Rational thought,
Linear, clear, beautiful,
Drowns in hatred,
Snuffed out as if it never was,
Gagged and bound,
Leading to chaos,
Cyclic in its progress,
Leading nowhere,
The eternal return,
Until only silence remains,
Since thought is no more,
Nothingness the winner.
The nature of evil
08.31.06 (8:28 am) [edit] The nature of Evil Hunger deep the void bottomless Seeking to devour all that comes before it, Calculating yet mindless, Cunning without true intelligence, It prowls seeking warmth From the essence of others, Itself empty of all existence Running from it nothingness Living off the life of others, Till only ruin remains A shell used up and discarded. Evil needs good in order to exist, Feeding yet never filled Seeking life from pain It hollowness eternal; Hence the unending hunger The grinding of teeth In the fiery yet artic darkness Hunting that which cannot be captured Held Or owned. |
The gift and burden
08.30.06 (9:08 am) [edit]When alone and by ourselves,
We all become children,
Playing each in our own way,
No one watching
We do what we want,
Naked before God
With our thoughts,
Desires,
Fears and wants.
This is the gift and burden of solitude.
Swirls of grey
08.29.06 (8:35 am) [edit] |
|
The invitation
08.28.06 (11:34 am) [edit]Alone in darkness,
No one near,
Moans of pain unheard
In a seemingly callous world.
The old woman gasped,
Struggling for life,
It is sweet
In spite of the crosses endured.
Pain severe,
Does no one care
That a life is ending in such agony
With no hand to hold?
Her terror climbs as the dark draws near,
Body numb from the rising cold,
Lips blue,
Breathing a struggle.
Suddenly a change,
A peace not hoped for
Seeping
Into the mind of the dying one.
Slowly the presence came,
With it the warmth,
An invitation given,
Accepting the woman died, yet not alone.
The image shattered
08.27.06 (10:10 am) [edit]| Â Â |
  The entity lay coiled, Shivering, Fetal like Upon the cold smooth surface, Colder than any worldly ice,                          Blacker than as pitch, Its frozen depth bottomless, Cold burning like fire For any enduring it touch.  Slowly, The creature black as the ice, Lifted it head Seeking to find surcease From the burdening silence Suffocating like a blanket That surrounded it. It tried to scream, But silence devoured the agony wailed. It stood, Surrounded by a grey fog, Thick, Unyielding, Stinging needle like, Touching skin Raw from the burning ice, No healing possible, Nor mercy shown in this realm It slowly painfully started to walk, Dragging itself through the darkness, The swirling fog, An endless journey leading nowhere, For there was only nothingness, Only its own company to keep, Filled with the lifeless void Something worse than inner pain, Empty yet aware. Hunger drew it, Seeking, Hunting without hope, Sustenance raged for, Anything to feed, Fill, The inner void, Cold, Cavernous. In life it sought out others Feasting on their pain, Happy in the ruin it wrought, The innocent its delight, Goodness consumed To feed the inner darkness, It prowled through life Reveling in it destruction Of those filled with light. Now it hunts With no prey to find It screams out its rage, Hatred, Its longing unfulfilled. Alone, Lost, In a world Of its own creation. Nothing else it can do, It feeds upon itself, Hunger feeding hunger, Nothingness seeking sustenance, That only love can fill, Rejected long ago For other foods That fed only darkness Nor starving in its hate filled isolation. The image the entity made in, Rejected, Scorned, Hated, When finally gone left to itself, Only fragments left of what once was, All of humanity gone, Shattered by the act of self creation Wishing for no other destiny. Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven, The entities kingdom vast, Built on the cold icy burning lake, Endless, Vast beyond measure, Its rule supreme Contested by none, It subjects Rage, hunger, eternal cold, upon the icy lake of fire. |
A place of home
08.26.06 (10:06 am) [edit]We are hurled through space at great speed,
In a Universe ever expanding,
Racing towards nothing,
The void already surrounds us,
Embracing,
Cold and lifeless beyond our small sphere.
Upon our home we are like microbes
So small are we,
Yet our lives have meaning and depth.
We live,
Love,
Suffer and die,
Though in the scheme of things it is nothing at all.
Yet we think,
Are self-aware and seek,
Knowing of the void,
Our coming deaths,
Asking why,
How?
We long not just for life,
It is the ‘more’ that we seek,
A place of home,
Peace,
Belonging,
Denied us on our pilgrimage.
We are all on paths dark.
The only light within,
Leading some to faith,
Others to despair,
Some to acceptance of the absurdity
That life seems to entail.
Faith in things unseen,
Nor felt,
Possible to some closed to others,
Some bitter towards those different,
Unique in how each denigrates,
The fruit of the need for feeling superior.
No matter the belief,
Nor hopes, or lack of.
Life is lived and the road taken,
Choices made,
Joys and sorrows felt,
Until one by one we walk through the dark door.
That is what pilgrims do.
Seeking freedom
08.25.06 (3:25 pm) [edit]Seeking to become free of the fear of what others think, takes time; perhaps a lifetime of discipline and effort to reach the goal desired. Best to do what one wants, than to not do it out of fear of others thoughts. People will think what they will, nothing to be done about it.
It can be very difficult to do this; I am of course speaking from experience. It is the little things that are important, doing what is right, instead of what others think should be done. Little by little, this freedom grows, and joy and freedom are possible. The fruit of this kind of practice is that compassion and acceptance of others grow.
Taking care of self is important, no one else will. If someone takes advantage of me, it is my fault, I allow it by not speaking up and letting others see me in a new light; this is an injustice to those who have to deal with me. Unless there is a place to stand from, others will not know how to treat me. Not taking responsibility for ones life, is to become an unwitting victim of others, who do not want that power.
To speak ones mind respectfully, may cause others discomfort at times, or even anger, but in the end respect is gained, and one is seen in a new way, and treated accordingly. Expressing oneself raises the interaction with others from the unconscious to the conscious mind, causing growth and change, and not an endless cycle of misunderstandings, based on the lack of ability to clearly say what is wanted or needed.
If one lacks the courage to do this, then a life of frustration is lived. Freedom has to be gained one step at a time, one choice at a time, taking a chance, one situation at a time. To not do the above, is to become a prisoner of ones own making. To reject this, leads to greater and greater difficulty in communication, since it is not based on truth, but on fear, and perhaps only saying, or doing, what one thinks others want. It is often called passive/aggressive behavior, and shame is often the root of it.
The journey
08.24.06 (10:19 am) [edit]The journey we are on,
The road long
Sometimes weary,
Is one necessary,
Hard,
At times lonley,
In the end however good.
The path solid when young
Yet as the years go by,
With greater frequency
The path opens up
Taking those we love one by one,
Until one day
We have more ghosts than living to accompany us.
Haunted by memories;
Gentle ones,
Pleasant,
Painful,
A touch, or a laugh,
Seared into our memory,
Giving birth to sorrow,
Laughter,
Even tears of happiness or rage.
So we continue in hope,
Or despair,
The choice is ours.
To continue to the end
Is an act of courage so common
Made by so many,
That it value is not understood,
Nor the faith necessary
Even if unstated for such an act.
Hungry Ghost
08.23.06 (8:06 am) [edit]It does not matter what you want,
Desire,
Or seek.
Things change,
Desires die,
What we seek, when found, often means nothing.
Beautiful bodies do not bring joy,
Money often leads to ruin,
Greed and lust easily destroy what is desired.
To capture the desired,
Once owned,
Is no longer wanted.
Seek, won, discard,
Endless the search in vain
For peace
We seek and are made for the infinite,
It cannot be captured or owned,
Hence it is ever new in its mystery.
Until the secret learned,
Hungry Ghost we are,
Wandering in the desert.
Endured
08.22.06 (8:57 am) [edit]Letting go and letting God,
Often said,
Counseled,
Often said,
Counseled,
Seldom however followed.
Holding tightly to oneself,
To what is known firmly till death;
Afraid to let go
Fearful of what will follow.
Walls strong and high,
A prison of ones own making,
Safe,
Though barbed wired enclosed.
Who would I be?
Or what would I become,
If the wire was cut
And the walls came down?
Is freedom so frightening,
So dangerous,
That the hell known
Preferred to being free?
Torn between here and there,
Upon the cross stretched,
The pain remains unremitting
Until resurrection.
Looking upon Christ on the cross,
It is my own soul I see,
The pain of the world
Endured by infinite love.The gift offered
08.21.06 (8:20 am) [edit]
Joy unfolds in waves of ecstasy,
Ever mounting eternal it its expansion,
Lifting up into the pulsating light,
Filling the soul with overwhelming peace,
Never satiated,
Nor wanting.
The soul’s expressing,
Giving,
Receiving,
Infinite in its ability
To absorb
The gift offered.
Forever emptying itself,
Yet always filled.
The dance,
The whirling,
In perfect sync
With the One who leads
Eternity in a moment
One with the light,
With all life,
Experiencing simply
The union
That all are made for.
Something beyond comprehension,
Beyond thought,
If not actual experience
Even if only for a moment,
All eternity contained therein
Each one with all in the All.
Enflolding the struggle
08.20.06 (9:16 am) [edit]Humanity is a precious thing,
Bound by instinct true;
Also present is so much more,
Leading to something high,
Noble,
Life enriching,
Or the low road leading to chaos,
Madness,
Destruction sought like a man in delirium.
The man who makes love,
Can also rape,
The arms that cradle a child in tenderness,
Also can turn to abuse,
Love can turn to hate,
Nurture at times lead to murder,
Such is our walk,
The struggle we face
The war between good and evil, within.
The saint fails more than one would think,
The knowledge of what is within a burden,
Heavy to bear the knowledge of ignorance,
Or perhaps it is sin.
The greatest saint,
Or one buried in sin, and ignorance,
In reality are not so far apart,
This knowledge perhaps the key,
In ones ability to understand and love.
Enfolding this struggle,
Its failures and victories,
Hidden deep within the human heart,
Is tenderness,
Understanding infinite,
Seeing the struggle from inside
In the depths unfathomable,
Where seeds hidden germinate,
Sapping the soul of its strength.
None are worthy of mercy,
It flows as a gift
Offered to those most in need,
Beating in silence upon the walls of each heart,
Seeking only healing,
An end to the wandering in deserts,
Dry,
Lost,
Driven by what is within.
We are brothers and sisters in our struggle
So judgment in its most common form,
Useless,
Based on ignorance of what lies underneath,
Hidden from many,
Waiting its time,
When its dark presence awakens from it slumber,
Overturning the false images
Of a fragile ego.
Letter by letter, word by word
08.19.06 (8:58 am) [edit]Writing allows the soul to speak,
Bringing to consciousness,
Letter by letter, word by word,
What lies beneath,
The joy unspoken,
Rage feared,
Wisdom unknown,
That would remain hidden forever,
Without this divine gift.
Birds sing,
People write,
Both giving glory
To the true artist Eternal,
Lavish in giving gifts.
The collective
08.18.06 (7:59 am) [edit]
Racial memory runs deep
Branded into the psyche,
A festering wound of the collective soul
With rage often its only outlet,
Though it may hide,
Sleep,
Or be forgotten for a time.
The monad swallowed up
Sinking into the chaotic,
The desire to destroy and kill
Shattering any pretense of humanity,
Personal freedom chained
By the rising of that irrationality
Deeply buried in the unconscious of its people.
Good and evil reversed
With God’s voice or word
Used as the fuel,
The energy,
To devour the soul of the enemy
Outside of God’s love,
Or caring.
Hatred is collective,
To love ones enemy
Or to forgive another
An act of the individual,
Open to God’s grace,
Love,
And healing.
Satiation never achieved
08.17.06 (12:10 pm) [edit]Mankind lies in a bed racked with fever,
Temperature rising out of control,
Twisting and turning,
Lasing out at those trying to help,
To bring some cooling ointment,
Some relief.
Mankind’s soul racked with pain,
The desire for blood and revenge
An addiction sweet,
Easy to partake of such a sumptuous feast,
So many to hurt, rape, and kill,
The hunger bottomless,
Its thirst without end,
The god of war’s stomach
Ever empty seeking relief never found
In the quest for the destruction of others
Basking
08.16.06 (8:33 am) [edit]Basking in the sun,
Head thrown back,
One leg stretched out to catch the rays,
At peace
Yet vigilent
The turtle sat,
No thought to shatter its peace,
Regal in its quiet beauty
Sitting with no movement
Inches above the water,
The perfect zen moment.
Love
08.14.06 (12:17 pm) [edit]We all seek it,
Thirst for a touch,
Or just a look,
Like a man in desert
Seeking water.
Hard-Liners
08.13.06 (9:10 am) [edit]I have had over the years, trouble with Christian hard liner's, in the way that they not only use scriptures, but how they actually treat others in using the Bible in attacking others. I have always found this interesting, since attacking only raises up defenses, and in the end, nothing is accomplished. I suppose the main problem with this approach is that certain scriptures are gathered together, lined up, loaded, and then used as an arsenal to blast others.
Christians aren't the only ones who do this of course. Some Muslims use the Koran in this way, and in the past I have seen some Hindus do the same thing. Followers of certain philosophical schools of thought will also follow this route. I have encountered at times followers of Ayn Rand, who will quote from either her Novels, or her philosophical works, as if they were scriptures, and then, surprised when their quote had no real effect on me.
The most common fault of believers of any kind is their misuse of their holy books in trying to reach others. Some believers seem uncomfortable with the thought that perhaps others have come up with different answers to life's questions. Or perhaps that they were born into a different religion, hence they will have a different understanding of the meaning of life, and its purpose. I suppose one of mankind's greatest faults, is the thought that whatever I happen to believe at this moment, is somehow true for everyone.
I have known people who changed their religion, or philosophical stance, like other people do their clothes, and each change is presented as the truth, forgetting how often this has happened in the past; not understanding why others will not take them serious or listen to them.
Just because I am a Christian, does not make it necessary for me to condemn others who follow another religious path. How it is possible, to think that we can know the mystery of God's interaction with the world, by lifting simple quotes from scriptures, is something that I have never been able to understand. A bible bashing Christian, in my opinion is no different than a Koran bashing Muslim. I am not taking about all fundamentalist here, but about fanatics, who actually feel that they are speaking for God. Bashers tend to make God into just another human person, just bigger, meaner, narrower and more condemning. Sort of a big me on a bad day; believe me not a pretty sight. I shudder to think how awful it would be if God were just a bigger version of whom we are. We are made in God's image, not the other way around.
If the God of our understanding is the only true God, then I feel we are all in trouble. No matter how elevated our understanding of God is, that understanding is limited. Most people as they grow older find their understanding of God broadening, which happens because they grow, and mature, not because God in any way changes. We can only understand God through the lenses of our own maturity and understanding, just as we can only know others in the same manner. The more immature the person is the more black and white they can be in judging others. So it is understandable that their understanding of God would be a projection; in other words, they are worshipping themselves. I suppose the old saying: The more we know, the more we understand how much we don't, does not apply to people who do this kind of thing. Since I suppose the opposite is also true: "The less we know, the more we think we do". A little understanding is a dangerous thing if thought to be the whole. I suppose, on our faith walk, we are hopefully finding the courage to discard limiting ideas of God, who is beyond all ideas and form. Our ideas of God only become an idol when they are clung to after they are no longer useful. The revelation of God's love is reduced, to belonging to an exclusive country club, with only few members allowed.
In the epistle of Timothy it says God wills the salvation of all men, and that they should come to the truth. If that is true, why is it believers of all strips want to spend so much time trying to prove that in reality the opposite is true? It is an enigma to me. For many it is a numbers game. I am saved; you, you, and oh yes you, are not unless you conform to my own comfortable idea of who God is. I remember in the Navy the first time I was given a pamphlet from Chicks publishers. I could not believe how ignorant it was, and how anyone could believe the nonsense it was purporting to be the truth.
My faith in Christ is absolute, but for me Christ is God, and God, is in the end the ultimate mystery. A mystery is something eternally knowable, but not something simply known, boxed in, and understood by some scripture quotes that are interrupted on a subjective level. Many believers complain about the Pope and his infallibility, but the same Christians will constantly make infallible statements, and condemn anyone who disagrees with them, and their understanding of the scriptures. In fact they take infallibility to and all together different level than any Pope would dare do. Making sure that only those who agree with them will enter the gates of heaven. Such a childish understanding of God is amazing to me, and for the most part I don't even try to communicate with people like that. I suppose because I am Catholic they would not try to talk to me anyway. Well they would if they only wanted to attack. I am just too tired to respond, why bother. By the way, Catholics also have people like this in the flock.
Only God is the judge. Mercy and justice are one; humans separate them; perhaps that is the problem. God does not only see the heart, he sees the depths, and nothing is hid from the infinite loving gaze. This should be a comfort for us all, we have nothing to hide from God, it is impossible, and therefore cringing fear is uncalled for. As John says: Love cast out fear. The human race is loved by God and mercy is there for all, it is the human element that wants to limit it, wanting it extended only as far as their understanding goes, or mine for that matter.
Swimming in the void
08.12.06 (5:35 pm) [edit]Some days are filled with emptiness,
Swimming in a void,
Dark,
Neither hot, nor cold, or lukewarm,
Just no-thing-ness,
Going through motions
With nothing underneath,
Like a soul trapped in the nether world.
Floating in the chill of lightlessness,
Just being there,
Feeling neither dead nor alive
Then ever so slowly,
Its pace cannot be hastened,
Life returns,
Again the void recedes,
Joy breaks through;
Such is the wheel of life.
Wisdoms learns this lesson
So hope never dies.
Much like the yearly seasons,
The turnings
Of our inner lives.
The passing of Edmund
08.11.06 (10:34 am) [edit]I sat down beside his bed,
His small warm hand held gently,
Praying with my beads
The mercy chaplet for a happy death,
A prayer for all who are dying.
Such a gentle quiet man in life,
His smile welcoming for all,
Love apparent for whoever was before him,
So humble his life,
So peaceful his approaching death.
His quiet labored breathing stops,
Body at rest
I close his eyes,
Turn him on his back
To prepare him for what comes after.
Body cleaned
Hands placed over his chest
Eyes closed
I now wait with him
For those who will take him away.
A life well lived
08.10.06 (12:26 pm) [edit]No longer restless,
Seeking for things to do,
His mind seems to be at peace,
Amidst a sleep deep,
Held gently in it soothing embrace,
The body relaxed without movement,
Waiting for the call home.
A life well lived
Filled with love, laughter, and friends,
Prayer aplenty,
Good works the fruit of a loving heart,
Will soon cease,
His lonely exit entering,
Into the waiting arms of his beloved.
Unbidden
08.09.06 (7:56 am) [edit]Unbidden it comes,
Often unexpected in its appearance,
Softly it comes upon its prey,
Who is interested only in what is before it,
Swiftly it embraces from behind
Filling its victim with its gift,
Given when least expected,
Happiness;
The fruit of an open loving heart.
clinging
08.08.06 (4:20 pm) [edit]The days like sand flow between the hands,
Nothing stops the flow,
Leaving helpless those who fear,
Clinging to youth at all cost,
Consuming ones life,
Fed by fear,
Leaving it difficult to simply enjoy what is.
Endings
08.08.06 (8:30 am) [edit]Over the last few years, Edmund has led us to believe that he would soon be leaving this world, and proved us wrong. Now however he has entered a phase that I think points that this time his leave is soon in coming. His Alzheimer’s has over the years of course been worsening, and now he is in its late stages, though he can still communicate with us some. He will respond to my calling him by name, and when I pray with him he also is attentive. He still loves it when I pray the Psalms with him. He loves psalms 23-25, 138, 151, which he answers to a resounding AMEN (!), when I finish each one. After each psalm I say a doxology to the Holy Trinity.
About three years ago he started to have some tumor growth on the back of his neck, just left of his spine, and also another tumor in the throat area. Both were situated in such a way that they did not interfere with his movement, or swallowing. I took him to Dr Carter, a specialist, in taking care of those who suffer from cancer. It turned out that he had Lymphoma, but the doctor did not think it would lead to his death, because of his advanced age. He was 89 at the time of the diagnosis. He prescribed Prednisone, a mild dose to help with the tumors. Which worked so well, that the tumors disappeared totally; much to the Doctors surprise and those of his staff.
Then Edmund started to have a growth on the top of his head, near the back, on the right side. Its growth was rapid, and I made an appointment with the local specialist on skin cancer, a doctor that we often use for skin problems. After looking at the cancer, and noting Edmund Alzheimer’s, he communicated with me his doubts on how to go about removing the tumor. Edmund would not understand what was going on and the healing process could be a problem with him. It would be a large section of skin around the tumor that would have to be removed, and if he picked at it, could lead to further complications. Restraining him was out of the question, it would only make things worse. So he decided to just scope out the tumor, that way the incision would be smaller, and hopefully cause less trouble. So an appointment was made in a week. Two days before the procedure, it was decided that he was two weak and confused to have the operation, and so we cancelled it. We were in a Catch 22 situation, no matter which way we went, it would be trouble for Edmund.
We finally had a doctor come out and scrape the tumor down to the skin. It was done with no discomfort to Edmund, but the tumor came back with a vengeance, and to top it off it developed a bad MRSA infection. We are not sure how he contacted it, but there is community based MRSA, and he could have contracted it from just about anyone who visited him. We use certain procedures when with him now, gloves at all times, and mask, also a very through washing of hands with a special soap that will kill the MRSA, and stop it from spreading. The tumor is large, and bleeds, and we try to keep it covered, but Edmund often tears off the covering. So we sometimes cover his pillow with a towel and change it often. Also his clothing, and bed linens, is washed separately from the others who are living there.
At this time we think the cancer has spread, but he is too weak to have x-rays done, and since he is in his 90’s, and very weak, our main concern is to keep him comfortable. We have started him on pain medication every six hours, and this seems to help. One problem is that we fear that he won’t be able to communicate discomfort with us. For instance he loves his room cold, he can sleep better that way. However when cold he can’t tell us, so we read body language, and cover him according to that. It seems to work. Also with pain; when restless, we take that has his having discomfort, and the pain medication, which is not strong, takes care of that. We won’t use a patch, since he is so little, it may be overkill, literally. However we are thinking of getting his pain medicine in liquid form, and a paste for Ativan, to help with anxiety.
It often takes two people to clean him, and when on call, I am brought in sometimes to help with this. Last night he took off his head bandage, and I was called in because of that. There was a lot of drainage on his pillow, but decided not to re-cover it. So we just changed his pillow case, and put a towel there, to be checked every hour, and changed when needed. He is often in a fetal position, so it is difficult to clean and change him. He can be requested to stretch out his legs, comply, and then very soon afterward forget, and again retract his legs. Fixing up his bed can also be difficult, so I was holding him while Kim was arranging his bed linens, trying to keep the wrinkles down. He was cradled in my arms, clinging to me for fear of falling, almost like an enfant. I was deeply touched by his vulnerability, and assured him that he would not dropped. It must be difficult for him, almost blind, with very little short term memory, not know who, or what we are doing to help him. Luckily he still remembers my voice, so that helps.
He is not eating much at all, mostly shakes, and drinking very little water or other liquids. He is loosing weight rapidly, and renal failure seems imminent, so this time the end is very near. He is peaceful for the most part, and still smiles easily, though he most likely does not know who any of us are anymore. He stills has that smile that everyone loves, and laughs easily, and still responds to prayers and music.
Below is something I have written about him that was requested of me that will be put in a newsletterI can remember the first time I saw Edmund. He was a little man, slight build, skinny of course, and very quiet. I remember how diligently I had to listen in order to hear what he had to say; he always spoke in a near whisper. There always seemed to be a calm that surrounded him, a silence that flowed from within, that always touched me. His smile often reminded me of the Mona Lisa, enigmatic, never really knowing what he was smiling about. He either knew something I did not know; not very difficult in my case, or he just got away with something, well probably not. I could never imagine Edmund ever doing anything wrong.
He was a minimalist in his approach to just about everything. Less is good; clutter bad, everything neat, and in its place. When he cooked, his cooking showed that trait. All of his meals were simple in the extreme, but each and every one of them was a work of art, at least as far as I was concerned. One of my favorite meals of his was also one of his simplest. He would put carrots, potatoes, and onions, on a large flat pan, and brown them in the oven. A meal that I never tired of, no matter how often he prepared it, when he cooked for us on special occasions, which was about four time a year.
He was a natural artist; everything he did had a certain touch to it that literally left me amazed at times. I suppose he just knew how to place items, just so, that created a balance between them, one shape played off against another….. that was very beautiful, and even restful to look at. He could do something as simple as having a leaf, a stone, and a stick, from one of our trees on a table, but the placement in my eyes was perfect. I don’t think anyone else that I know had that kind of effect on me.
He also had a very dry sense of humor that would often leave people laughing when he did tell jokes, or share a humorous story. His timing was perfect.
His love of music has not diminished one iota. He came from a musical family, and he played the Violin when he was younger. He now likes to listen to music most of the time, perhaps reliving past memories that brought joy to him when he was young. He loves classical, but his favorite is Jazz, with Billie Holiday at the top of his list. He can often be heard singing “summertime” at all hours of the day or night.
At this time he is weakening. He is eating less, losing weight, but he is still the gentle Edmund that I have come to know and love. When he is restless, all I have to do is to start praying the Our Father, or the Hail Mary, or read a psalm to him, and he quiets down very quickly. It seems that the love music and prayer or not diminished with his kind of Alzheimer’s. In fact I don’t think any of the Alzheimer’s patients have lost touch with these two very important areas of life, which I have taken care of.
Bitter fruit
08.07.06 (8:27 am) [edit]Sirens wail,
Children scream,
People run for cover,
Looking fearfully into the sky,
Naked before death,
That rains from the heavens.
Hearts that love, also hate,
Kind people turned into killers,
Love of family, and country,
Belief in ones faith,
Leads to hatred of those outside the circle.
For the aggressors
No one is innocent in time of war,
The key to ending of killing, and hatred,
Is the knowledge,
Hard to accept,
That when looking into the enemies eyes,
It is ones own reflection that is seen.
The seeds of love, and hatred,
Each with their own garden,
The other considered a weed
That needs to be rooted out;
They cannot co-exist in the same ground,
Only one can flourish
Hatred is the strongest,
Easier to cultivate,
Nurture and let grow,
Though bitter fruit its harvest
It nourishes the heart,
Strengthens for battle.
So the wheel turns.
A larger box
08.06.06 (9:35 am) [edit]Jorge (not his real name) came to see me yesterday, a friend that I have known since around 1990. He is Cuban, and from a well to do family, who have ventures in land, farming, and rental properties. Jorge is a very intelligent man, highly educated, and I presume that he is also good in handling the family business that he helps out in, though his father is still able to run it himself. Jorge has a full plate when it comes to some of the issues that he is dealing with in his life. He has a serious addiction, and also suffers from a bi-polar disorder that seems prevalent in his family. At this time he is taking some time off to get some help in his quest to find balance, and healing, in his life. This process seems to bring with it a need to simply talk things over with his friends, so there are a group of us that he calls on a regular basis to do this. It is pretty much the same thing that he talks about, but over the years I have seen improvement in his life, so I guess it is working for him. Jorge asked me out to lunch and I accepted, since I much prefer face to face communication, than long conversations over the phone. We went to a local Mexican Restaurant, which is a local favorite, and decided to sit out on the porch area. It is a pleasant place to be, shaded, with overhead fans, and the best of all, the tables are far enough apart that you can feel like talking without being overheard. The only time I like to drink a non-dry red wine is when I drink Sangria; wine mixed with fruit juice. Don’t know why I like it, since sweet wine does nothing for me, at least when I have it with a meal. Most like it simply goes well with the Mexican food. So we each order a glass, with a side order of lemon water, and after ordering he started talking to me. The conversation that we had; or let’s say the information he shared with me, was very different from the usual fare that I was used to from him. Perhaps simply getting older; he is now 48, is one of the reasons that he was able to talk to me on this level. I don’t know, but for me it was very interesting interaction. From my own experience of myself and other men, it is very hard if not impossible for many to admit fears, or the simple experience of being vulnerable. He shared with me many of his fears, and how hard it is for him to work against them on a daily basis, and how his developing faith in God is helping him to deal with them. At first I did not know what was going on. I was used to his pattern of talking about his struggles, his failures and successes, and was probably listening, but with no expectation of anything new. Well it only took a few minutes to realize that something truly different was going on here. He really bared his soul, probably in ways that I have not yet done, or perhaps have yet learned to do. We did have a good conversation, and my respect for him deepened, and in the process I began to look upon him in a different light. His expressing to me the depth of his faith was truly humbling, and made me aware of my own arrogance in how I looked at him just a few moments ago. Every time a friend of long standing does this to me, it always flips my world upside down. For a time afterward, I can’t quite see anyone the same again. I often talk about how easy it is to box people in, and I came to the conclusion that Jorge just climbed out of the box I had him imprisoned in. So when we left lunch I saw him in a different light, than before we started our meal. Of course he has not really changed, he just opened up to me more, and my perception has deepened and grown. Perhaps he has only moved into a bigger box that I now have him in, but hopefully I will be open in the future for him to reveal more of himself to me. To think I could have missed this, if I had stayed in the mode of only half listening to my friend, since on some unconscious level I had him figured out, placed in a nice neat package that fits on the shelf, where I most likely keep all the other people in my life. I guess boxes are not so bad. We do need to define one another in order to be able to relate and communicate…&helli p; Some way in which the mystery of who we really are is handled in such a manner that we can simply get on with our lives. After all my friends, Jorge included, probably have me in a box also, each different depending on their experience of who I am. Boxes only become an issue when the lid is placed on the top, and latched. When that happens communications goes out the window and the relationship dies, even if it seems alive on the surface. Some boxes are petty, others no so much, and from time to time, perhaps even ugly. A pretty box, with a nice bow on the top, can be just as tightly wrapped as one with electrical tape wrapped around its whole circumference. I suppose at times people can be reduced to a pattern; become ‘that’, a living archetype, or perhaps, a stereotype is a better term. Certain qualities do not define a person, what they show at any give moment, is simply how they are relating to any one individual during an exchange. The inner depth, with it richness is often missed by the observer, and at times by the one being observed. Sad to say, some people believe in the labels that others place on them, and live up them, or perhaps down. We all want to be seen, and perhaps react when we feel boxed in, but the only way out I guess is to be open, and honest with ones friends; which is taking a chance. Some don’t want a newer, broader version of their friends; or for that matter their enemies. Small is better, safer, and more or less pleasant. When something new is stated, either pleasant or not, the one hearing has to move a lot of inner furniture around to accommodate the new data. Some can’t do it, so friendships die but were they worth it in the first place? I don’t think we are so different, but at the same time each is unique, and it can be life enhancing to simply listen, and allow ones world to expand just a tad. Granted there are troubled people out in the world, many of them. Even then our perceptions, and judgments, often cause pain and frustration for the one giving, and the one receiving. Those who are lucky enough to not have personality disorders are the ones who need to adapt, if for nothing else for their own sakes. |
Then there were none
08.05.06 (8:26 am) [edit]As I was watching CNN yesterday, feeling hopeless about the escalating situation between Hezbollah, and Israel; an image was suddenly thrown onto the screen, an image violent in its portrayal of a tragedy not yet hours old. It showed 20 men, perhaps a few more or less, the exact number I don’t remember; dead, lined up on the side of the road. They were of all ages; young to some who seemed old enough to be Grand-fathers. The horror of the image came from the silent presence of all these bodies, looking like they were simply sleeping.
From the newscast, they were simply laborers, unloading a truck load of produce, probably worrying about their families and their safety, or perhaps just joking among themselves, when suddenly “it” came from the sky; and then there were none. I can’t imagine how many other people are affected by this tragedy, hundreds I would think. People stunned, filled with pain and rage over the injustice of it all. The mindless violence that is taking out people from both sides, who do not want the war, but only the right to live out their lives in peace. Without the interference of those who only want war and destruction.
It is one big hostage situation. In which the populations of both countries are being held, and in which I fear many more will die before this is over. I would wager that those 20 killed, for the most part were not political at all. They just wanted to live out their lives in peace, perhaps some or most did not hate anyone, and perhaps many of them had a Jewish friend, who knows. The press would like me to believe that ‘the Palestinian people’ all want Israel destroyed. I have a hard time believing that, many no doubt do hate, but I think the majority just want to live in peace.
Our essential unity, very real, cannot be destroyed by hatred or war; it only deepens the wounds of an already deeply wounded species, piling higher and higher the pain of the world. Jesus wept for good reason, and perhaps continues to weep to this day. We do nail each other to the cross, just as men did to Jesus. Sebastian Moore said that when looking at the crucified, we behold our own souls, nailed, helpless, and dying, victimized by our sins, against others, and ourselves. It is only mercy both received and offered that will save us in the end. Mercy is grace, freely given. Until this is learned then I am afraid we will never get off the wheel we are all tied too. CNN and Fox news only make this reality more real, and immediate, to those who watch this ongoing saga, that if not stopped will only lead to the destruction of that whole area, and perhaps further abroad. Such is our irrationality and yes sin.
The weariness of it all
08.04.06 (7:56 am) [edit]Mankind is weary of war.
The weak, and lowly,
Those who have no one to protect them,
Women, Children, the old, without a shield,
Waiting for ‘it’ to happen,
A bullet,
A sudden explosion,
Ripping apart lives and bodies without mercy,
Young men and women in their prime,
Full of life and vigor,
Strong and brave,
Those who take up arms,
Each thinking their cause is right,
Committing acts unheard in times of peace,
Tortured, and torturer, dancing in perfect sync,
They face each other on the field until only one remains
These are the sacrificial offerings offered to the god of war,
By a race giving it sustenance
Caught in the web
Feeding the ‘thing’ that sets waiting in the center,
To catch it victims in its intricate weave,
No mercy shown,
Only empty husk remain
Of what was once alive and vibrant
The wheel continues to turn.
A rant from a political imbecile
08.03.06 (7:49 am) [edit]My mother had a great love reading. She had the habit of often reading through the night; more often than not, from the bible, or perhaps some other book that she found interesting. There were always plenty of books around, and I soon got into the habit of reading myself. My mother read broadly, I guess she was a free thinker of a sort, somewhat liberal in her religious views, and I guess they have rubbed off on me. Many people seem to get more conservative as they get older, but both my mother, and father, seemed to have gotten more open in how they looked at things, as they aged. I guess my dad was a liberal democrat; at least he seemed to be from our discussions on politics. My dad was not a reader like mom, but I guess you could call him a news hound. He also liked the shows in which different reporters and politicians discussed current events. I guess I enjoyed the shows too, but they seem to reduce everything to just a personal opinion. Each participant hedged in by their own political ideology. So if you watch the show enough, it was easy to know, more or less, pretty much what each member of the panel would say. I have found extremist on both sides boring. While those who tended to be more in the middle seemed more open to other points that were presented, and therefore a little more interesting. However these were in the minority. I suppose to be a talk show host, or a political writer, a certain kind of narrowness is needed, without it depth would be lost. After all conviction is needed, if a point wants to be gotten across.
I really don’t know where I fit on the political spectrum, though I feel more comfortable with the thought process of conservatives, they do seem more rational. On the other hand, my Christian faith makes me sympathetic with many of the things that the left seems to be fighting for. At the same time I am very cynical of all politicians, who seem to be more interested in votes, or in the power base of their own party, than in what is best for their people. I guess many do start out with the right idea, but the temptations are too great to pass up. Too much money changes hands, to many favors owed to those who got them in, in the first place. Of course cynicism makes for simplistic conclusions; of which the above is one of them. It is based more on my emotions than rational reasoning. There has to be some honest politicians out there some where; right?
So perhaps I am a liberal, without a home in any one political arena. I would think many Christians would find themselves in that position. So I vote independent, and perhaps many other Christians do also, when they cast their vote. I sometimes vote democrat, at other times republican, perhaps that is the norm now days. I have a hard time believing that there are died in the wool Reds, or Blues out there, but perhaps I am being a tad naïve about this.
Talk show host are an exception, though for me they are just a source of entertainment when I am driving. Some of the conservative talk show host can be very hard line, which causes me too often to disagree with what they are saying. Some of the things they spout off are actually frightening, and could be very bad if someone with a black and white world view tied into everything that they said. Perhaps those who listen to talk radio aren’t like that; perhaps they are a little more sophisticated than those who don’t. Perhaps talk show host knowing they are simply entertainers, playing a role, spout off the party line, and then when the show is over, put that persona into the closet until next time.
In any case, it is the fanatics in both parties who make the most noise, they are like huge squeaking wheels who demand to be listened to, and in the end are. Moderate views are too boring, or in the case of Rush Limbaugh, moderates are mocked as fence sitters. Perhaps he is right, but I don’t think so. Perhaps some see more grey areas than others.
That is why I am lousy at politics; I see too many grey areas, which is probably not that good of a position to be in when in power.
I am glad however that we are supporting Israel, though their record is often as bad as the Palestinians; who they are defending themselves from. I believe that if Israel were alone in their struggle for survival; there would have been by now, some sort of nuclear device used in self defense. As a People they are backed up against the wall, and I feel they are right in not trusting anyone outside their own race.
Even the United States during the Second World War did nothing to help the Jews, even though intelligence was available about the holocaust, long before the American public was aware of it. We even turned back a ship full of Jews back to Germany, even though those in power knew what was going to happen to them. They were all killed. Men, women, and children; so the United States, does have blood on its hands.
I have sympathy for the Palestinians, but the Jews are there to stay, and the sooner that is understood, the sooner peace will hopefully fall on that war torn part of the world. I have a hard time believing that ‘all’ Palestinians want the Jews wiped out; surely the majority are not so bloodthirsty, just as many Jews want peace also.
The Muslims are getting a lot of bad publicity now days, with quotes from the Koran backing up what is said. However the Old Testament also has statements like that. Just read the book of Kings, or Exodus. I believe that anyone who truly loves God becomes more compassionate, and loving. The Koran, states that Allah is compassionate; hence it would follow that Muslims who truly love Allah, which means God, would also take on that quality.
Of course I am taking from my armchair, and have no experience of the terror that the population from both sides, has to endure each and every day. The stress must be unbearable, and the desire to strike back understandable. To tell the truth, I don’t know how I would react, but I am reasonably sure I would defend myself, my family, and friends. Also being human I would probably want revenge on those who are a threat to my life, and the lives of those I love.
So it seems that we are at an impasse. Peace has to come from the grass roots, not from those in power. It is hard to forgive, alien even, but it is the only way to stop the cycle of violence. Perhaps as a species we will never learn that lesson, or perhaps we don’t want to. I am not sure I could walk my pious talk if I were in different circumstances. Talk is cheap, pious talk the cheapest. I do know what is in my heart, and much of it is not beautiful. The state of the world today is a mirror image of my own inner life. Conflict, failure, despair (at times), but also love, hope, and peace, often hidden from the eyes of others, who can only see me from the outside……. the depths of the heart or easy to hide. If I am not a peace, why should I be surprised at what is going on in the world. Our wars, problems in our societies, and families, which are often the nesting place of many of our troubles, are extensions of our inner lives made manifest.
Love is an easy word to use. In fact it is used so much that it is pretty useless. As a Christian, I truly believe, that it is only grace that frees us from this prison, which we as a species seem to be locked into. We do not need to be saved from God, but from ourselves, hence the need of grace, always present, since within each heart God dwells.
Well this did ramble a bit, too many twist and turns, but hey it is a rant by a political imbecile.
Love of books
08.02.06 (10:41 am) [edit]I have always had a love affair with books
The knowledge within their covers,
Or worlds created,
Lives lived,
Decisions made,
Lessons learned, or not.
Each a world unto themselves,
The authors like a god of sorts,
Creating out of simple love of the art.
I haunt book stores
Looking,
Seeking,
For the Book,
A mirror of my inner state,
Seeking more knowledge,
Wisdom,
Knowing they all point
To the one seeking us all.
Mercy
08.01.06 (7:41 am) [edit]Mercy
I often wonder why it is so easy to write about pain, sorrow, struggle, and strife. I know that there is much of the above in the world, and I would suppose most of us, if perhaps not all, are often part of this drama, that makes up the pain of the world. Its weight is heavy, burdensome, to the point were death is longed for by those who get the brunt of its crushing power. No one is free from this; even the so called rich, the carefree, have an inner burden that they also must carry, it is just hidden.
We take joy, and happiness, for granted when it is experienced. It almost seems our natural state, something we are made for. While suffering seems an intrusion, something foreign, a state we seek to escape; though it is not possible. Run from one form of suffering, and often the fruits we receive are double, or triple the pain, that must be endured. Addictions come to mind. We use them to find relief, but in the end, they only weigh those addicts down, even more deeply into pain, and the chaos, that often flows from this sort of thing. I am speaking from experience. Addictions don’t have to be the big ones; small addictions can also do a great deal of damage.
It seems to me, that most of the pain in the world is either self inflicted, or inflicted on others, by another human being. The sufferings from war are many; all one has to do is to turn on CNN, or Fox news, to get a front row seat on this drama that never seems to end. As a species, we seem to be in the grip of some irrational force that propels us towards chaos, pain, and war. Even in our private lives, this process is often at work, despite our best efforts to escape it.
In my own soul I experience this. Hence, the conflicts that I often find myself in when seeking to live according to the dictates of my conscience, and the inner struggle it seems to generate. The love/hate conflict seems to be the crux of the problem, though I guess this is simplistic; the will to power also comes to mind. People often get sentimental when speaking of love, gushing on about the love of neighbor, peace, and the like. However in reality most of the world’s religions do not tell us to “treat others as we would like to be treated”, or as Jesus said “to love your neighbor as yourself”, because it is easy, or a natural thing to do. Sometimes, I think gritting ones teeth helps in the very real struggle to love others, or perhaps counting to 10, or a 100 that is often needed in my case. It is a choice, love. True some loves are based on need, and instinct. We love our friends, but the love spoken of by Jesus, and also by the prophets of other religions, is based on a clear headed choice, or perhaps in the end, a habit, strengthened by grace. No matter it is often a struggle. It is easy to hate, to scapegoat, to condemn; it is a well worn path. All one has to do is get in, sit down, and allow this archetypical pattern to run its course. Sort of like being on a roller-coaster, except in the end it crashes, instead of stopping, to let the riders off.
The scale, with the pain of the world piled high, stands in the middle of a field. We each go up to it, and we either add to the weight, or lessen it, or perhaps many of us do a bit of both. It is so easy to hate, to scapegoat, to kill, rape, and maim. It is like a flood of emotions, which rushes up from the depths, seeking someone to take all of this pain out on. Someone, other, less than human; from another race, religion, tribe, sex, or perhaps simply from another political party; it does not matter. This of course does not work, and so the grinding of teeth continues, the pain increases, until death comes to release us one by one.
Christians call this ‘sin’, something real that can drive us mad. Until we find some solution that will stop this cycle of chaos, and pain, which the world seems caught up in; with no way to exit. Our main struggle is within, if not dealt with then it is brought out and fought in the world, others becoming the target, or again the scapegoat. Governments are good at this, the enemy without must be dealt with, and the ensuing destruction is the others fault. I suppose this is a role we all play, each playing our role, no matter how seemingly minor. Sometimes were the fly, and at others the windshield; as the saying goes.
It is mercy that heals this wound. First received, and then in gratefulness, shared with others. Mercy is not mercy if it is deserved; no, mercy is something offered to those who do not deserve it. It is offered in love to all, hence the Christian hope for the salvation of all men. To say I understand this is false, for God’s actions in the world are a deep and abiding mystery. I get confused by life just like most others, but my faith does give some light, in this journey we call life.
Yes life is a rough road, and we all travel it together. It is only on the personnel level that things can change. By the time it matures to the level of national conflict, I don’t think much can be done until the energy is fought out, or dissipated, the dead are buried, the orphans taken care of, cities rebuilt, and at least if the lesson is not learned, life can resume for awhile, till next time. The problem is that we get better at killing, our weapons more sophisticated, and our propaganda believed. In any case this will not stop until we learn as a species, and I feel that grace is needed for this to happen. I know the limitations of my heart. From my own experiences it is only when I allow myself to be channel of God’s love, do I just begin to do better. The emphasis is on the “just begin”. I have never moved much beyond that.
Sin is whatever destroys or lessens us. It is what enslaves us with the myriad addictions that mankind is subject to. I think the doctrine “Original Sin” makes a lot of sense. It is simply what we inherit from those who have gone before, a cycle of war, and pain, that we cannot seem to quit ourselves of. If you want to know what hell is like, well just read the papers. A world in which no responsibility is taken, but blame is sought in others, and then human retribution follows. An endless hellish cycle of tit for tat, that will never end, unless we grow in understanding of what really drives us, compels us to stay on this wheel of pain that seems to circle eternally, with mankind nailed to its spokes.
Yet I am hopeful.