I am grateful
04.30.07 (8:20 am) [edit]
Glen a very good friend,
A doctor,
Heart specialist,
A loving and caring man,
To a fault,
As many caregivers are.
The gift and the compulsion that comes with it,
An uneasy dance,
In constant play,
Working for and against him
In his desire to care for others.
He is from New Orleans,
So he often talks about Katrina,
His experience in the hospital there
Trapped with many others,
Generators no longer working,
Patients dying from lack of equipment for their care,
The cold dampness,
Hallways darkened,
Stairwells slippery and dangerous,
Patients trapped nowhere to go.
Families there also with children,
A few days like a lifetime.
Also the aftermath,
A prolonging of the pain and suffering.
Doctors leaving,
Few if any coming in.
Work load increasing
Perhaps burning out,
Concern for his health
The constant stress;
Phone going off at all hours,
Never enough sleep.
Such is the life of a heart specialist.
Knowing he is needed,
Leaving not really an option at this time,
Though perhaps it is coming that awful choice,
To go,
Perhaps to save his own life
Being worn down by it all.
Yet it is his life,
“I was born to be a healer”
His refrain that I often hear,
A heart young in a body getting older,
He would care for the whole world if he could,
But he can’t,
One day he will have to stop,
Perhaps sooner than he wants.
I am honored to have him as a friend,
A gift unexpected,
Friendship happens,
It can’t be planned or manipulated into happening
It just takes root and grows,
Suddenly friendship is there.
I am grateful.
Known only by the one
04.28.07 (8:22 am) [edit]
Known only by the One
The days fly by,
Merging,
As if one,
Distinctions fading.
Our thoughts and experiences mostly hidden,
Deeply buried in the seemingly bottomless ocean of the unconscious.
A jumble it seems at times;
Our loves,
Hates,
Worries sorrows and joys,
Seen often for what they are
A wave rising up and then once again sinking
As if it never was,
Yet it effects long lasting.
Roots hidden though sleeping still live.
Our dreams,
Hopes,
Obsessions,
Phobias,
Flow from this deep rich inner abyss,
Grace and the demonic
Warring for the right to rule.
One by love and healing leading to life,
The other by seeking to imprison
Those snared by false promises.
Leading only downward,
Drowning.
One or the other,
The Eternal the only judge,
Who has our true name known only by the One.
The round eternal
04.26.07 (6:44 pm) [edit] |  |
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Peaceful,
The flowing water soothes,
Gentle music played on the rounded rocks,
Lazily fish swim dining a la carte,
Resting and swimming at times fighting,
Mating,
The round eternal,
The balance kept by the quiet life and death struggle
Below the calm surface,
Hidden,
That will never cease.
Not getting better
04.25.07 (8:00 am) [edit] |
Well, I finally got the Power of Attorney paper work for Aldo finished, got the witnesses I needed, and a notary to put his seal on it. Always good to have things like that in order, so that Aldo will get the kind of care he wants, in case he can't speak for himself. The doctor and social at the hospital were so happy to know that he had an extended family of some kind, that they started to work with us even before the paper work was finished. Besides they had Aldo's verbal ok. Younger doctors seem to be better listeners than older ones, at least for the most part. There are exceptions in both groups, but his doctor really listens and takes time to explain things to Aldo, though she is truthful, but with a soft lining so to speak.
Aldo did not seem to be getting better when I saw him yesterday. His right hand was just about useless, and his left was weaker than it was a couple of days before, so I don't know what that really means. The doctor told me that therapy may help him, that she has been surprised in the past, by the progress that some of her stroke patients have made, but she is not overly optimistic.
Aldo wanted me to make sure his rent was paid in his apartment for the May, but I had to tell him that the Nursing home will need the check, to help pay for expenses for his care. As we talked I had to be honest. We talked about a time line, and I said that he will not be better within a month, that even if he could eventually move back in his place, it would be several months at least. I of course did not tell him that I did not think this would happen, he is already depressed enough. He has been on a plateau for so long that this sudden change is very difficult for him. I know he is very anxious about losing his apartment, that this plunge into helplessness may be permanent.
Pattie and I are trying to get him place in a facility near where we live, then he will get plenty of visitors, like I said his extended family is a good size. He is such a gentle soul, and well loved, so having visitors on a regular basis will be a big help to him.
People complain about nursing homes, the care, etc. There is truth to that of course. Many are understaffed, so the CNA's are often overworked, and of course underpaid. You always have those near burnout, and some are just plain lazy, so having visitors on a regular basis, insures better care. Though I think most workers in nursing homes are loving and caring people, with perhaps simply too much too do. Well we will see how it goes after we get him settled in his new home.
The calling
04.23.07 (8:09 am) [edit] |
The calling
When the heart swells when music’s caress arouses,
When the sight of beauty makes one catch their breath,
When the vision of a child opens up ones heart to be loved,
When compassion arises to help a stranger,
When friends truly laugh,
When lovers truly love,
When oneness is experienced with the world,
Even if only for an instant,
We are made for such things,
For it is worship that we experience,
Living water found in the depths of a dry desert.
Beauty grabs us in guises often unexpected,
Calling our hearts to expand,
Yes it is the joy of worship,
That which is eternal, that encompasses all beauty and love,
All else transformed by its gently accepting power.
Boundaries healed,
The truth revealed about who we are,
How we are loved,
Our response is the utter joy of abandonment,
Worship.
This is a ramble
04.22.07 (9:08 am) [edit] | |
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This is a ramble
Quite a few years ago, I can remember reading an article, which cost about 1.5 million dollars for the study, stating that adolescents was the most difficult time of life. I laughed when reading this and thought, what is new about that, what a waste of money. I think most people when looking back on their teen age years would agree, though, those years have many happy events also. Children, becoming adults, sometimes both present at the same time, hence the extremes that many pre-twenties are prone too. I can only say that my life got better after I grew up, and I personally was glad that my childhood and adolescents was over. Not that I had a bad childhood, I suppose it was better than most, it was just, well, being that young that I did not like.
I have a theory, based on some evidence; at least it is for me since I was the one that experienced it. The theory is that children are more than meets the eye. Of course when looking back, I can use the language of an adult to describe what it was like, or what I went through, let’s say, before I was seven years of age. I don’t think this is too crazy, but I have always felt old in my soul. It was like a part of me observed what was going on, peaceful, on some level knowing, though I can’t even to this day articulate just what it was that I knew. I just observed and then the other part that experienced feared, laughed and cried, you know the things that little ones do. I doubt that this experience is unusual, perhaps it is because I seem to have a very long memory that I even know that this happened.
The knowledge was not verbal, perhaps it was more on an intuitive level; you know sort of a seeing of the whole picture, without being able to express it in a rational manner. Children often show a level of compassion that most adults cannot muster, why is that? Perhaps it is because the necessary boundaries, that are built up as maturity slowly arrives, are simply not there yet. Boundaries are needed, if we did not have them I think we would all drown in the pain and chaos that often surrounds us. There are times when we need to be numb, so as to be able to deal with what needs to be done in our own lives.
Gifted people, who never lose this, are for the most part handicapped in some way; people with Down’s syndrome come to mind. They are often very open, loving, compassionate, and I find that they are healers in their own way, perhaps necessary, but the world would not run if everyone was like that. No we need boundaries, we need to protect ourselves, and then as we age to slowly learn to let them down, to again grow in compassion, empathy and love, to become childlike. A strong ego is needed to do this, also the ability to think clearly and to act on what is perceived as needed to be done. I think the first time a very young child gets hurt, or betrayed by another, is probably one of the greatest events in life, for it is then that the truth is learned that others can turn. This does lead to trust, becoming something that has to be earned, it is not a gift. Again this is a necessary event, we all get bumped around, some worse than others. Perhaps those who really get knocked around are in reality the strong ones. I don’t think life is a crap shoot, I think there is meaning to what we go through, even if for the life of me I don’t always see it. Perhaps in the end we are all children, some just further along than others. I often wonder if this life is just another womb that we must outgrow, and then move on to something larger, bigger, better, and yes perhaps with greater challenges. If we continue after death, I think our joy is the continuing journey, not some eternal rest for eternity.
I suppose, slowly moving into old age is sort of the reverse of adolescents. From becoming a strong, independent, intelligent adult, to moving into a area that slowly leads one to becoming dependent, weak, and for many less intelligent; must be crucifying to say the least. Aldo is there now. I am going to see him today, and hopefully be able to talk him into going into a nursing home for a period of time, so that he can get physical therapy. He wants to go back to his apartment, he has lived there for many years, and though his world is small, it is his world. It is a paradox I guess. If he refuses to go to a nursing home for a short time, and wants to stay independent and go home to his apartment, this could lead, because of his present situation to an accident that could put him in a nursing home for good. So I will try to bring that to his attention. He has also been diagnosed with diabetes and has been put on insulin, which also complicates things.
So I will talk, hopefully convince him, and if not, well I will have to let it go. Not something easy to do since I do care for him, but he has not yet reached that point where someone will have to move in and make choices for him. Battles have to be chosen wisely, and this is one battle that I am not willing to fight since nothing good will come out of it.
Aldo is only 13 years older than me. I know that when I am 71 I will probably still be healthy, at least from my family history it seems that might be the case, yet who knows. Aldo has had serous health problems for years, so he is really older than his actual age, yet being with him makes me wonder how I will handle my own last years, when the time comes for me.
There are so many in my generation, that at least for now (who knows what I will think when the actual time comes), have decided that after 70 I will not take any kind of extraordinary care if I should down with a terminal illness. When I go to the VA, I see how the system is over loaded, and it will only get worse as the years go by, and the baby boomers become the aged ones. Don’t get me wrong, I would not mind living to 90, which is only 33 years away; life is good, sweet, filled with good things. Even on the worst of days I can always find something to find joy in. I don’t see why that would change as I get far into old age. I just don’t think that I want lot of money spent on me that could be put to better use elsewhere.
I wish our culture would stop glorifying being young, and embrace the journey that we are all on. Difficult, well yes it is. However I really would not want to do it all over again, once is enough. Being a baby, young child, adolescent, middle age, and finally one day being old is enough, just once. We are pilgrims; nothing can stop that, no matter what your faith or lack of. Life is hard and then you die, sounds harsh, but is it?
Aldo
04.21.07 (8:25 am) [edit] |
I was working on the computer, when Pattie came up to me and ask me if I heard about Aldo. I said no, what happened. It seems that Aldo was having trouble getting out of bed, he could not walk. So Pattie and Michael called the front office where he lived. They checked in on him, and called 911. They took him to Crawford Long Hospital. A hospital affiliated with Emory, a very good place to go if you are sick. Pattie went on to say that Aldo told her that I was his Power of Attorney for medical care, something that was new to me.
I first met Also in the early 70's, when he was in his middle 30's, he is now 71. He has no family, so a few people around here, sort of adopted him into their circle. So he does have an extended family of sorts, who help to take care of some of his needs. I suppose one of the things that have always stood out for me about Aldo, is his work ethic. He always worked if he could, and if he couldn't, he still tried. He as far as I can see, never took advantage of others, and was always very thankful when help was offered to him. Michael, Pattie, Elizabeth and Judy, and Ann, are some of the people, who always showed love, concern and patience toward him, and helped him whenever they could.
Pattie gave me the number of the hospital and I was lucky enough to get hold of Aldo's doctor there. She was happy to get someone on the line that knew Aldo and was open with me about his condition. I told her about my being his possible POA, but was not sure, since Aldo is not always clear about things. I told her that I was going to drive in that afternoon after I finished some errands that needed to be done. She said that when I arrived to let the nurse know, since she may want to talk to me.
I arrived at the hospital at about 2 PM, and was soon in his room. He was not there, so I figured that he was out for some test. The nurse on duty said that he was getting an MRI and did not know how long it would take. So I hunkered down and waited. After about an hour they wheeled him in, and after they got him in bed, we talked. Just as I thought he really did not have any paper work, living will, who was his POA etc. So I communicated to him how important it was for him to have that done. It did not matter who his POA was, he just needed one in case something happened where he could not speak for himself. After calling Pattie and Michael, they stated that either one of them would be his POA if he wanted them to.
Aldo, as stated earlier could not walk, and then after further discussion he notified me that he was having trouble feeding himself. When pressed if he told the Nurse on duty, he said no. He said that he could not quite reach his mouth, so it took a great deal of effort to eat, and that it was getting worse. I asked him to do something for me. Could he touch his mouth with his hand? He tried, but seemed to stop short just before his chin. We then tried to see if he could touch his nose, and then his forehead, he could not. He knew their position but could not get his hands to find them. I notified the Tech on duty and she assured me that they would feed him.
We then talked about what he wanted done if he should have a situation that was life threatening; a stroke or heart attack, if he wanted to be revived if he should find himself in that position. We talked about that, and in the middle of this conversation his eyes welled up, he cried a bit, and said in a whisper "I am so tired". I went over and took his hand, and said that he was not alone, that he had friends, who would do whatever it took so that his wishes would be carried out. As we continued, I wanted to know if he desired to be DNR, and he said yes. Before I left I wanted that to be taken care of, but the doctor never came by, it was late, and I needed to get back home. I called Pattie and Michael and they both stated that they were coming in on Saturday to see Aldo. So they are going too asked for the Chaplain, who could help with the living will and power of attorney formalities.
Aldo has had a very hard life. I won't go into it, but as far as I am concerned he is a quality human being, who deserved a lot better than what life shelled out to him. Because of his goodness, generosity, and also because he himself is capable of true friendship, he has always for as long as I have known him, been surrounded by people who care and look out for him, as much as they can. It did not take away from his loneliness much of the time, but I personally consider it an honor to know him; he is a courageous soul. People like Aldo can be overlooked, but when with him I sense a great deal of goodness, love, and a man of deep and abiding faith, who has walked the road, fought the fight, and perhaps now is ready to go home, if God sees fit to call him.
So the argument goes
04.19.07 (7:16 pm) [edit] 
So the argument goes
Answers are wanted at all cost,
Knowledge of what we are about sought with ardent desire,
Seeking to get to the bottom of life’s mystery,
A journey long,
Impossible to complete,
Yet the path humans are all on.
Like a giant puzzle is our existence and each has a piece,
Mistaking that one part for the whole, a common mistake.
Causing strife were perhaps there is none.
Our senses the walls that keep us enclosed,
Allowing us to see only so far,
Perhaps in the end we will come to that enclosure
Keeping us from the infinite,
The knowing,
The ultimate understanding.
Perhaps we are already there we just don’t perceive it.
God exist,
No God does not,
So the argument goes;
A compulsive round going nowhere.
The most strident alike on both sides,
Like two sides of a coin
Insistent on their understanding of reality.
The desire to just know is strong,
Something denied all,
For some more frustrating than others,
Some feel the need to see stronger,
Others less,
Yet all are part of the question
As well as the answer.
Perhaps we are all wrong,
The answer greater than we can even hope for,
Or mayhap only nothing awaits us,
Though this I doubt.
Infinite love,
If the revelation be true,
The desire of the heart if it is on course,
Hoping against hope,
Perhaps this is what should draw us together,
Grasping each others hands seeking the mystery,
The search for truth our common desire.
Just so much time
04.18.07 (7:41 pm) [edit] 
Just so much time
I wonder what life would be like, if that fact that death, which could and does happen at any time, be taken out of the picture. If human life was not short, if we had an unlimited amount of years to live out our hopes and dreams; what if that were true? To me the question is like thinking about winning the lottery. I for one would not want to. To suddenly have all the money I need, or could ever spend, does not sound very promising. With all that money I could never ever look forward to anything, since on a whim I could do whatever I wanted, go where I wanted……buy a jet plane and fly to Hawaii, stay at the best places, etc. Money I did not earn, in unlimited supply, does not sound live giving at all.
Death defines us. We have just so much time, and then it is over, no second chances, one life, and one exit. This adds urgency to life, perhaps not always felt, but on some level it is there. Screaming at some, whispering to others, some barely hear it. Yet it is there. When looking into a mirror it is shown to us every day. The soul seems to stay young, yet the jarring image in the mirror does not correspond. Tick tock, tick tock, so the clock goes, seconds go by and soon become years, decades, until it happens. For some, quick, unexpected, something I personally do not want. Other die more slowly, knowing what is coming, this is what I want. Unlimited time would most likely flatten everything, since the future would stretch out into the far, far, future. Urgency would be gone, it would be like having too much money, nothing to strive for, work for, and anticipate.
I have been with many people who have died. In my line of work it is always the old, the tired, those who perhaps are prepared, waiting for the call. When with them, in their final days and hours, I sense a time of just hanging over, or simply being suspended in a very large void, waiting, being changed, the waiting painful, sort of like waiting for a plane that is slow in coming, the waiting has it own kind of suffering. I sit with them; ponder how they view their lives. Did it seem like a dream, or was it something long and drawn out. In any case most deaths that I have witnessed are peaceful, there are only a very few exceptions, and even those the struggle did not last long.
So life is beautiful, important, filled with color. Vibrant, because of the knowledge, hidden or not, that we have a very short time in which to do what we need to do, before the final curtain call and we step through the dark door. Death is terrible, horrible; it takes away our loved ones. In the end it will take me away also, for the dead also lose out on those that they love. It is a two edged sword; so life should be embraced, lived, with the knowledge that we are truly like the flowers of the field. Young for a short time, we age, grow hopefully, become loving human beings, and when death comes we leave something behind that is beautiful.
What happens after death? Well I have my faith, yet it is still a mystery. I can’t believe that we live for just a few years and simply cease. Our lives or a miracle, so an afterlife is not so hard to accept, or at least hope for, and as a Christian I put my hope in Christ; which does not take away from the search, it just gives me a direction to move toward.
Upheld
04.17.07 (6:08 pm) [edit] | |
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Upheld
The path we are on must be trod,
Glass strewn along the way stepped upon,
The thorns that hem us in,
Their prick must be felt,
Wounds that bleed dealt with.
Fountains of living water we must bathe in,
When the Sun of love comes our way it should be absorbed,
Suffering, joy, pain, pleasure,
All a part of our long difficult journey,
Our pilgrimage towards we know not what.
Hope must be cultivated,
It roots allowed to take hold,
Encouraging us along when things are dark,
When the light seems to be gone from our hearts.
Faith, to perceive the divine when hidden,
Love, when emotions and feelings seem dead.
We choose,
Something that can’t be escaped,
We are not victims though at times it seems so.
While loved infinitely,
Upheld,
Each has to walk his or her own way of the cross,
Sweating blood,
In each their Garden of Gethsemane.
Life is like that even if not wanted.
Courage is one of God’s greatest gifts to us,
So common often overlooked, not adverted too,
By those who each day choose life over death.
For when weighed down by misery,
The knowledge of sin and evil within,
By the pain and suffering in the world,
Yet,
Most continue until the end.
Souls both lacerated by pain and loss and failure,
Also upheld and healed by love beyond comprehension,
Step by step move toward their goal.
It is all part of the journey,
So never give up.
Life is soon over anyway,
Like a dream it will seem when we pass through the dark gate,
Hopefully into the arms of a creator faithful and true.
Mercy offered,
Easily accepted.
Mercy given,
Something harder,
Is the great truth;
For all or in need of its healing balm.
God mercy towards us,
Our mercy towards others,
Flow from the healing we receive and must pass on.
One body,
One heart,
What we do to others we do to ourselves,
Christ is one with the Father and Spirit,
We are one with Christ,
Boundaries gone,
In Christ there is no male or female,
Greek or Jew,
Black or white,
Brown nor yellow,
One we are,
The truth not yet accepted
Nor experienced by many,
So,
Let your light shine,
It shines when mercy is shown.
They sat
04.16.07 (3:39 pm) [edit] 
They sat
They sat and simply stared like they did in the past,
The day they first met so many years ago,
So much promise and joy seemed to be there,
The seeds planted waiting to sprout,
Flooding the world with the light of their love.
Now
So many years later, here they are,
Staring, just that,
Both wondering what happened,
When did this cold silence start,
Becoming a chasm of separation,
Loneliness again making itself felt;
Hungry for food once there but now gone.
Each waiting in passive expectation
For the other to begin,
To reach out in vulnerability
Allowing the chance for a new beginning.
Until
One day it began,
Frustration leading to an explosion of recrimination,
Each blaming each,
Until the crescendo reached it apex,
The aftermath leading to clarity
For love was still buried after all
Under years of boredom and routine.
So
They start again,
Slowly painfully to seek to know and understand,
The mystery of the one before each of them,
Man and woman in love,
Different this time around,
Deeper, more calm,
Not driven, just something that is,
It only needs to be watered,
By concern, empathy, compassion,
Possible only by truly seeing,
Listening.
Then
Over time love returns,
Really always there,
They just needed to learn to see once again
This time based on reality of their humanity
Rooted in the world,
Ready do fight for what they have,
To change if need be.
For
If not then only death happens for them,
Separation in fact,
Or simply sitting apart staring at one another
Wondering who it is they are with.
practices
04.15.07 (12:39 pm) [edit] | |
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Being a catholic has it pluses, many of them actually. I think one is the number of devotional practices that are out there for people to partake in. Usually one or two is picked and the devotional life starts. One of the good things about these practices is that it allows one to pray and mediate on a regular basis, which soon becomes a habit that over flows into every day life. Many use scriptures every day for their devotions, others us practices that are based on scripture, but primarily come through some saint, or mystic to which the devotion has been revealed. Others develop over the centuries, like the Rosary for instance.
The rosary for example, took centuries to develop. It started as 150 Our Father’s, said to honor the 150 psalms in the bible. It was often called the poor man’s Psalter, since in the past very few knew how to read. Slowly it changed; Hail Mary’s replaced the Our Father on most beads, then it was broke down in decades, with the Our Father as the break point. Then the mysteries, based mostly on the scriptures were brought in, so today the Rosary is a popular devotion, mostly for Catholics, but non-Catholics in ever increasing numbers are starting to use it as well. The beads help to calm down the body, the gentle flow of being passed between the fingers is relaxing, which allows the mind to be free to ponder the mysteries. No one says it the same. Some are fast, others slow, no matter whatever works.
The chaplet of mercy, which is said with Rosary beads, is also another modern and very popular devotion, which began in the 1930’s I believe. What is good about this chaplet is its focus and intention on prayer for all of mankind, each person lifted up before the Father, asking for mercy obtained by the death and resurrection of Jesus. It is simple, and easy to learn, and I use it often in my moments when I am driving, walking, listening to the radio etc. These prayers, if said in a peaceful attentive manner, slowly open up the heart to God’s presence through out the day, and many can say ‘prayers’ without interruption or compulsion. The prayer of the heart comes to mind, often spoken of by those who say the Jesus Prayer on a regular basis.
Perhaps devotions are like a spiritual drink of water, which carries one through the day. It does not matter what devotions is used, as long as it is one compatible with the user. For instance prayers like the Rosary or chaplets would drive some people crazy, so they should not use them. Many like novenas, I am not big on them, yet many find a deep connection with God through this means. The psalms as I get older are becoming more important to me for use as private prayer, others don’t, and that is ok. Use what fits.
As I get older
04.14.07 (7:09 pm) [edit] | |
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My ideas about myself change as I get older. I am not sure they get deeper, but I do know that has I age, some false and perhaps some inflated ideas that I have about myself are changed, or perhaps busted is a better word. The old saying that the truth sets you free, is true; no doubt about that, but it has to be experienced to be believed. Less territory to defend that way, which can get old and tiring pretty quickly, really a waste of time and energy, life is simply too short. A fragile ego is always on the look out for attack.
When I was young, and perhaps to some extent, it is still true; I was careful never to admit weakness, that there might perhaps be something about myself that was not in control. I keep everything in, bottled up, thinking that I could deal with it all by myself……you know be the man sort of thing. Well it did work, sort of. It has made me independent, but even that, as I grow older, am finding it to be an illusion. I could never admit to being fearful for instance, angry yes, for that is again a manly kind of thing, get angry, show them who is the boss, blah, blah, double blah. It is so common that is actually boring to see it in others. On that note, probably boring also for others to experience it in me, it is not a very creative outlet, anger. It can overly focus ones attention, and the over all picture is lost. Don’t get me wrong, anger can be a very positive emotion, it is what gives energy for people to do the right thing, when an injustice is perceived, and then something can be done about it. The only problem with anger, when out of control, is the one having the fit takes on the cloak of infallibility: judge, jury, and executioner. This kind of thing works in the movies, hence its appeal for men, the perfect fantasy, a world were revenge actually works, and everyone lives happily ever after, when the smoke clears and the bodies are cleared away. Line them up, kill them, and peace is restored, to bad it does not work that way. Maybe not, things would probably be worse if it did. I wonder if anyone would be left standing?
My understanding of the Christian concept of sin has also changed as I have grown older. Not saying it is a mature understanding, or even that it is right, but nonetheless there are changes. I suppose one way to look at sin, is that it is a form of imprisonment. Locked up, tied down, unable to fly, to be free. Sort of like being manipulative by ones past, or what others want, or what society tells you what is good and right. Which in the long run, for the most part is usually not right at all, in fact it can be very dangerous. I have the feeling that we are all brain washed. It does not matter what society ones lives in, or what religion one follows, or if none is followed, or believed in. The end is the same, we are simply brain washed. Look around, or better yet look inside. What we believe, our desires, what we work for, give our life for, is often dictated by some authority outside of ourselves. The problem is not the outside authorities, but how we listen, believe, and perhaps do not question. What we believe does not matter either, at least in the pursuit of trying to break away from the group mind, belief systems are helpful, but there comes a time when we need to use our beliefs to delve deeper into the mystery of existence, and not just repeat what we have been told, or to even believe that there is an actual system out there that can give us the one final answer to all our problems. Extremes are bad, be it from the religious side or from the secular. Both become strident in their assertions, belittling, and in the end dehumanizing those who disagree. From that point it does not take much to get into more destructive modes of behavior to try to control others. Ahh the will to power, one of mankind’s most beloved pursuits.
It can be a fearful thing, to realize that perhaps we are supposed to seek, find the path dark and lonely, to fall, to get up, and yes to actually think for ourselves. I am not against authority; I am not fan of those who flaunt their so called independence. People like Howard Sterns come to mind, he is just a man who has gotten stuck in adolescents, spending his life trying to recapture the illusion of freedom he perhaps experienced, or thinks he experienced as a teenager. No I am not talking about that. I am talking about simply being free, not comparing others, just being. Something I am still struggling with, and will perhaps be dead one hour before I even begin to experience what freedom is actually like.
I am a man of my time, hence all of my thoughts are to one extent or another dictated by that, left, right, moderate, it is all the same. Perhaps that struggle is just as important for cultures as it is for the individual. Who knows, in any case, you can think for yourself within any system, for I have met atheist who are idiots as well as believers. Each group has their share of both, hang out with those who can think and discuss. Insight comes from stretching, listening, and perhaps at times debating. The main thing is to not be afraid of the process that comes with intellectual and spiritual growth.
Perhaps my soul is shattered, scattered about, little personalities within, each wanting one thing, and fighting each other about who wins out, with the poor ego trying to keep the brats in order. Sin could be an act of self creation, which is perhaps an illusion also. Perhaps grace is needed, healing, and yes forgiveness, and the ability to forgive ones self.
For me the world is a hall of mirrors, everything is reflected back onto me; projection does that. It is something we do without knowing it. We interrupt everything, and the scale we use, is from our own inner experience. The truths about us, both good, and not so good, and yes perhaps down right evil, is what is revealed to us. They knock on our door by showing themselves to us in the reflection of what is around us. Why fear this, we are known already, totally, everything is in the light, every dark corner seen, and yet we are loved, at least that is my experience with the Eternal, and as a Christian I will use terms that come from that tradition. To not do this has a heavy price, the scapegoat; another hobby mankind seems good at. Christ being “The Scapegoat” par excellence, the ultimate deadly fruit of that twisted ever so common process.
They mystery of Christ is something I have not even begun to understand, and perhaps that is what mystery is about, going deeper and deeper without ever learning everything. The more learned, the more one understands how little one really knows, or understands. Too many easy answers given by religion, which causes no amount of trouble for everyone in the long run and let us not forget the anguish and pain also.
Funny how common it is for people to believe that they are special, God loves them, and saves them, then, turn around and deny that for others. It is not just Christians who do that, it is a common human fault, wonder why we can’t learn from that reality. Life is a mystery, and no holy book will take that away. Finding God is simply being in the moment, seeing who it is before you, dropping comparisons that divide and then either enjoy, help, heal, or in other words love. Ok not easy to do, but at least in the trying, we know when we fail and can do something about it. In order to treat others as you would want to be treated, the first thing is to actually know what you want, another task not so easy. Waking up can be hard work, but in the end it is the only path to freedom, to the acceptance of grace, and the growth in our own oneness as revealed in Christ, and yes in other traditions.
Unfinished symphonies
04.13.07 (3:02 pm) [edit]
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Unfinished symphonies
She at times drives me to distraction with her neediness,
Calling me, just wanting to talk about things,
Perhaps to cry over hurts she has accumulated,
Or complains about her friend,
The one she loves.
Not young anymore, has not been for a long time,
Nearing her 70’s,
Yet like a teenager in her desires for someone,
A man to come swooping in and save her,
To ride off into the sunset,
Which of course will never happen.
She is intelligent,
Well educated and articulate.
It is her emotions that get her in trouble,
Uncontrolled, manic even at times,
She is on medication that help a bit,
Keep her out of a mental institution.
A good teacher from what I have heard.
Her boy friend helps her with the rent,
However is some ways abusive,
Makes promises and does not keep them,
“We will do something over Easter time he promises”,
Nothing,
Does not call,
Drives her crazy so she calls me to vent,
Wail,
Like a child hurt for the first time,
Each time,
Why can’t she learn,
Protect herself?
Not comprehending how he could do that to her.
It happens over and over again,
The cycle set,
She is unable to break it.
I often make her angry when I do not agree with her assessment,
Over why he does what he does?
I try to bring the responsibility to her,
Her boyfriend himself is caught,
He helps,
Perhaps more than he should,
Then anger,
Withdrawal,
Over and over again.
I have learned to listen,
Be devil’s advocate,
Then let her be,
She has to do what needs to be done.
I am not sure I would be doing better if I was in her place,
Don’t know,
So all I can do is listen,
Have boundaries that I need,
And trust in the process of life
That she can learn, and will,
Is it wrong to believe that?
Perhaps it is true,
In the end,
When death comes,
We are all unfinished symphonies.
The dreaded moment
04.11.07 (9:37 am) [edit] |
The dreaded moment
The man walked into the room,
The tension could be felt heavy on the air,
No one talking, each looking down,
Drowning in shame, or so it seemed.
He hesitated,
His breathing shallow and sharp,
Looked around and then with cautioned entered,
Not understanding why they were all waiting,
Looking guilty or perhaps just nervous.
One stranger sitting in the middle of the group,
The rest fanned out on either side,
Some held papers,
Others just had their hands clasped,
As if not quite knowing what to do with them.
His stomach began tighten,
Palms began to sweat,
He hated that, what he palms did when he was nervous.
He felt exposed,
For some reason naked
As if…..Oh my God,
Everyone could see through him.
Something horrible was about to happen,
His world was about to change,
Be shattered,
Making him face something about himself,
Deep and dark that he did not want to face,
However he could not go,
Where would he run,
It was too late,
The trap and sprung and he was caught.
He knew this was coming on some level,
His feeling surprised not that great
Shock however a different matter,
That the moment,
Dreaded,
Had come.
It started and he endured,
Forced himself to listen,
Allowing his ego to be stripped,
Anger,
Rage,
Yes love also present amidst it all,
For only love would cause his love ones to endure this with him.
He wept,
Fought, and then listened some more,
Like surgery it was the intervention,
When it was over…….well,
Then it begin for him
The slow tortuous journey back,
To what he did not know,
He knew that it had to be better than where he was,
Hell,
No other word could encompass it.
One day at a time, he trudges forward,
Seeking to make amends
To grow and change,
If he should fall he had something to climb back onto,
Supported by family and friends,
His new found trust in God fills him with hope and strength.
Aubrey
04.10.07 (3:47 pm) [edit] | |
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Aubrey,
The name unusual not often seen,
I see it at least three or four days a week,
Near Heritage High School, here in Conyers Ga.
Her name on a good sized sign, resting there,
Also there are assorted items,
One being a stuffed bear with bright colors.
She was a High School student I guess,
Never read about who she is,
Or how she died,
Does not matter really,
She is not just a story anyway,
Seeing the spot always makes me pause,
Wonder,
About her family,
Friends,
How they are doing,
How often they see her little shrine,
Which seems to be kept up by more than just family.
Friends?
Classmates?
In any case she was loved and is still remembered.
We find connections everywhere,
Our personnel webs are perhaps larger than we know,
The effect we have on others hidden,
Like Aubrey,
In death she touches me,
Perhaps many others also,
In any case I throw a prayer her way
Each time I pass.
I wonder if she knows.
If yes, then she must know many are praying for her,
Other like her also,
The personnel web constantly grows,
Connection deep made,
Perhaps unfelt but there all the same.
Our lives mean more than we can understand,
Perhaps our deaths only bring us closer in,
Not further out.
Surrounded
04.09.07 (7:29 pm) [edit] |
Surrounded
You see the shrines everywhere if time is taken to look,
Sometimes they stay for years,
At others, months, or just weeks.
Memorials of those taken suddenly without warning,
One moment riding, or driving,
Perhaps laughing,
Singing or listening to the radio,
Or maybe less innocent pastimes,
Drinking,
Speeding,
Or just arguing,
What people do in cars.
Then in a second
An ending horrible,
Sometimes with fire finishing what was started.
Some shrines have crosses,
Others toys,
The most heartbreaking, for children lost,
I drive by them often here where I live,
Reminders of how things can change in an instant.
Slowly, as the days go by and I see them as I drive by,
A sorrow slowly forms,
Enwrapping me like a grey dark fog,
Light in weight but heavy in the remembrance,
Over and over again
Of those I never knew<
Yet a bond of some textured form grows.
When I pass I can almost feel them staring at me,
Not scary, but peaceful, sometimes imploring,
Perhaps just my imagination.
I often say a prayer for them,
Their families and friends,
Which flows eventually towards all who have died.
These shrines are a doorway to look upon the great majority,
They who have past over during the long weary years of mankind’s journey,
Who perhaps also pray for us before God’s throne,
For are we not surrounded by a cloud of witnesses?
Explosion
04.08.07 (9:15 am) [edit]
Explosion
In coldness deep,
Embracing darkness,
Where light has never been,
Nor is it welcome.
In the bottomless abyss
The domain of death
Both the seeding place of sin,
One with its fruit,
Isolation,
Nothingness,
Complacent it held man captive,
Enchained helpless.
Until
In a moment,
It happened in an instant,
Death shaken from its slumber,
The realization its time is over,
For in its deepest center
The bottomless abyss shuddered,
Light illuminating it essential nothingness
Before God’s awesome love and power,
Freeing those chained,
Offering life to those who desire it,
The eternal embrace where all is one.
Explosion
04.08.07 (9:15 am) [edit]
Explosion
In coldness deep,
Embracing darkness,
Where light has never been,
Nor is it welcome.
In the bottomless abyss
The domain of death
Both the seeding place of sin,
One with its fruit,
Isolation,
Nothingness,
Complacent it held man captive,
Enchained helpless.
Until
In a moment,
It happened in an instant,
Death shaken from its slumber,
The realization its time is over,
For in its deepest center
The bottomless abyss shuddered,
Light illuminating it essential nothingness
Before God’s awesome love and power,
Freeing those chained,
Offering life to those who desire it,
The eternal embrace where all is one.
Explosion
04.08.07 (9:14 am) [edit]
Explosion
In coldness deep,
Embracing darkness,
Where light has never been,
Nor is it welcome.
In the bottomless abyss
The domain of death
Both the seeding place of sin,
One with its fruit,
Isolation,
Nothingness,
Complacent it held man captive,
Enchained helpless.
Until
In a moment,
It happened in an instant,
Death shaken from its slumber,
The realization its time is over,
For in its deepest center
The bottomless abyss shuddered,
Light illuminating it essential nothingness
Before God’s awesome love and power,
Freeing those chained,
Offering life to those who desire it,
The eternal embrace where all is one.
Easter evidence
04.07.07 (7:21 pm) [edit] | |
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Easter Evidence
The skepticism and suspicion of the past four decades is giving way to an acceptance that Christ's resurrection is the only explanation that makes sense.
BY TIM DRAKE
REGISTER SENIOR WRITER
April 8-14, 2007 Issue | Posted 4/3/07 at 8:00 AM
SAN DIEGO — If the so-called “Jesus Family Tomb” proves anything, it’s that efforts to discount the resurrection continue. It’s a mystery that remains a stumbling block for many.
Last month, the Discovery Channel aired James Cameron’s documentary on the “Jesus Family Tomb,” claiming the discovery of a tomb with ossuaries bearing the names of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and “Judah son of Jesus.”
Scholars and archaeologists disproved Cameron’s findings, saying that the text on the Mary Magdalene ossuary actually read “Mary and Martha,” and that the tomb was more than likely the tomb of St. Paul’s friend, another Jesus, who was also known as Justus, son of Joseph. Following the revelation, Discovery pulled its planned repeat of the program.
Yet, according to several Catholic theologians and apologists, there’s a new trend in Scripture scholarship. That trend is away from the skepticism and suspicion of the past four decades toward an acceptance of the Gospels and toward the fact that Christ’s resurrection is the only explanation that makes sense.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that “the mystery of Christ’s resurrection is a real event, with manifestations that were historically verified, as the New Testament bears witness” (CCC 639).
Pope Benedict XVI has said as much.
“I trust the Gospels,” he wrote in the introduction to his forthcoming book on Christ, Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration.
“Being a Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event,” he said in his first encyclical letter, Deus Caritas Est (God Is Love).
Protestants often turn to other sources for proof. The popular Evangelical speaker and author Josh McDowell writes about the significance of the moved stone and the grave clothes.
That’s natural, says Steve Ray, an Evangelical convert to the Catholic faith.
“In the Catholic world, we trust in the authority of the Church,” he said. “Evangelicals are always looking for facts. If all you have is the book, you’re constantly trying to prove that the book is true. We believe when the Church told us that Christ rose from the dead, the Church is the voice of Christ in the world today, and we can trust it. It’s a whole different methodology because of what we see as our source of authority.”
“What puzzles the world, and its wise philosophers and fanciful pagan poets, about the priests and people of the Catholic Church is that they still behave as if they were messengers,” wrote the British Catholic convert G.K. Chesterton in The Everlasting Man. “A messenger does not dream about what his message might be, or argue about what it probably would be; he delivers it as it is.”
“The Church would never use things like the Shroud of Turin or the gravestone to try to prove the resurrection,” said Michael Barber, professor of theology at John Paul the Great Catholic University in San Diego, Calif. “There is a distinction between public and private revelation. The shroud is not part of the deposit of faith.”
Instead, Catholics rely on the authority of the Church, the Biblical evidence, and tradition that has been passed on.
“The compelling evidence for me is the unanimous testimony of all the apostles and even a former persecutor like St. Paul,” said Brant Pitre, assistant professor of theology at Our Lady of Holy Cross College in New Orleans. “There was no debate in the first century over whether Jesus was resurrected or not.”
Scholars say that the witnesses to Christ’s resurrection are compelling for a variety of reasons.
“People will seldom die even for what they know to be true. Twelve men don’t give up their lives for a lie,” said Ray, who recently returned from France, where he was filming his “Footprints of God” series at the amphitheater in Lyon, the site of a persecution in A.D. 177. “The martyrs of Lyon underwent two days of torture and all they would say is, ‘I am a Christian.’ They knew the resurrection was true and didn’t question it.”
Barber also highlighted the diversity of sources and how they include different details as well as passages that do not paint the disciples in the best light.
“In the Road to Emmaus story, they write that they didn’t recognize him,” said Barber. “Our Biblical accounts are our best evidence.”
Several of the scholars pointed to 1 Corinthians, where Paul states that Christ appeared to 500 people.
“Some want to shy away from the Gospels because they say they were written later,” explained Barber. “If you want to believe that they were written later, then why wouldn’t the Gospels have made use of this piece of evidence from 1 Corinthians?” asked Barber.
Barber also pointed to two non-Christian sources that make reference to Christ. The first is Tacitus. The second is the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus, who, noted Barber, actually mentions the resurrection.
“In Antiquities of the Jews, Book 18, Chapter 3, paragraph 3, Josephus references Jesus’ resurrection,” said Barber. “The problem is that most scholars think it’s a later Christian addition to Josephus. We don’t have his original work.”
Recent Scholarship
Belief in resurrection was not completely foreign to Judaism.
“A belief in the resurrection of the dead is a major element of traditional Judaism,” said Jon Levenson, professor of Jewish studies at Harvard. “According to the Mishnah, the first rabbinic law code, belief that God would resurrect the dead is an obligation, not an option, for Jews.”
But, as Barber pointed out, such a belief was only found in one segment of Judaism at the time of Christ.
“The Pharisees believed in resurrection; the Sadducees didn’t,” said Barber. “But along with that belief was that with the resurrection would come the dawning of the restoration of the Davidic kingdom.”
Barber also points to the fact that Christ’s resurrection is not the only resurrection attested to in the Gospels.
He referenced the resurrections of Lazarus and Jairus’ daughter.
And in the Gospel of Matthew (27:52-53), when Jesus dies, “tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised. And coming forth from their tombs after his resurrection, they entered the holy city and appeared to many.”
“The fundamental conviction in a scientific age with our post-enlightenment views is that these things didn’t happen,” said Barber. “People have determined that any source that talks about resurrection is unreliable and rule it out. What kind of science is that? You don’t just dispense with evidence that you don’t like.
“Many scholars are now recognizing that one should not so easily dismiss the reliability of the Gospel of John,” added Barber. “Some have compared the Gospel of John with the Pauline epistles and found numerous points of contact, so it’s very plausible that John’s Gospel may have been written earlier than previously thought by many historical critical scholars.”
Gone are the days where the Jesus Seminar dominated. The Jesus Seminar is a research team of New Testament scholars founded in 1985 by the late Robert Funk and ex-priest John Dominic Crossan to use historical methods to determine what Jesus may or may not have said or done. The seminar’s reconstruction of Jesus portrayed him as a wandering sage who did not found a religion or rise from the dead.
According to Barber, there’s an alignment of scholars in support of the original Gospel texts.
“The dominant strain in mainstream Biblical scholarship is from those who are convinced that the Gospels are indeed reliable,” said Barber. He cited the work of N.T. Wright, Craig Evans, Craig Blomberg and Richard Bauckham as some examples.
“These people are not on the fringes. They are in the mainstream,” said Barber. “At the Society of Biblical Literature gathering in Atlanta last year, Eerdmans Books sold out of all of Wright’s book before the three-day conference was over.”
“In The Resurrection of the Son of God, Wright argues that the bodily resurrection of Jesus is the best historical explanation for what happened, given the evidence,” said Pitre. “Whenever others posit alternative scenarios, such as that the body was stolen or that people only saw his spirit, you have to discount all kinds of evidence from the Gospel. Those alternatives lack evidence to back them up.”
Skeptics discount the resurrection, said Catholic apologist Dave Armstrong, because no one saw the event itself. Yet, Armstrong pointed out, “not many people witness murders, either, but we manage to scrounge up enough evidence to punish murderers. Nobody witnessed the Big Bang or the whole process of macroevolution, but atheists and agnostics have no trouble believing in those things.”
Finally, all of the scholars agreed that Christ’s resurrection ran counter to Jewish monotheism. Therefore, they wonder, how else can you account for the rise of Christianity aside from the resurrection?
“Look at all the data from the Gospels and the eyewitnesses, and there is no other way to account for the rise of Christianity than the rising of Jesus from the tomb on the third day,” said Barber. “There’s no other way to make sense of the data we have.”
No matter what evidence we have, noted Barber, we’ll always come up short.
“The resurrection is a mystery. We can’t demonstrate the mysteries of faith empirically. We don’t know all the details, we just know the tomb was empty,” said Barber. “The mysteries go beyond reason.”
Copyright © 2007 Circle Media, Inc. All rights reserved.
Mankind waits
04.07.07 (8:49 am) [edit]
Mankind waits
Within the tomb is only darkness complete,
Its entrance sealed with a large stone,
Only cold the companion of what was once a man,
Now just icy meat,
Bloodless from its tortuous death
Its body scarred from scourges,
Skin ripped deep from the 40 minus 1, lashes.
Surrounded by absolute nothingness,
Part of the abyss of death,
Bottomless,
Hungry for all life,
Hope,
Desires and dreams.
The fate of all, the outward reality of what is within,
Death in seed form growing,
A force that cannot be denied.
So for this day the wait continues for the dawn,
Will it come?
Faith is often difficult when darkness closes in,
“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me”,
Yet what starts off in pain and despair,
Ends in faith and hope.
We still wait,
Hoping against hope that it is true,
Such is faith,
Deep,
Yet doubt there,
Still mankind waits
For the dawn.
The exception
04.06.07 (11:32 am) [edit] |
Time seems to be speeding up for me; faster and faster, each year. I know this is a common perception; still at times it is disconcerting. True some days can seem to drag, yet when the month is done, it all seems a blur to me. Sort of like a NASCAR race, the cars going round and round, the miles piling up, racing towards the finish line.
My dad’s generation is dying off fast, only three left from his family; three out of eight brothers and sisters remain. One died just last week, he was 84 years old. In a few short years they to will be gone, as if they never were. I look at old photos, well not that old, 12 years maybe, and most in the photos are now gone. Their laughter and smiles fading, though they still have the power to haunt me, probably with less intensity as the years fly by.
Death; some days I am at peace about it, on others, my heart feels like it is gripped by a hard icy cold hand, sucking all color and warmth from my life. Most of the time however it is thought about in the abstract, which puts it at a safe distance, something to be studied, not really real, or perhaps so far in the future that it does not affect me; yes I lie to myself a lot about this. One can think about the death of others, because being an observer to the event is what really happens, at another’s death. However it is not possible to observe ones own death, it is experienced.
Christ Jesus is the exception, for he did experience my coming death. The suffering that will come with it, the fear, perhaps the fighting of despair, so common in many deaths, and not only mine, but Jesus knows all of our deaths. His dying shows us the death of each, it is our soul we observe when looking upon his suffering, death, and victory. We are each enfolded in the eternal, ever new moment of God. In this is our hope and joy even in times of deep pain, suffering and darkness. For after all what can separate us from the love of God?
Suffering God
04.06.07 (8:11 am) [edit]
HE WAS DESPISED and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity. … Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed.
Isaiah 53:3-5 (NRSV)
THERE IS GOOD biblical evidence that God not only suffered in Christ, but that God in Christ suffers with his people still. … It is wonderful that we may share in Christ's sufferings; it is more wonderful still that he shares in ours.
John R. W. Stott, The Cross of Christ
HAS NOT GOD in Jesus Christ become radically open to the life of the world and become vulnerable to human sin and suffering? In the light of the gospel story, God is not impassible, but passionate, suffering love. If God is love, then receptivity, vulnerability, and suffering are not strange to God's being. God is free to love and thus free to experience the suffering of the world.
Daniel L. Migliore, The Power of God
UNLESS GOD is on the balance and throws his weight as a counterbalance, we shall sink to the bottom of the scale. If it is not true that God died for us, but only a man died, we are lost. But if God's death and God lie dead in the opposite scale, then his side goes down and we go upward like a light or empty pan. But he could not have sat in the pan unless he became a man like us, so that it could be said: God dead, God's passion, God's blood, God's death.
Martin Luther, quoted in the Formula of Concord
IT IS A GOOD THING to learn early that God and suffering are not opposites but rather one and the same thing and necessarily so; for me, the idea that God himself suffers is far and away the most convincing piece of Christian doctrine.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison
GOD not only participates in our suffering, but also makes our suffering into his own and takes death into his life.
Jurgen Moltmann, in Theology Today
A THEOLOGY that embraces the idea that God cannot suffer has to answer the question: Can God love? Abraham Heschel rightly said that the essence of Hebraic prophetic faith is that God takes the people of his covenantal love so seriously that he suffers for their actions.
Dennis Ngien, in Christianity Today
GRANT, O LORD, that in your wounds I may find my safety, in your stripes my cure, in your pain my peace, in your Cross my victory, in your Resurrection my triumph, and a crown of righteousness in the glories of your eternal kingdom.
Jeremy Taylor, The Westminster Collection of Christian Prayers
Copyright © 2007 Christianity Today
I suppose
04.05.07 (8:17 am) [edit]
I suppose
When I look into my own heart, I often see that the source of much of my suffering is my desire to find some way to control the world around me. People, things, events, it does not matter, for after all does not reality revolve around me? Well I guess in some way that is true. The only problem being is that the same is true for everyone else. Each a god of sorts in universes small, but nonetheless real, with its own history, wounds, angers, loves, and the bottom line, unique interpretations that often do not jive with others.
Some people I seem to be able to understand, to comprehend what they are saying, even if I don’t agree with them, I can make jumps, and they do not in anyway cause me distress. These often become friends. Others on the other hand seem to be from another planet, or perhaps some universe, far, far, away. It seems that their way of relating, reacting, interrupting, is a true mystery to me. Like oil and water. Mix it up with a good shake, and wait, then it separates again. It is usually a two way street, and the best that can be hoped for is a truce of some kind, where mutual respect is achieved, and a smooth relationship can be arrived at. Just let each other be.
I suppose the golden rule can come in handy in times like this. To treat others as I would like to be treated, can fall smoothly from the tongue; pious, deep sounding, but in reality the living it out is very difficult. It can also be wearisome. For I am sure that much of the time, I do not advert to how I would like to be treated, it is in no way conscious. I suppose if you go deep enough, much of it is probably quite infantile. You know the old saying, or really a joke: “treat me like any other great person”, is in fact probably operative in me. Even if the above is infantile, I wonder if it is not a common, if unconscious desire in many. To know this, understand it, and try to live it out with my own day to day interaction with others, would go a long way to smoothing out my life.
I am amazed at how I can at times totally discount the feelings, emotions, and yes thoughts and ideas of others, when if the same was done to me I would be quite angry, or perhaps enraged. I suppose the only saving grace is that the discounting is not done in any malicious way, it is just I am simply not aware, and to react is all I can do. Now this is not an excuse, but there you have it.
I sometimes think that I am not just “Mark”, but in reality a cluster of personalities, some mature, spiritual, others conflicted, and still others, petty, mean, and well, to speak bluntly, simply stupid…… I have no other words for it. I think the only difference between me and someone with multiple personality disorder, is the fact the walls between these different aspects of myself have windows, so they can peek in on each other once in awhile, which only leads to conflict for me, which again can be wearisome.
I suppose the tag to use for this struggle is simply, “The will to power”, control. A struggle doomed to failure, leading only to frustration, alienation, isolation, if not dealt with. Perhaps the world is just a mirror image that goes on in my own soul, and perhaps in the souls of others. I don’t know for sure, for I hope that there are people out there who have a measure of peace with themselves, perhaps they are the hope for the world. I doubt however that many of them go into politics, since they don’t want power in the first place.
Jesus washed the feet of his apostles. God as servant, now perhaps the answer lies in that, to serve. Jesus washing the feet of his followers, is like President Bush going into a Blue Collar bar, seeing that the men and women there are the back bone of this country, and then understanding what it means to be a true leader, a servant, then kneeling down in a spontaneous moment, no cameras, or press, and washing and kissing the feet of those whom he serves. I wonder what would happen, if that ever occurred.
On some level people respond to humble leaders who are servants, it seems simply the way it should be. A humble leader will be followed out of love and respect, and not out of fear and respect, that is so common today. I am not judging, for I do not know how I would respond, if I somehow was in a position of great power, perhaps I would become a monster, becoming the very thing I say I hate. You know how the old saying goes, “We become what we hate”. Yes I think the will to power is strong in me, and it does cause me and others distress at times.
When Christ draws near
04.02.07 (7:28 pm) [edit] | |
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When Christ draws near
It is the shattered soul that Christ draws near,
The deeper the abuse, or neglect ,suffered at the hands of others,
Those also consumed with self-hatred;
These share in the true sorrow and horror of the cross.
It is the souls of the rejected the downtrodden
Show to us the suffering Christ.
Nothing in life can keep God’s love from flowing out
Into the bleeding lacerated hearts of those crushed by life.
Those who do evil are also close to God’s heart
Who else can see the depth of hell and still love,
Only that which is infinite
Unending,
Deeper than all oceans,
Infinite love has no depth
For there is no end to it.
The twisted body of Christ on the cross
Mirrors to us our own deepest selves,
Reflects back onto us our rage and anger,
Our lashing out at what is good and innocent.
Yet after being tortured,
Flayed alive,
Crowned and mocked,
Then the cruel crucifixion,
Surrounded by hatred and violence,
He said:
‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Christ does not offer escape from life,
Suffering he took upon himself to journey with us,
He became our souls,
Feels all our sufferings and yes our joy, for God is one.
In our sufferings and private hells he resides with us,
He does not flinch,
He carries our wounds,
Such is infinite loves ability to carry the sufferings of mankind.
Only in love can we be free from the tyranny of hatred, revenge and sin,
A prison built by souls consumed with pain and rage,
Only God’s grace can find a way of healing
Something beyond our ability to understand or even comprehend.
Foolish is it?
Well yes the wisdom of God is folly to man,
At times I am tempted to not believe in such a love,
To give up,
So much pain,
Borne by so many.
In prayer we are one with Christ,
One with mankind,
Our prayer becomes the prayer of Christ,
Bringing all into his mystical body,
Lived out in this pain racked,
Blood soaked world.
Yes it can be hard to believe,
Yet we are loved,
Treasured,
In that is our joy,
A joy that does fill the world
Yet we often do not see it,
Our eyes are clouded by our narrow perspective.
God perspective is like that of a parents actions
Not understood by the child,
Only much more so.
So never give up hope,
When things are the darkest,
When we feel our pain the deepest,
Our failures stare us in the face and accuse us,
Know the you are loved and it is then that Christ draws near.
Do I understand?
No I do not,
The absurdity of life is a lie,
Often easier to believe in than the Eternal,
Faith is a gift as well as a choice.
In times of darkness I choose to believe.
Yet I understand those who do not share my faith,
They to are searching,
Seeking,
That is what we do.
It is best to love and not judge,
The human heart is deep,
Only God truly sees,
Knows,
In judging we often judge ourselves.
Leo's journey
04.02.07 (8:33 am) [edit] |
Leo's journey
It started out as a quiet day here; I was in the back office working on the computer, when suddenly I heard my named called “Mark come here!” So I rushed out to see what was going on. In my line of work it could be anything. When I got to the main sitting area I saw that Leo, one of my charges seemed to be having a seizure; his body was very stiff, his head turned to his left, looking up with a fixed hard stare, that was not focused. Now Leo has advance Alzheimer’s, a disease that he contracted quite young, in his early 50’s, and now at 67 he is far advanced. Because of this we would not call 911, since his mind is already so far gone. So I stayed with him, saying soothing words, holding his hand until it stopped. He then became clammy and cold. He was in one of those geriatric chairs, so I put him in a reclining position, covered him up, and rolled the chair down to his room, so he could have some quiet. After a seizure, there is usually fatigue, so rest is needed. I left him in his chair for about an hour, and then we got him into bed. He slept for the better part of the day, but in mid afternoon he started throwing up.
Leo is losing his ability to swallow. At this point he swallows when he is eating ok, but outside of meal time he seems to have lost this ability. He just allows the saliva to build, and then simply spits. So when vomiting, it can be tricky to get him to get it all out. I set him up in the bed, placed a towel around his neck and tried to get him to simply let it out. Finally the pressure got great enough were it simply came out on its own. I was afraid that he may in the end think it food and swallow it, which could lead to aspiration, pneumonia, and lead to death.
After calling the RN, she decided that it might be best to take him into the Emergency Room for testing. He has a benign growth in his brain, and it could be growing, impinging on areas that are the cause of his distress. We needed to know, so we could treat him properly. Our main concern in patients like Leo is comfort, it is all we can really do. Taking someone to the ER in Leo’s condition can be traumatic, but there are times when it is needed. They do all the test needed, and you get the results while there. It does of course take hours, but I am used to that. I always take reading material with me, so the time goes by at a good pace. It is noisy of course, so Leo was a bit agitated, but he did not become a real problem.
A funny thing happened while there. I had to change him, and all they have there are those horrible, cheap, square, shaped briefs. I have never been good at putting them on; I always do something ‘stupid’ and just can’t seem to get it. Well I think I finally got it on right, and then I could not find the small plastic strap to close one side, so I ask for help. The tech did not come, but our RN Rose arrived to help, laughed when I told her my problem. She said she hated them also, but they are cheap, so the Emergency Room uses them. With her help, we finally got him clean and dry, with the briefs on. I think next time I go into the ER, I will take a couple of pair of the briefs we use here.
In the end they found nothing. Which was good news, but frustrating, because it is not much help in how to give him the best care possible. We got home, and he fell again into a very deep sleep, which later seemed to moving towards a possible coma. It is always a difficult call, well usually impossible to know which direction a situation like this will go in. So I called his sister and let her know the situation. Stating that he ‘seems’ to be getting worse, and there might be the possibility of his dying. I also let her know that it might not be anything like that at all, he could wake up and live for quite a while yet. We talked for a bit longer, and she thanked me. I got all of her other phone numbers and promised to keep her informed. Leo sister’s health is not the best either, she is in her 70’s and just had a knee replacement, and their were complications, so she cannot travel.
So I sat a bit with Leo last night. We had him anointed, he being catholic, part of the perpetration for death, though it is now called the sacrament of healing and not the last rites, like it was just a few years ago. I like to read the psalms when sitting with the sick and dying, they truly become real when you are dealing with the death of a human being, one that I have worked with for a few years. I believe the psalms are truly the prayer of mankind before God, with all of the emotions we are often enveloped in. There is joy, sorrow, rage, yes the desire for revenge, acts of faith and moments of despair, all in the prayer book called the psalms. I also feel that I am with all who are dying, or who have died, this I believe is the power of prayer. We truly connect to God’s moment, the eternal one when praying. We truly represent one another when praying; we are after all joined to Christ who truly identifies with each one of us.
Well I guess it was about 8PM on the first day after his seizure that Leo woke up, restless, so we got him up. After a few hours he fell back to sleep and now he is in bed. He flickers in and out, so no one knows which way it will go, in either case he is in God’s hands, and really is not that enough?
The thread for each will one day be cut
Life’s a journey soon over,
No matter what year the call comes
The years never seem to be enough,
Yet go we must through the dark door
Our journey continuing,
The mystery deep and dark,
Yet light is there,
Often not perceived,
We are just blinded by the infinite,
Since finite we are.
In the end we truly are like flowers in the field
A truth sometimes hard to accept
For time cannot be slowed down,
But seems to hasten faster as the years fly by.
The inner path
The cosmic war is fought within the human heart,
Good and evil,
Love and hate,
Greed and generosity,
The list perhaps endless,
Live as neighbors often isolated one from the other,
Either one or the other in ascendance;
When in fact both need to be in balance,
For chaos to be held in check.
Dark and light when separate become grey,
When together the bright green of growth and hope arise,
Inner conflict leading to resolution
If allowed to run it proper course.
Self knowledge is not what should be feared,
That which is unacknowledged should be,
Since it will grow on it own,
One day to appear in a flash of destructive red,
Leaving only pain in its wake,
Only to recede once again when it has expressed its frustration.
Are we good or evil?
For most neither.
The final choice not yet taken, the seeds resting deep within,
Their roots seeking nourishment from the sleeping unaware soul.
Look in the mirror and do not flinch,
The dark night of the soul,
Is the path taken by all, sooner or later,
Who wish salvation.
Death to the old way of fear and flight,
Leading to healing, by ways painful and obscure.
The inner light blinding in its nearness and intensity,
Infinite love neither soft nor indulging.