides in seeking understanding of the others viewpoint. Even with that, the desired outcome is often a disappointment.
Intuition and empathy can be very helpful, but intuition can often be wrong, and empathy can be so mixed up with the one empathizing that boundaries are lost, and instead of communication, one is actually incorporated in the others perspective, the viewpoint of the one listening lost.
Two people meet for a conversation, both in their fifties, both from diverse backgrounds, and both having difficulty in understanding the others point of view. Well no wonder, there is over a hundred years of experience between the two, add in projection, transference and things can get really foggy. Knowing this is not always helpful since it can actually put the one knowing in a disadvantage, since doubt enters into the equation, while the other not understanding, plows on, sure of the rightness and objectivity of his or her stance.
It can sometimes seem to be that each of us is trapped by our own inwardness, and the illusion of the rightness of it, in how things are seen and understood; can make the isolation complete, at least as far a communication, understanding or simply listening is concerned. I know that it is not always that grim; bridges are built, people talk all the time, and at times real understanding is reached, but I think this happens less often than is believed.
It is the heart that wants to be seen, understood and loved. We are emotional, intuitive beings, who seek to communicate on that level. Talking and striving to be rational are just ways or tools for the communication to happen, which is often a difficult job, and can be exhausting.
I suppose that is why people like to sit around and sip wine and talk. Slowly the wine if used properly, drops inhibitions and allows some level of honesty to come forward, and often people are able to listen, perceive the others viewpoint, speak their own, and both sides can feel listened to. Then the next day, after the walls go back up, life resumes as usual. The problem with the above is one good reason that it is best to drink only with good friends, such conversations cannot be planned, and can be harmful at times, and honesty is good with some people and not with others.
One day a friend asks me what I think heaven is. I thought about it and after a short time answered: I think heaven is place where complete communication happens, and people are really seen for who and what they are and loved because of that. Something far different from what is often experienced in this realm of projections and transferences; which often seem to have the last word, at least it often does with me.
Backed into a corner
06.21.06 (7:59 am) [edit] Working with the elderly has given me a certain perspective on life that others perhaps share, but don’t have it presented to them all the time like I do where I work. As we age we are at least for most of us, slowly but surely backed into a corner, were finally a place is reached, often feared by most, in which they have arrived at the point in their lives where they need to be taken care of. Once vibrant, strong and independent people are faced with the reality that their life of freedom, once taken for granted is now no more, and a new stage of life has dawn upon them. Some seem able to accept it, though I am sure there is an inner struggle that goes with that acceptance. Others fight it, some more and others less, but in the end of the battle the conclusion is arrived at, that the need to be cared for is accepted or at least tolerated. Right now one of the men I am taking care off is in the midst of going thru that process of adaptation and acceptance. For the most part he has accepted the being backed into a corner, but now that the corner has been reached, he is starting to buck a little and I have to hopefully help him to find some peace about it. He is overweight, partly due to the fact that for the last three years or so he has been able to do very little in the way of exercise; hence it takes very little for him to put on weight, which further hinders his ability to be active. What finally got him backed into ‘this’ corner, which may very well be ‘the’ corner, is something very simple really; he hit his big left toe with his cane, which has gotten worse over the course of a couple of weeks. Yesterday he could hardly walk, their was so much pain, so we moved him into the full care ward and put him to bed. I talked to him and let him know that the doctor wants him to stay in bed for a month, until his toe heals, and for the fist few days, because he may forget and try to get out of bed, which could lead to a fall, which because of his weight could cause a broken hip or worse, the bed rails will be kept up and he needs to call if he needs anything, or needs help to go to the bathroom. My worry is that because of his weight and the weakness of his legs, which will only increase because of bed rest; we may not be able to get him out of bed, and I will not allow those who work here to endanger their backs. Bed rest does cause atrophy of the muscles, so his being backed into a corner is becoming easier to see. This may make it impossible for him to regain his strength. We will work on bringing his weight down, though it will be a struggle. No matter what you do, something else comes up that can cause further problems, and that is what we are faced with Last night he became very angry with me since he used to doing certain things that he cannot now do. So we talked for awhile, and discussed how he is going to have to adapt to this new level of care, that hopefully in a month or sooner, when his toe heals, and he can walk without extreme pain, we can get in a therapist to hopefully build up his strength so he may be able to get back to walking again. This seemed to help, but I think more talks will be needed. I sometimes think that the experience of old age takes the most courage and faith to live thru. I am amazed at the grace in which most people seem able to navigate this time of life, and those who don’t are for the most part not responsible for their troubles. Some just can’t adapt, and care givers know not to take their anger and frustrations personally, if they did they would last about two weeks, if that long in the profession. |
The maze
06.20.06 (10:04 am) [edit] The maze Its corridors going nowhere In a circle with the exit there hidden Impossible to find Until stopping seems to be the only solution Frantic searching useless Leading further into the labyrinth. Like the mind with its endless turning The same thoughts Arguments or excuses Played over and over thru out a lifetime With no escape from it insistent whispering Separating from reality those caught in its web Victim hood a harsh task master Blaming everyone Refusing responsibility the only way out. The fruit being the labyrinth becomes a permanent home With the endless turning of the mind unstoppable |
The awakening
06.18.06 (7:23 pm) [edit] Emotions simmer, Sitting unobserved, Out of sight out of mind as the saying goes, Except things repressed Continue to boil, The pressure often below awareness, Until one sunny day One word, Or a look, Will bring the restraints crashing down, The magma rising to the surface, The explosion changing the landscape Destroying friendships, Marriages, Perhaps a life ended without warning, The one left not knowing what happened, Not understanding the cold rage that came to life, Its slumber over making up for lost time. She was so nice, so quiet everyone said, Who would have known what lay underneath, Perhaps never able to really trust another again, The knowledge that we are all dangeorus Our depths hiding from the mind What lies underneath Too much to absorb Illsusions ripped away by the tragedy, Naive innocence lost. |
In the face of eternity
06.18.06 (11:25 am) [edit] Absurdity at times seems to rule, The days pass in a rapidity unstoppable Death moving ever closer, The past growing ever longer, Then one day the future is short, Time once seeming to be abundant Shows it scarcity As the end comes into sight. Seeing the cliff that will propel over into darkness Eternal our exit from this life All our pains, Joys, Sorrows and fears Meaning nothing, Gone like vapor, Like the blossom of the rose gone in a few days. In the darkness and loneliness Buried deep, Often hidden from sight and feeling, Leaving emotions cold, A fire burns placed by the unknowable, Infinite and other, Drawing us in spite of our selves Towards union with its flame, The journey dark true But love is stronger than darkness and death Making them a mockery, Mercy showing them naked and helpless In the face of eternity. The dimness of faith only hides for a time The overwhelming light that is always present, Since it is the only thing truly real and eternal. |
First time offender
06.17.06 (1:04 pm) [edit]  Locked within a small cell the first time offender sat Longing to look out the window to high for him to view His punishment harsh but deserved Still There was hope for change when his time began The jungle he now lives in has other plans for him Beat down Abused and raped A gang the only way to be safe Bonded strong Loyalty deep A family adopted and loved All others enemies outside to be used or killed Whatever is convenient at the time Humanity slowly dying In the cement world he finds himself in Soon to be reborn into a new life A life of a hardened criminal loyal to his clan Until either in or out he gives his blood Spilled by knife or bullet it matters not Another life truncated with talents lost The true seed of life never blooming For others to sit in its benevolent shade |
God's will
06.16.06 (10:13 am) [edit]
| ||
| God is such a funny term, So generic and easy to use, It slips off the tongue smoothly Either in praise or in a curse, Easy to make trivial, To seek to box in By certain theologies or beliefs, Thinking that the mind of God can be known, Expressed shamefully By simple quotes, Thereby damming those who are different; Who see the eternal with different understandings. God's image is what we are made in, The eternal not in ours, Though in reality that is what is most worshipped, A deity yet finite, Making holy what is willed, Hence the cruelty and madness of religion In the hands of those who think they understand, When in fact they worship a deity tribal, Limited, Narrow, Used as a reason to live out the darkest fantasies Calling them God's will. The seeds of this madness reside in the human heart. In my heart this weed is sometimes felt Causing sadness that I am so far from living out what I know I must. Only those who know are aware of inner conflict, The rest assured that they are right in doing God’s will The flowing blood giving honor to Moloch the eater of children. |
Then they understand
06.15.06 (12:03 pm) [edit]
Treading is what people often do,
Just trying to keep the head above water,
Struggling to stay afloat
With no surcease in sight.
Often alone with no one to say a kind word
Or offer a helping hand.
They are all around us,
Passing our way on the street,
Our neighbors,
Even friends,
Yet often they are not seen
Since it is hidden away.
Their hearts heavy laden
With life’s burdens;
They are often experienced as a pest
To be avoided,
Since to truly see what is underneath
Would be too disturbing
So each is left alone,
Isolated,
Not knowing how to ask for help,
To let others in,
Until the day comes and fatigue overwhelms,
They sink beneath the waves.
All that is left is a slight ripple,
An absence quickly forgotten,
Perhaps relief that the disturbance is gone to bother no more,
Until the ones disturbed
Began to tread;
Then they understand and mourn.
The critic
06.14.06 (9:06 am) [edit]
| ||
 I think my harshest critic is myself, perhaps which is why I am not overly concerned about what others think of me. They could never be as hard on me as I am. I often get stuck in the same old rut over and over again. Perhaps that is why I am always writing about the wheel, and trying to simply either get off or to stop the cycle. In some areas I have done that, while in others I am still strapped to the outer rim going around and around helpless to get off. One reason is that I don’t want too on some level; perhaps I am afraid of what I will become or who I will be if some things are taken out of my life. I remember one day years ago talking to a friend of mine. Her name is Susan, and she was always venting with me about her family, her job, her friends etc. So one day I said that one reason for your being angry all the time is you fearing what it would be like for you to simply be at peace and not have all this drama in you life. I did not say it in a serious tone, but in a joking one. When I saw her next, much to my surprise she told me that my comment hit home and she has been thinking about it all week. She decided that I was right (at this point I did not want to tell her I was joking), and she was going to start working on her anger issues. She did and is much happier today, though not perfect of course. Perfect people are so uninteresting. So I am stuck with myself with some problems that seem to stick to me like glue, like being in a maze, or sitting in front of an impossibly high wall and just waiting for the chance to climb over to the other side towards more freedom. I think it makes me understand my dependence on God’s grace for certain areas in my life, and perhaps it is in my weakness that God reaches me, in areas that seem to have a life of there own, and were willpower is not enough. When there have been breakthroughs in my life it seems to happen from a point outside of my own struggles. At times I find myself on the other side of that high wall without having to climb at all, and I am always amazed by that and grateful.I simply need to continue on the road, not give up, and give in to despair, but continually have hope and trust in the love that God has for me. I have many strong points and gifts that I use well, and while I am thankful for them, they do not bring me to the realization of my need for God, and also for others in my life who are there when I am in need of support. It is my weakness and my sins that bring me to that point. I think St Paul is right when he says “ all things work out for the good for those you seek God ”. |
We are all teachers
06.13.06 (3:50 pm) [edit]
We pass each other every day,
Nodding and smiling
Then forgetting the face of the one just pasted.
Like a river people come into our lives,
Some part and flow around us
Others come ashore in one way or another.
Some to bring joy into our lives,
Others sorrow,
Still a few to bring great suffering,
Teaching us how to deal with anger;
Resentment with it unrelenting pain,
Grabbing by the neck and shaking without mercy
Until the lesson learned and the cycle broken.
Each leaves a mark in the others life,
Some for good,
Others for ill,
But each plays a part in choices made after the fact.
In the end we are all teachers,
The most difficult having the most to teach,
Making pain the medicine that wakes up the one suffering
Seeking a way off the ever turning wheel
That none can stop.
The only way off is in,
To the center were all motion ceases,
Where peace and clarity reign
Rooted in the eternal Presence
Ever faithful,
Waiting,
For the seed to take root and grow.
One thought
06.12.06 (10:59 am) [edit]
One thought,
It grows slowly at first,
Then it spreads,
Takes root;
Its tendrils encasing the soul
Allowing no rest from the inner chatter.
Thoughts become obsessive
Overly focused,
Until the act is done
And a life ruined.
A story often repeated
With no lesson learned
By those who hear
The sad tale so often played out
The dance
06.11.06 (3:10 pm) [edit] Joy and sorrow are partners in the dance of life A tango or perhaps a two step who knows, One leading and then the other In an interplay of happiness and loss Both needed for the other to exist at all. For joy alone becomes nothing, Flat, Like the ocean without waves, So calm that life lessens, The intensity gone with only boredom remaining. In this world both must be present For the pilgrims journey to continue, Over the mountain And thru the dark valley That each must tread alone. The wheel is always turning Nothing points to a stable state Only the constant changing of life around us With its challenges and tasks That none can escape. It is the center that is unmoving That place of pure light Often hidden and forgotten, Nonetheless it is our root, Our rock, Even if unknown. |
Something eventful
06.10.06 (5:42 pm) [edit] Carl Jung coined the word “synchronicity&rdqu o; to denote an experience that so coincides with a need that it seems to be somehow part an parcel of reality. Most people have these experiences, some so outlandish that those who have them are convinced that there is something greater than they are involved. There is one book out call “when God winks” to discuss this phenomenon. I suppose I have had my share, and I would like to relate one of these experiences that happened to me many years ago, and I would expect that the person who had this episode with me could say the same thing, that the event was significant, if not so important that it was life changing. It was in 1970, I was almost 21, and in the Navy, stationed at Whiting Field Naval Air Station, and I worked in personnel. I received my orders that I was being transferred to a CBU battalion that deployed down to Antarctica with an extended lay over in New Zealand. I was very excited about this and was looking forward to the trip; also it was going to be my last year in the Navy which was also something I was glad about. I did not dislike the Navy, but four years is enough, at least for me. I also decided it was a good time to go home and visit my family, most of whom were still at home; only Skip, Robert and I were away from home. There was an Air Force base not far from where I was stationed, and found out that they had regular flights to Panama, Canal Zone, and that I should have no trouble getting a lift down there, and since I was not rolling in money I decided to take that route home. All was going well for me, I arrived at the Air Force terminal, the flights were leaving on time; three flights a day left for Panama, and I felt that I should hopefully be able to get a flight home very soon. As I walked through the sea of Army green, with my white Navy uniform on I felt a little conspicuous, but no one seem to take notice. I went up to the counter and made my request, expecting an affirmative answer to in my inquiry about being able to get a flight home. The clerk looked at me with some sympathy and informed me that huge convoys of soldiers were being shipped down to Panama, going to Ft. Sherman for jungle survival training, and that there would be no vacancies for at least a week. So sadly I turned away and walked back into the sea of green. To say I felt bad was an understatement, but being a realist I soon come to the conclusion that I would not be able to get home, and was trying to think of some alternative. Just when I decided it would be best to go straight up to my next assignment I heard a voice behind me say, “hello sailor”, as I turned around I saw my brother Robert who was in the Air Force and it seemed was trying to get ‘somewhere’ the same way I was. I was so stunned that I did not really feel anything, I just stood there looking at him and he smiled and asked me what I was doing there. I explained my situation, not expecting anything, since I did not know where he was going. He smiled again and stated that he was going home also, and was glad to seem me. It seemed that he had a lot of money on him and was afraid to go to sleep, and he was very tired. So he said that he would be glad to pay my way home, which I readily accepted. As the shock wore off, my happiness in seeing him started to come to the surface and we happily started our journey home. We both wanted it to be a surprise, so no one at home knew we were coming. We got to the Miami airport, and decided to drop in to one of the bars there and get a drink. Robert was so tired that right after the waitress gave him his drink, that when he attempted to pick it up, he knocked it over instead. It was funny the way the waitress looked at him, but said nothing and just got him another one. After that he fell asleep in one of the waiting areas, after I promised that I would not sleep also. The trip home was uneventful, and when we got off the train at Gatun and took a cab home, the surprise that it caused was worth it. The visit was a good one, and I was able to hook up with a couple of friends who were still there. Now years later, this coincidence continues to amaze me, was it just a blind occurrence, well it may have been, but I doubt it. So Robert, thanks for being there brother ! |
DOCTOR 'DIED,' THE KEY QUESTION WAS SIMPLY 'WHAT DID YOU DO WITH YOUR LIFE?'
06.09.06 (12:12 pm) [edit]
Dr. George G. Ritchie, a psychiatrist who, as a young man at Camp Barkeley in Texas, "died" for nine minutes during a horrible bout of pneumonia and claimed to have been shown the afterlife by none other than Jesus. You discern. We wrote about him a while back and feel compelled to revisit aspects we could not focus upon back then, for the experience was powerful at many unexplored levels.
When he saw Jesus, wrote Dr. Ritchie, it was a far more masculine power than he expected, not the meek image so often presented to us through artwork and yet at the same time a Presence filled with "astonishing love."
"A love beyond my wildest imagining," wrote the psychiatrist.
It's that love -- often such an alien concept to masculinity -- that we want to focus upon.
"This love knew every unlovable thing about me -- the quarrels with my stepmother, my explosive temper, the sex thoughts I could never control, every mean, selfish thought and action since the day I was born -- and accepted and loved me just the same," recounted Dr. Ritchie.
"Every detail of twenty years of living was there to be looked at. The good, the bad, the high points, the run-of-the-mill. And with this all-inclusive view came a question. It was implicit in every scene and, like the scenes themselves, seemed to proceed from the living Light beside me: "What did you do with your life?"
That was the main thing Jesus wanted to know. That was the "bottom line" of accomplishments. How would we respond?
The question could also be phrased: what did you accomplish with the precious time you were allotted, those passing earthly moments, notes the psychiatrist -- who after his experience founded the Universal Youth Corps.
What was lasting in your life? What was important?
What was done with purity -- the purity of selfless love?
What have we done for God and the glory of Heaven instead of ourselves?
Those are questions, says Dr. Ritchie (in a dynamite little book called Return from Tomorrow), that are on God's Mind. It seemed to Dr. Ritchie, who ended up practicing medicine in Richmond, Virginia, that it was more a question about values, not facts. "What have you done with your life to show Me?"
For many, our accomplishments will be with children, friends, and family.
"He wasn't asking about accomplishments and awards," said Ritchie. "The question, like everything else that came from Him, had to do with love. How much have you loved with your life? Have you loved others as I am loving you? Totally? Unconditionally?"
He saw his life from infancy up -- the way he related to others, those he had spurned, hundreds, thousands of scenes, "all illuminated by that searing Light, in an existence where time seemed to have ceased.
"It would have taken weeks of ordinary time even to glance at so many events, and yet I had no sense of minutes passing," says the doctor.
There was the time he turned away as his stepmother leaned over to kiss him. There was the time he flew into a rage at a three-year-old who broke his model airplane. There were episodes from high school years -- dates, exams, running the fastest mile in his school, graduating into the University of Richmond.
And there was also that constant question: What did you do with your life?
As he reviewed his life with the Lord, said Dr. Ritchie, what he was shown was a wholly new perspective and "an endless, shortsighted, clamorous concern for myself." When he mentioned that he had been an Eagle Scout, for example -- trying to indicate a good deed -- the Lord dismissed this seemingly worthy achievement by saying, "That glorified you."
When they reviewed his religious practices, Ritchie was shown that those practices had turned routine with a smugness and self-esteem that made him think he was better than others because he never missed a Sunday, when he was not praying sincerely.
What else had he done with his life?
It got tough.
"I started to point out my pre-med courses, how I was going to be a doctor and help people," recalled Dr. Ritchie. But visible alongside the classroom scenes were the material rewards he looked forward to as a result of his profession -- "that Cadillac car and that private airplane, thoughts as observable as actions in that all-pervading light."
It was not good enough. Christ saw everything -- from every perspective.
In a way, said the psychiatrist, it was like arriving at a final exam and discovering that he was going to be tested on a subject he had not studied.
How was he to know, he cried in his mind? How could he have prepared?
"I told you by the life I lived," came back the words from Jesus. "I told you by the death I died. And if you keep your eyes on Me, you will see more..."
The love that came from Jesus was like nothing Ritchie could describe. Others say the same. The Lord was not judgmental but rather displaying the Truth of the Light.
We will all enter that Light, and we will all see our lives in review. We will all feel the incredible kindness of Jesus yet also His strength. "Far more even than power, what emanated from this Presence was unconditional love," said Dr. Ritchie, to repeat.
It was a selfless love. It was a pure love that we are to emulate. It was putting God above everything and everyone and as the goal of every action. This is the key to Heaven!
This is what elevates us.
This is how we all "levitate."
And what we seek to rise toward is the Being of Jesus -- Who, as Dr. Ritchie found, is different than we think in the way of goodness, in the way of selflessness, and certainly in the way of what love brings: power.
"This was the most totally male Being I had ever met," noted Dr. Ritchie in his splendid little memoir. "If this was the Son of God, then His Name was Jesus. But... this was not the Jesus of my Sunday school books.
"That Jesus was gentle, kind, understanding -- and probably a little bit of a weakling. This Person was power itself, older than time and yet more modern than anyone I had ever met."
[resources: Return from Tomorrow
Philips Life review
06.08.06 (4:05 pm) [edit] | ||
| He lies peacefully in his bed Now his permanent home Where he rules all he surveys Often entertaining many who drop by With smiles and laughter Pointing and non-stop talking happy with the attention From the many he knew in years long passed Many come and he welcomes them Though no one else can see. Nonetheless the attention that he favors them with Is real Patiently listening to what they have to say Reliving past episodes, That brings forth tears of joy and sorrow Going over and reviewing his life. A good life it seems since he is often at peace with his living memories One day he laughs and cries at the same time Pondering something done to him Uncomprehending of the meaning Or the why of it all. I held his hand Then embraced him until it passed, Once over It was brought up no more. A quiet man gentle to a fault His voice always soft even when angry Which soon passes replaced by his smile. Again open to whomever I represent An image from his long colorful past. One day he introduced me to many of his friends I responded with my hello With only silence my greeting returned Nonetheless honored that he would think me worthy To be known by his friends present only to his inner sight. Most of the time he is at peace Smiling as if he has a secret that no one else knows. Present to a reality hidden from those like me Since it is not yet my time To enter the world of reviewing my life With the living images from my past. |
A walk by the sea
06.07.06 (8:51 am) [edit]
The bright sun on the white sand and rocks
Reflected a strong glare causing the eyes to water,
The blue sky empty of clouds opened up to infinity,
The cool breeze with the sweet smell of the salty water
Allowing calm to descend were just a moment ago was missing.
The sound of the waves pounding the beach,
So soothing its crashing upon the sand
Its rhythm allowing the mind to rest in peace deeper than sleep,
A refreshing break from simply existing apart,
Drawing into the oneness of nature and it endless cycle
Of repetition without boredom
The soft sound of birds calling,
Sea gulls with their dance above the waves,
White wings spread expansively
Gliding without effort over the waters,
Seeking the silver gleam below the surface
That gives strength for the dance to continue.
The levy with its large rocks,
Causing the waves to seek to dissolve,
Spaying those lucky enough to be there
With the cool mist from the sea,
Refreshing to the skin
Lessening the sting from the hot white sun.
A place were speech is unnecessary
All that is needed is a listening heart
With eyes that see,
Filled with wonder at the beauty of it all.
The price paid
06.06.06 (3:20 pm) [edit]
Loss is a silent companion,
Its cold embrace,
Empty of all that was before
Fits like a black vest,
Tightly zipped,
Forced up to the throat
Blocking breath,
Clinging in its need to feed.
With no where to go or hide
Since it is in the heart,
The center of life
That the void is felt.
Unrelenting in its lovemaking,
That leads only further down the road of loneliness,
Where all fears are felt to be true,
In a place that is shorn of all color or vibrancy.
To dare love is to invite this intimate other into ones life.
A price is to be paid for love,
Be it for a mate,
Friend,
Family;
A bill well worth the price.
Since without love all of life would be a cold artic wasteland,
Inhabited by those dead but who do not yet know it.
The wound heals
Slowly over time,
Without it how can wholeness occur?
There is only stagnation for those who allow fear to rule them.
Fear of pain,
Exacts a higher price than love does,
It is just felt in smaller doses
Over an empty and bleak life
That seems to go on forever no matter how short it really is.
It is better to seek and not find,
Than not to have sought at all.
The seeking without despair no matter what the pain,
Enlivens the soul as it makes it journey towards its destiny,
Where what we seek waits.
Perfection
06.05.06 (10:35 am) [edit] The frog sat without movement Blinking in the mist laden air, Surrounded by fog and padded silence; Its color a bright green With eyes large and dark Lending a serene beauty As it patiently waited for whatever it needed Food or a mate I did not know As it sat unmindful of its perfection, Or the effect it had on me. |
Remembering
06.02.06 (6:38 pm) [edit]
Had lunch with Leo this Wednesday, and decided to try a new place for lunch. Probably did it more for me than for him, since I am not sure he remembers our trips, at least in a detailed manner. He always responds positively to the new images that he gets from his surroundings, and also likes the music that is played over the speaker system. That day they were playing R & B tunes which he seems to enjoy very much. As usual I had to show him how to use his straw for the tea, but he caught on fast and did alright. As usual I ordered food that he could eat with his hands, and put the silver ware aside except for a fork. Too many utensils confuse him, at least they do when I take him to a new place. After we ordered our food he tried to talk to me. One thing that came thru very strongly was his frustration about not being able to say what he wants to. His stuttering over words, or saying words that he does not mean, is a great source of pain for him.