Strangers to ourselves
02.29.08 (10:58 am) [edit] |  |
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Strangers to ourselves
Within those that you meet
rest an entire universe undisclosed,
hidden behind the mask we show each other
perhaps not even knowing the costume presented,
for our depths perhaps take a life time to delve
and even then we could die strangers to ourselves,
We often see more into others
or perhaps,
reflection really of who we are,
yes a puzzle hard to disciper
in the confusing world of ours.
An act of blasphemy
02.29.08 (8:16 am) [edit]
An act of blasphemy
We live in world where nothing can be taken for granted,
Though we in fact do,
Pretending that our life
Health and well being don’t hang by a string.
Those we love and those we don’t
Surround us each day with their beauty,
Smiles,
Light,
Their deep thoughts
And healing presences
Yet we take each other for naught.
We look hard for security not found
Nor possible really in a world bound by time.
The years fly by,
Faster and faster they go,
Yet we often fail to understand
Why the melting of the snow.
Seasons come and seasons go,
The years like sand pass though our hands,
Yet not seeing we fail to looked at the eternal guiding hand,
Uplifted
And uplifting
Hidden in the deep within,
Yet we seek that which disappears
And not that which endures.
Nothing works,
Everything fails,
Those around us have feet of clay
Yet are loved by the Eternal.
Pilgrims we are
A truth hard to bear,
Never a place to rest for us
For our journey races towards the prize,
Though death is the ticket
To escape the womb that can be our prison.
So surrounding by beings of light
Made in God’s image out of love,
Those around us should be embraced,
Honored,
Neither hated nor mocked.
To hate another,
Or oneself,
Is an act of blasphemy.
Lone song
02.28.08 (11:03 am) [edit] | |
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Lone song
In the dark silence of the early morning,
the cold air
accompanied by the bone white moon;
my companions,
then
I was joined by another,
the lone song
of a mocking bird
reaching out in the night
perhaps seeking a response,
like me,
seeking in silence
a deep communion
with the not yet seen,
but sought.
Inner storm
02.27.08 (5:31 pm) [edit] | |
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Inner storm
The pounding waves encroaching the shore,
the howling wind
racing over the sea,
the thunder rumbling loudly,
hot flashes of lightening ripping apart the sky,
at times
just a reflection of my own inner chaos.
A symphony of sorts
02.27.08 (4:23 pm) [edit] | |
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A symphony of sorts
Sitting in back on a windy evening,
my mind at peace
with few thoughts flowing,
the cold air welcome
I find it all very refreshing
its feel against my skin bracing.
The wind whispering loudly in the night
the silhouettes of tree branches
gesturing wildly against the dark blue sky,
a symphony of sorts,
the sounds of nature,
wind,
branches gesturing,
leaves blowing in the wind,
something I never tire of.
In the silence thoughts of the One arise
the eternal,
present in all things,
yet hidden,
yes the faith the key
to enter into the one important relationship.
Journey
02.26.08 (6:57 pm) [edit] | |
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The journey
The journey long
With pain and darkness our companions,
The desire to despair,
To give up,
A constant challenge to overcome.
Yet at times unexpected
You break though,
Your touch felt,
Healing given,
Hope restored,
Then you hide again
Perhaps it is a form of play
You hide,
We seek,
Then when fatigue takes over
And we are ready to give up
You again touch us.
A strange game,
Yet I feel necessary,
For we sit on the shore of eternity
Vastness incomprehensible
Mystery eternal
And you lead us the only way you can,
By wounding us with love,
Withdrawing into darkness,
So we can grow
Learning to love you
For yourself alone.
Enriched
02.26.08 (12:20 pm) [edit] | |
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Enriched
We each have our own universe
unique in its perspective,
outlook.
Some are dark and lonely places,
others open and wide
inviting others in,
then both are enriched.
Bridges built between worlds difficult,
yet what could be more worthwhile;
to delve into the riches of the other,
taking each closer to reality.
Though at this time
perhaps we do see through a veil darkly
helping each other,
slowly,
to move towards truth
or yes
the light.
Years with William
02.26.08 (8:27 am) [edit] | |
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Years with William
Well the years certainly fly by, it does not seem like I have been taking care of William for almost eight years now. Four of them however have not been in the lock down unit. Before he came to the unit, we only kept a close eye on him, to watch the progression of his Alzheimer’s which at first started off slowly. It was only when he became a flight risk that we had to bring him into lock down. Before that there would be flare ups, and of course erratic behavior but he was not a danger to himself.
The first two years were difficult, since he would forget where was at, and would start hollering for his mother, who has of course been dead for many years now. He would often wait by the door, and would actually get out a few times. I remember one night I was called because he got out. After looking for him for about an hour, I found him near the highway, just getting ready to step onto it. The traffic was very heavy, so it could have been fatal to him, and also for whoever had the misfortune of hitting him.
He has been sent to a psyche hospital at least four times in the last few years, the last time was the worst. They could not find the medicines they wanted for him and they changed them so much that it almost killed him. So we have had our ups and downs with William, but he is worth it.
The last year he has deteriorated quite a bit, losing weight, unable to use his legs, having bouts of yelling and violence, sometimes being very extreme, hitting, spiting, kicking etc. Lately he is sleeping more, really out of it. We are in a bind with him at this time. His medicines could be part of the problem (though not a major one), but if we cut them back he tends to have periods of paranoia, which causes him a great deal of suffering, causing anguish for those who take care of him. Today for instance he slept all day. On days like this we try to give him shakes, carnation breakfast is one that we use here often. A shake give him calories as well as liquid, since dehydration is a serious problem for him, so today I think we off set any serious episodes of dehydration, but I think he will continue to weaken.
He is very gentle at this time, even when he is confused, he tends to work with us, but that could change anytime. Even though he is spending more time sleeping, he still has days when he is restless, moody and difficult to deal with….however they are becoming less. Yes it has been a long haul with William, but it has and still is a privilege to work with someone like him.
Of course it is impossible to make some kind of prediction on when someone will die, for he could go tonight, or live another year or two; though I can’t see it much more than that. His intake of food is causing him to slowly lose weight, he simply will not eat that much. Even the shakes are starting to cause a problem since he is starting to aspirate when drinking. We are using thickener with his shakes and other drinks, but in the end these will also loose their ability to protect him. So like most of us, we are slowly backed into a corner, until finally we can’t move and then it is over. It can take years or decades but in the end it is the same; we wear out.
It is good to be able to make lives a little more comfortable for those in our care, and I guess you can say that those cared for and the ones giving the care learn to love one another.
Simple ritual
02.25.08 (3:14 pm) [edit] | |
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Simple ritual
Sitting with friends over a common ritual
a simple one acquiring no fuss
yet important,
something done over and over again
it does matter how many times it happens,
for when it does
a deeper bond is formed
and trust grows;
yes how we love our rituals,
the simple act of sitting with a friend,
sharing food and drink,
laughter,
stories,
and yes tales of pain and worry
can be moments of deep healing
allowing one to have the strength to go on,
none of us is so independent
that no one is needed to make the road easier,
more pleasant
and at times just something bearable,
until once again the sun rises.
As practiced by man
02.25.08 (8:05 am) [edit] | |
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As practiced by man
Justice as practiced by man
is often fed by the desire for revenge
energized with the fuel of wrath
encouraged by self-righteousness.
God’s mercy
experienced as wrath
is rooted in infinite love,
allowing true justice to flow
Better to fall into God’s wrath
than man’s justice.
Into the silent land
02.24.08 (7:32 pm) [edit]
From the Publisher
Sitting in stillness, the practice of meditation, and the cultivation of awareness are commonly thought to be the preserves of Hindus and Buddhists. Martin Laird shows that the Christian tradition of contemplation has its own refined teachings on using a prayer word to focus the mind, working with the breath to cultivate stillness, and the practice of inner vigilance or awareness. But this book is not a mere historical survey of these teachings. In Into the Silent Land, we see the ancient wisdom of both the Christian East and West brought sharply to bear on the modern-day longing for radical openness to God in the depths of the heart.
Laird's book is not like the many presentations for beginners. While useful for those just starting out, this book serves especially as a guide for those who desire to journey yet deeper into the silence of God. The heart of the book focuses on negotiating key moments of struggle on the contemplative path, when the whirlwind of distractions or the brick wall of boredom makes it difficult to continue. Laird shows that these inner struggles, even wounds, that any person of prayer must face, are like riddles, trying to draw out of us our own inner silence. Ultimately Laird shows how the wounds we loathe become vehicles of the healing silence we seek, beyond technique and achievement. Throughout the language is fresh, direct, and focused on real-life examples of people whose lives are incomparably enriched by the practice of contemplation.
"This is a beautifully written book. The language is profound, poetic, and free of worn cliches. It has obviously grown out of a life of study, erudition, and personal prayer." --Worship
"Into theSilent Land by Martin Laird is a wonderful introduction to the subject of contemplation. It has a vitality and relevance that are gripping. Contemplative books are often dry, but I found this a page-turner." --Church Times
"In a world hungering for practical spiritual direction on how to manage distractions, moods, bodily posture, breathing, suffering, illness, addiction, and dying, Laird's book stands out as a treasure to share with anyone who is seeking greater wisdom and peace. He provides us with an eminently accessible doorway into the land of God's loving silence." --Horizons
"Larid's book defines how to sink back in God's ground physically with breathing, mentally with "prayer words," and spiritually with interior surrender. Through anecdote, Scripture, and classic wisdom, Laird illuminates a Christian path into the silent land. An able guide, he makes the trip more than worth the journey." --Christianity Today
"This book is different. There are plenty of books on contemplation that feel rather tired--either wordy and labored or unhelpfully smooth and idealistic. But this is sharp, deep, with no cliches, no psychobabble and no short cuts. Its honesty is bracing, its vision utterly clear; it is a rare treasure."--Rowan Williams, The Archbishop of Canterbury
"Often they say 'you learn how to swim by swimming' but a good coach or swimming manual is essential. Equally, we could say 'you learn how to be contemplative by contemplating' and a good guide or mentor is necessary. Into the Silent Land is just that. I tried it and it works. Try it."--Archbishop Desmond Tutu, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize
"This is a beautifully written book. The language is profound, poetic, and free of worn cliches. It has obviously grown out of a life of study, erudition and personal prayer."--Worship
"Into the Silent Land is a beautiful and deeply consoling book, a reminder that prayer is both real and fundamentally simple. Not since Thomas Merton's Contemplative Prayer have I encountered a guide to contemplation this wise and compelling."--Douglas Burton-Christie, author of The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism
"With wisdom born of a life of prayer and study, Martin Laird invites us out of distraction and into the silent land where God is waiting. Taking the realities of affliction, fear and failure seriously, Laird offers an approach to contemplative life that is within reach of us all." --Stephanie Paulsell, author of Honoring the Body: Meditations on a Christian Practice
"Martin Laird's book is a compelling introduction to contemplative prayer. He draws on insights from the Eastern Orthodox tradition of the Jesus Prayer, from the Western Carmelite tradition, from poets and novelists and from his own experience as retreat director and confessor. In the silent land, our wounds become radiant sources of compassion."--Andrew Louth, author of The Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition: From Plato to Denys
"Into the Silent Land reflects a happy combination of wide learning, authentic spiritual experience, and clear jargon-free prose. This work should be of inestimable value for anyone interested in the Christian contemplative tradition of prayer."--Lawrence S. Cunningham, author of Thomas Merton and the Monastic Vision
Library Journal
Laird (religion, Villanova Univ.), a scholar of patristics and a much-published author, has written a rather unusual guide to Christian contemplation in which he urges us to look toward not God's voice but his silence. Laird hopes to persuade readers that it is not happiness or success that necessarily brings us closer to God's silence, but failure: "Our wound and the wound of God are the same wound," he writes. It is rare for Oxford to publish on the subject of personal spirituality of this sort, and the publisher's choice suggests the rare approach and quality of Laird's writing. Highly recommended. Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
The gift
02.24.08 (7:17 pm) [edit] | |
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The gift
We dine,
loved ones surround us,
many,
or perhaps just one,
candles,
special foods
exorbitant prices,
beautiful atmosphere,
the gentle quiet talking,
reaching across the table
touching the others hand,
toasting fine wines,
smiling,
laughing,
all given freely,
the meal is the gift of something passing,
yet
it will live on in memory,
for what better gift than a beautiful meal,
service,
money spent because of love.
The why of it all
02.24.08 (10:29 am) [edit] | |
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The why of it all
Al my life, I have wondered what it is all for. There is a certain absurdity about it all, the sameness, the running around in circles that often make up our lives. So much time taken up in what is in the end quite trivial yet must be done. Often what is important has to be put on the back burner as it where, sometimes kept there permanently. Getting caught up in what we are often told what is important, by parents, teachers, society, popular culture etc. Some of the ideals presented are very good, yet to follow them blindly can lead to a dead end for many.
I think it interesting that in our literature, theater and movies, one theme keeps coming up over and over again, a pointer of sorts, yet in real life it is often looked upon as either secondary, or as just a pursuit to be taken up if time is available. Perhaps we seek things to simply let others know that we are successful, or smart, yet when acquired it often seems empty and useless. I often wonder why happiness is often desired, yet the seeking after it can often lead to such suffering and despair. It can often be seen in the lives of others, yet the same mistake, or the same dead end path, taken by many, and even encouraged by our society.
I would think we need very little to make us happy, yet if we are not happy it may take a great deal to try to fill the void left open and gaping, like an existential wound, deep, dark and bleeding, yet hidden from the sight of others. Perhaps only the desperation showing a little of the pain involved but never fully communicated to others, so the pain is often hidden, misunderstood and condemned.
The inner void can be a cold dark place, and trying to fill it with warmth and light, if looked for in the wrong places, can lead to only more of the same, and for many in the end death. This can be played out in the public eye over and over again yet the lesson never learned, it is like looking at our own self destruction lived out in the lives of others, and copied out by those who perhaps should know better. Yet I should be careful, for I have the seeds within my own soul. I am after part of the culture I live in, immersed it, and struggling to become free of its control.
Perhaps it is the death instinct, the desire for what we also fear the most; the loss of our personal existence, yet also the coflicted desire for it (non-being), that often leads us down paths of self destruction in varying degrees. The rub however is that annihilation is not rest, it is just a ceasing, which I guess is absurd as well.
We have souls, something contested today by many, yet we have them, or perhaps we are them; souls, which need more substantial food that is offered by our often shallow society, in the form of entertainment that is often just a numbing agent used to dull the pain of existence. In the end however it can keep us from also experiencing the deep joy that can come with being in contact with ourselves, our souls. It is easy to give off pious answers, or to make a quote from one scripture or another, yet in the end, if it does not flow from the heart, all such answers are useless to say the least, and can be harmful in the worst circumstances.
We have to think for ourselves, not by a mindless reacting to our own traditions, but by a delving into them. To truly see what they have to offer, to break away from an unthinking cultural mind set which today does not work; there is just too much out there to take in. If we don’t have some sort of ‘place’ to stand from, the information taken in will only cause us to be tossed around like a bottle in a raging sea. There are a lot of fads out there, intellectual fashions that become popular, as well as religious ones, in the public eye for a time for a time, and then are gone. Often the traditions we grow up in have some deep truths to offer, yet they must be mined, sort after, digested and then lived out.
Anger against our past only chains us to it, imprisons is perhaps the better word. By the study of our own culture, religions and values, is the only way to be able to come to some sort of free decision about what path we want to follow, freely without rancor that keeps us chained.
We are educated, this has certain burdens that come with it, and only using our time for entertainment can only in the end lead to frustration, boredom, and an existence filled with horror, if one allows oneself to look inside without the tools to deal with what is found in an adequate manner.
We live in a world where life is short; we are truly flowers of the field, here today and gone tomorrow. This truth can either lead to greater freedom, or numb us with fear, perhaps unconscious, yet that is the worst kind, since its hold is stronger than fear that is known, for then one can come to some sort of decision to work against it or not.
We are called to deep life, yet it seems that our society in many ways wants to keep us from that. There is more to life than looking young and beautiful, or having lots of money, or simply being famous. The lives of those who have the above are often miserable; if their lives are not, it is because they have some deeper meaning that they live for.
We are here for a purpose, and it is the path of each to seek it. Also I experience myself being sought after, perhaps that is what the ‘running from’ is all about, seeking to hide from the pursuer, who wishes to unmask my falsehoods, so that I may have a deeper truer life. The deeper I go, the stronger the root that connects me with reality, the greater my sense of peace that cannot be taken away when life does not go my way; still working on that however. I suppose as I get older this happens more and more. I would think that I am not unique in this regard, though perhaps not all experience life this way and find what I have written disagreeable.
Allow my mind to rest
02.23.08 (7:26 pm) [edit] | |
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Allow my mind to rest
At times an inner pressure rises up from within
scattering me in bits and pieces over the cosmos,
unable to settle my mind becomes frantic
seeking rest in what only rubs sand into my wounds,
swirling going nowhere my emptiness deepens
often fighting what can only bring solace,
to once again allow my mind to rest
in the arms of the Eternal.
The whys
02.23.08 (9:38 am) [edit] | |
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The whys
I often get up tired in the AM,
sleep does not come the way it used to,
four hours then I am awake
with a pill perhaps six,
yet when I roll out of bed
I am happy,
it is good to be alive
for another day means hope
and showing kindness towards those I meet,
sometimes I fail
but when giving
I feel more alive
when gasping I feel imprisoned,
I wonder why that is
to want to help strangers,
to feel compassion for those I don't know;
just more why's,
I have more than enough of those
to keep me awake already
The whys
02.23.08 (9:37 am) [edit] | |
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The whys
I often get up tired in the AM,
sleep does not come the way it used to,
four hours then I am awake
with a pill perhaps six,
yet when I roll out of bed
I am happy,
it is good to be alive
for another day means hope
and showing kindness towards those I meet,
sometimes I fail
but when giving
I feel more alive
when gasping I feel imprisoned,
I wonder why that is
to want to help strangers,
to feel compassion for those I don't know;
just more why's,
I have more than enough of those
to keep me awake already
The in-between
02.22.08 (8:41 am) [edit]
The in-between
The place is very crowded,
People here for many different reasons,
Some seem happy talking laughing,
over their lunches and coffee.
Some pretending everything is ok,
Yet underneath knowing that soon,
Well just soon……&hell ip;.
Best not to speak of it,
Just enjoy this day.
Though it is strange
Being in the in-between,
Neither here nor there,
a no-man’s land,
lonely amidst the crowd
firmly planted in the here and now,
not even knowing of the in-between.
Life seems vaporous,
Colors at times overwhelming,
Knowing soon they will not be seen again,
Making them precious,
Not taken for granted
When passing them by.
At others things are grey,
They shimmer,
Blink in and out,
Well sort of;
As if they were about to disappear,
Moving into black.
Of course no one understands
Unless they are in this in-between place,
An area more temporary than the other,
For here the flower is uprooted
Just not yet wilted,
Dried up,
Dust in the wind;
soon very soon........
So they laugh,
Talk,
Are alone amidst it all,
Their hopelessness hidden,
Seeking to spare loved ones pain,
Though they long to speak of it,
Just no one ready,
yet,
perhaps never.
Yet something beckons them;
Small whispers heard,
Something of promise,
Giving hope
In a corner with no way to turn.
If trust is there
And faith allowed to take root,
Hoping against hope,
That after a hard life
Filled with sorrow,
Pain,
At times despair;
Yes along with joys as well;
Hopefully
That now as the boundaries dissolve,
There is something more than just endings,
Perhaps there is a new beginning
And the small whispers can be trusted
Over the other loud inner voices,
Saying no.
Yet one can say yes,
The door always open
Perhaps it never closes.
So amidst the noise,
Laughter,
Loud talking,
Much goes on hidden.
The human heart deep
Filled with secrets,
That perhaps only the soft quiet voice
Whispering hope,
Really sees and understands.
In the end we all must wait,
Our turn will come,
At least for most,
When the in-between becomes our world.
Cling
02.21.08 (7:48 pm) [edit]
Cling
Lord cling to me
Your grace the life,
The line that draws my soul
Into the deepest mystery of love,
A mystery that I will need an eternity
To understand,
Even then it will only be a beginning.
Early experiences
02.21.08 (2:49 pm) [edit] | |
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Early Experiences
Growing up in a big family has its ups and down, but overall I have no regrets about having so many brothers and sisters. Like most people I have had some early experiences that have made me deal with their outcome on my psyche, but in the end I can see, that over all it is for the best. It seems that our early experiences dictate in some way our spiritual path in life, what we have to deal with, the choices we make in order to face them or run from them, which of course makes us who we are, for good or ill.
Because of my experiences, especially the painful ones, I have had like everyone else, certain strengths and gifts that helped me to survive and grow, as well as also having to deal with the under side, moving back, and then going forward again, a dance of sorts I think. Two steps forward and three steps back, but in the end progress, though for many slow
I remember dreams that I have when very young, that probably started when I was about 4 years of age, maybe younger, but not sure. The dreams where for the most part ‘lucid’, I knew that I was dreaming, though I had no control over them, which changed for the most part when I got older. They pretty much started off the same. In the beginning there was music of some kind, then a green fog when come into the picture, then it would clear and I would find myself on a gravel path in the middle of a dark foggy forest, alone, afraid, knowing that something or someone was coming after me. I would have trouble running, all the while trying to force myself to wake up, for I could feel my eyelids trying to force themselves open. After awhile I would find my home, it was full of family, only adults; my mother, grandmother etc, and I would run to them for help, but all they would do is laugh at me, and I would then wake up with my covers all twisted up. Sometimes I would actually fall off of the bed.
One of the good things about having those kinds of dreams is that now I have the ability to remember them, and over my lifetime dreams have played an important part in many breakthroughs in my life. Without my early childhood experiences of my nightmares I may never have developed this ability or gift. By the way, the dreams, the nightmares, ended when I was 10 years old, after we moved out of the United States to go to Panama, Canal Zone. I think I understand why they ended, but won’t go into it here.
When young, say before I turned 12 or so, I was very quiet and withdrawn, and least compared to the way I am now. My inner world has always been very powerful, line that up with a very good imagination and you have someone who could probably spend their whole lives just looking inward, not a very healthy way to be, I would think.
What happened is that one day I overheard my brother tell my Mother after she questioned him about him not wanting to play we me, telling her that I was a weird. As I listened, not letting them know that I overheard what was said, I made a decision to act differently, since it was not working for me, the way I was; so I changed. Not sure how I would have turned out if I did not have a brother to allow this pivotal moment to happen for me. It was a very painful event, but in the long run a gift given to me by my brother, for being honest.
I joined the boy scouts, little league, and ROTC, though can’t say I enjoyed it, yet it helped me to become more outgoing. Also the simple wear and tear of relationships with my brothers, which at times where violent; well in the way it can be with brothers: we fought a lot, though we never really hurt one another….. and this was also a help. So yes being part of a large family, over all was good for me.
Being the third of 11 children, 10 still alive, one died at birth, has also been a boon in my life. I think growing up with lots of brothers and sisters gives one a heads up in understanding others, and also helps to have a more inclusive personality, one that finds it easier than perhaps most to accept others, and perhaps even to understand some when others can’t.
So I believe that the struggles we have when young leave wounds, but gifts are also developed that allow one to grow in a unique way. Of course some can’t deal with what happened, and that is part of the deep mystery of life. Perhaps their gift is to allow us to grow in understanding and compassion for them, instead of becoming harsh and judgmental; again well perhaps. Life in the end is a mystery, it is just I have chosen to believe big, that in the end despite it all, all things will really work out for the good. That is not the same as saying that I like the way the world is, but I am after all a part of it, helping or hindering it progress
Mild winter day
02.20.08 (6:50 pm) [edit] | |
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Mild winter day
The Sun today gentle,
soothing to the skin
unlike summer rays which I must hide from,
for its harshness makes my skin shy.
The sky dark blue,
cotton clouds race by above,
each unique in their sculptured beauty.
Down by the lake my favorite place,
very small
yet it gives me peace just to be there,
a familiar haunt,
and yes haunted
by past memories when young,
of swims,
dives,
splashes,
their echoes still heard in my inner ear.
The wind caresses the waters,
creating living art
soon gone,
perhaps the more beautiful
for it transients.
Long brown grass
gently bows with the wind
dancing like rockettes in union
with rhythm the wind creates.
I walk over and allow my hands to be touched
by the soft yellow growth upon the stalks,
a deep pleasure,
I love mild winter days so
John H.
02.18.08 (4:37 pm) [edit] | |
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John H.
John (not his real name) is a very immature adult, at least on an emotional level. In the 37 years that I have known him, 17 of those was spent in manifesting bullying behavior, to not only keep people at a distance, but also manipulate them through fear; which worked to his detriment as well as the community. Those in chare of him in the past feared him, and pretty much let him do what he wanted. The present administrator has also expressed his fear of John, though not to the extent of those in the past, and I have confidence that his love and concern for John will allow him to do what is necessary if it should come to that, in order to help him.
About 20 years ago, after he had a violent altercation with someone much older that he was, which could have ended badly for both, but did not; after the incident we talked. He was swaggering with what he thought was some kind of victory over an enemy, when in fact his enemy was a 90 year old man, with a severe personality disorder. The man was feeble, could barely walk, and very much overweight. He poured a large container of punch over his head, which soaked his robe; luckily the pitcher did not hit his head when it was poured.
The gist of conversation was this: I told him that his ability to control his anger was losing ground, and if he did not find some way to deal with it, he would one day have to be dealt with. I also notified him about the consequences he would have faced if he the man he attacked was hurt in some way; his latest victim of his anger and rage. He is, or was even more so 20 years ago, very free in voicing his extreme feelings, either positive or negative about someone. For he either loves or hates you, no middle ground allowed. However since therapy, though still operating, his reactions are somewhat less vitriolic, though still strong. I went on trying to get him to understand, how many have heard him say, in very strong language, how much he would “like to kill the bastard one day”. If his violence led to assault, he would either end up in prison or perhaps a mental institution. For he was truly out of control, there was no one to confront him that had any authority at that time, which was very frustrating for me, since a great deal of fear and suffering resulted from his behavior for more than a few, in the community.
He trusted me, so he took to heart what I had to say, and started therapy, and stayed with it for about 15 years, which did help. It was difficult for him, we met every week to talk, he would often cry, for his emotions run very deep and he is deeply wounded. As he child he had a cleft pallet, also from what he told me, his father rejected him, though he later found out through therapy it was unconscious. So he is better today, but I have to watch him closely here in the infirmary.
He now needs full time care, so he is in our infirmary which is small, and our main setting room is not big enough for all that goes on in there, so at times it can be noisy, chaotic, and very crowded. At times he will revert back, though it has not happened often, to his bullying behavior, which works on most people, for his voice is loud and strong, his face gets red and at times purple, eyes puff out, and he can at times throw things. Once he shoved Edmund (now deceased) away from him with some force. Edmund was frail and in a wheel chair, and was suffering from severe Alzheimer’s. He still has very strong antipathies towards some, usually but not always, towards those much weaker that he is.
He has the ability to feel compassion, but he tends to only allow himself for the most part, to feel for those far away. Often in the past spending hours weeping over the suffering of those in other parts of the world, while being very insensitive to the suffering of those around him, or his own role in some of that suffering. So I guess one aspect of his anger, thought not all of it, is to keep the pain of empathy at bay, for those with whom he lives closely with.
The nursing assistant who works the 3-11PM shift, as also notified me that John yells at her at times, which makes her nervous; this is the first time that I was notified about this. She only works on Saturday’s. This seems to be a further development in his possible reverting to his past behavior.
Yesterday he threw a stool across the room, which could have hit someone; Leo was close to where the stool landed. There was no external provocation from anyone; it seems he was having trouble moving the stool, and threw it out of frustration. I did approach him very strongly, and told him how that kind of behavior is not allowed, he pretended to ignore me, but I know he was listening. I used strong firm terms, for he understands that approach, otherwise it is looked upon as weakness, which encourages him to continue to act out. I hate doing this, talking to an adult, in his right mind, as if he is a child, or perhaps someone with dementia, but I don’t know what else to do.
I think I may need to sit in on some sessions with Ann Marie, for the reason she is coming is really his therapy; I have her come so that perhaps John would vent with her and off set what is in fact happening. Though it is infrequent it is slowly starting to manifest more than in the past.
I need to be careful how I react with John, for I can also give in to trying to force my will in difficult situations; yes I can bully also. I understand John, not completely of course, but our inner struggle with anger and fear and a loss of control, is something we share in common.
I will talk with him today and see how that goes.
Fourth day
02.17.08 (12:01 pm) [edit] | |
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The fourth day
What does it mean the fourth day?
Simply put, it is the rest of your life,
a metaphor of how each day, hour, moment,
is a new beginning for you.
Some here are fired up,
others perhaps feel nothing,
some anxious worried if they can follow through,
each unique in how they respond,
grow,
to God’s tender advances.
It is true for most,
there will be a going forward
and a moving back,
wandering off for awhile,
yet the call will always be there,
a new beginning for you,
for you are being pursued
by infinite love and mercy.
Many are praying for you,
even if you are not known personally,
you are loved and cherished,
for we are truly one in Christ,
who is closer to us than our skin,
bone,
our very faces.
Nothing you do,
nor how many times you fail
will cast you out of God’s love,
the real struggle is to simply keep getting up.
Some fall often,
a lot,
it does not matter,
however what does matter
is the not getting up,
despair is the struggle many face,
I have,
just get up,
the fourth day calls to a new beginning.
Embrace the community you are now part of,
great people,
human,
weak and fallible
yet they have your back,
pray for you,
love you,
and accept you.
Believe big not small,
open your hearts,
for no matter where life takes you,
the hills and valleys,
the joys and the sufferings,
the victories,
and failures deep,
know that the Father is already there waiting
with open arms,
running to welcome,
heal,
and forgive.
So believe big,
it will never be big enough
for God love is infinite
his compassion bottomless
his desire for you passionate.
(I wrote this for a Cursillo retreat going on at this time. While in prayer it came flowing through my mind so I wrote, don’t know if it will be used, doesn’t matter, glad that I wrote it. They call the day after the retreat the fourth day.)
Santa and the little girl
02.16.08 (7:30 pm) [edit] | |
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Just another trip to the Atlanta Airport,
as usual the plane would be an hour late,
so I went for coffee,
got a table and people watched,
something I love doing.
So many people,
going to so many places,
some rushing,
others dragging by ever so slowly
forcing others to rush by them,
military men and women,
people clapping for them as they march by,
and just a lot of noise,
commotion,
excitement,
so much life,
an ocean of it with its ebbs and tides,
planes dropping people off
coming into the main terminal
and then off again in their cars,
then another wave
and another.
As I sat in a daze of sorts
awash in the colorful display passing by,
I looked down to my left
at the next table
and saw a small child of about 4 years of age
solemnly looking up at me.
Hmmmmm I thought,
she thinks I am Santa Claus,
and Christmas is months away,
well for children perhaps everyday is Christmas.
So I looked up and see her parents watching,
smiling actually,
so I played along and made eye contact with her,
saying:
“so little girl have you been good this year(?)”,
her eyes got wider
and she very slowly nodded yes.
Meanwhile her parents where trying not to laugh,
though they were really loving the drama before them,
so again I take a sip of coffee,
smiled at her
saying:
“have you listened to your parents this year”.
Well
This time it took a little longer for her to answer,
she look down,
to the left
and to the right,
pressed her lips together
and nodded,
but not so strongly this time.
I took another sip of coffee,
looked back down
smiled
and said that I am sure she will do better
obeying her parents
and I will see her at Christmas.
The parents laughed,
clapped,
got their little girl
and rushed off;
I suppose to meet someone.
Got a cuppa
02.16.08 (10:06 am) [edit] | |
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Got a cuppa
Old, and bent over, was what I first noticed,
the elderly man with wrinkled skin,
walking slowly with his cane for support.
Sharply dressed in a shabby sort of way;
presenting to the world a quiet dignity.
As I had my coffee I observed his slow journey,
step by step he continued,
passed by the much younger crowd
that broke like the Red Sea around him,
ignored for the most part,
not in malice,
everyone is so busy and in a hurry,
he however just took his time.
He would look up and smile intermittently,
some would respond
others perhaps did not see him,
he did not seem to take offense,
perhaps he remembered his younger days
and now understands how the elderly perceived him
when he passed them by,
who knows perhaps he was busy with important errands
just like everyone else.
As he got to end of the long mall entrance,
he stopped at a coffee shop
got a cuppa
sat down and seemed to wait.
Then
From the other direction an elderly women,
also bent over,
with one difference,
she had a walker.
She too smiled at those who passed,
like him mostly ignored,
as we do each other often,
age has nothing to do with it,
it is just that both she and the man
had time to just look,
smile,
greet without excepting anything back.
When she arrived at last
for it was indeed a slow walk,
the man arose
bow a little before her,
picked up her hand and gently kissed it,
she blushed like a young girl,
put her little wrinkled hand to her lips
and sat down.
They seemed young then,
sitting,
talking in low voices to one another,
beaming,
friends or perhaps in love,
maybe even lovers,
it does not matter
for they had each other.
I paid for my coffee and left
but as I did I walked by,
stopped,
greeted them,
said how lovely the lady looked
and again she blushed and smiled,
however I did not kiss her hand,
for she was already taken.
As I walked to my car
I felt a spring in my step,
a lightness of being,
and yes
not matter what age
it is good to be alive.
Forgetfulness
02.16.08 (8:51 am) [edit] | |
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Forgetfulness
Often when I pray, or read scriptures and also when I meditate, I often forget or perhaps the better word or statement is:
“I get careless about the Presence before and within me, relating back”.
It seems strange but that is the truth. I would suppose that is one reason, though I am sure there are others, that I often do so poorly when alone with the Lord. I would think some forms of spiritual dryness are the bitter fruit from this state of affairs, leading to inconsistency, avoidance, running from something lifeless, when in fact that is where life is found.
I am human; at times careless, at others sinful and also often filled with ignorance. It is when the reality hits home about the above, that I am called to wake up. It is not a time to run, but to allow grace, love and healing which is God’s pure gift to work within me. For without grace my soul is an inner desert filled with an artic chill, blinded by the sand of my own carelessness and yes sloth.
Yet I am pursued, we all are.
O Lord cling to us all!
Old woman
02.15.08 (7:19 pm) [edit] | |
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Old woman
She smiles and chats
as she passes by,
a graceful glide around the tables,
then she sits alone to eat.
She wears a purple sweater
decorated with black strips,
her face gentle,
wise,
with a small wistful smile.
She wears like a cloak
a gentle quiet dignity
that gently en-wraps
her in its warmth.
Her inner world
deep and hidden,
perhaps a mystery even to herself,
waiting for the time
when all will be made known.
She soon finishes,
leaves her table neat,
thoughtful of those who will follow,
and she is gone
forever out of my life.
Rampage
02.15.08 (6:33 pm) [edit] | |
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Rampage
I often wonder at the why,
but not shocked by the act
when someone flips,
rampages,
kills and maims others.
For rage
dammed up over time
when released,
destruction
and often death follows.
Mental illness,
isolation,
add to the mix,
the innocent often victims
when the time of harvest comes.
So much pain for these left behind,
the wounded,
perhaps scarred,
haunted for life,
at innocence torn away
about the true nature of our existence.
Family members,
friends
left with a void within,
bottomless and cold;
no goodbyes,
gone forever,
loved ones
their smiles and laughter no more.
Are there answerer's to such sorrow?
Well there are,
they give little comfort,
even faith for a time perhaps lost,
yet,
is not rage also a prayer,
the loss,
cursing God,
perhaps the deepest form of prayer,
to be ones true self
in the presence of the Divine.
Soul's memory
02.15.08 (8:27 am) [edit] | |
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Soul’s memory
Its memory long and deep,
remembrance of things past
abuses done when it was innocent;
physical, mental, sexual,
actions also committed the cycle continued,
in a dark inner room hidden
shivering in its dread
of pain received
and agony delivered
awaiting it’s judgment feared.
Crying out in its pain
not understanding the why of it all,
writhing in its fetal position
the soul lay dying
in its hell of cold isolation.
Once more calling out,
the presence came in gentle light probing,
slowly growing stronger so as not to frighten
the shattered soul lying before Its loving gaze;
the soul amazed responded
as the love slowly spread
the shivering abated allowing tears to flow,
its wailing heard throughout the inner worlds
as Love did it’s gentle but painful work.
Each event brought to light,
both as victim
and the one who created them,
it all its raw reality to be faced and embraced,
to say yes to what happened,
in sorrow to what it had done,
the fire of love’s purgatory cleansing the shame,
burning away the pain,
the fire healing its wounds
to bring it soul to fruition.
In a burst of gratitude and joy
it understood
that in its darkest moments of pain,
degradation,
the light was there seeking to heal,
suffering with it's life’s long journey,
and yes the agony of those afflicted
by the souls own sordid path,
making all things to work for the good
when all given over to mercies mystery
when in love responding to the Presence.
The light that fills the world
and walked among us,
seeks us all,
for God is kind to both the grateful and the wicked.
In knowing all,
the hearts deepest secrets
mercy is offered
to those in pain, shame, degradation.
The light came to save not to condemn,
it is the human heart that seeks pain for its enemies,
punishment to those who are considered evil.
In God only mercy offered,
for in showing mercy we open ourselves to mercy,
for what we see in others
a reflection of our state,
God is our judge,
we are called to judge no one.
Chagrin
02.14.08 (8:11 am) [edit]
Oh beloved Lord
how hidden you are,
yet in you we have our being;
the breath we take
the air breathed in,
is your gift
We are surrounded by beauty Lord,
nature can be intoxicating;
color,
the sound of wind,
warmth given us by the sun,
and yes dark clouds with its storms
giving relief to a thirsty earth
are works of art
that stir our hearts deeply;
sometimes with wonder at its artistry,
at others
with fear at violence terrible,
destruction deep,
yes we also live in the mystery,
the why’s often going unanswered
causing chagrin
and anger among many.
In trust I go forward,
there are no promises that I will not suffer
nor my loved ones,
for all in the end die,
some by violence
others by disease
the lucky few peacefully in sleep,
yes all must pass through that dark door.
Lord you are with us in our journey,
our sufferings are yours,
the evil we do to ourselves
and yes to others
become your wounds,
with us you drink the chalice
filled with the wine of our anguish,
one with us,
seeking only to heal us
for by your strips we are healed.
Infinite love is incomprehensible,
it’s motives buried deep in the mystery of existence,
like children we stumble,
wail,
curse you because of our littleness,
for we are young,
seeking to understand what in the end
is something perhaps we will never comprehend,
yet spending an eternity discovering.
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I don’t kid myself
There is a saying, though who originally said it I have no idea. The saying goes like this:
“Human justice is without mercy.”
I believe there is more than a grain of truth to this, mostly from experiencing this within my own heart. It is easy for me to condemn, it is almost instinctive and the power in which it is felt can at times frighten me. Thinking in terms of justice, when it is revenge that I really seek, best served cold as they say. It does not have to have anything to do with me; it can be a news item, something I read about, ore even better, when watching a movie. So yes, revenge, mercy, no. I am often disappointed when someone does not get “what is coming to them”. It seems to be a very primitive aspect of my inner life, probably fed from the deep dark pool of my past experiences, at least partly; the rest is just my humanity. Perhaps in the past it was needed, but this tendency seems to have outlived it usefulness for the most part.
Over the years, I have learned not to trust my first reactions towards something that I feel is an injustice, either done to me, or to another. Justice sought in anger is often ineffective, though anger in itself is a very good emotion if used probably. It gives one the energy and will to right a wrong and the fortitude to see it through. Justice brings balance; revenge just allows things to fall into further chaos. It is difficult being human, being just and fair makes it even harder, yet in the long run it makes life run more smoothly, both on an individual and communal level.
I don’t kid myself, nor can I place myself above those who fall into revenges trap, it is easy, and seems right at the time. Just read the papers, it never works. Tit for tat, hit for hit, slap for slap, then death for a wound, until the innocent fair targets to make a point. No I could also fall into that, and I pray that I will never be put in a situation where I do not seek God’s grace, mercy and healing before I act.
How they grow
02.12.08 (5:13 pm) [edit] | |
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How they grow
It is truly wondrous to set and listen to others,
their struggles
pain,
how they grow,
faith deeply rooted,
yet unconscious of how close they are to God,
how courageous their heart,
how unfathomable their love of others,
and over time
how they come also to wonder
and accept
that they are loved by the Infinite
How they grow
02.12.08 (5:07 pm) [edit] | |
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How they grow
It is truly wondrous to set and listen to others,
their struggles
pain,
how they grow,
faith deeply rooted,
yet unconscious of how close they are to God,
how courageous their heart,
how unfathomable their love of others,
and over time
how they come also to wonder
and accept
that they are loved by the Infinite
Silence
02.11.08 (6:11 pm) [edit] | |
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Silence
Sitting in silence
there is only love calling,
grace healing,
there is nothing that can block loves flow,
relationship is what it is,
steady,
true,
faithful.
auto pilot
02.11.08 (11:05 am) [edit] | |
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auto pilot
In the quiet when the mind is at rest,
when the body seems to sleep though very alert
heavey in it peacefulness,
it is then after the inner voices are silenced
that truth can at least be precieved.
Our thoughts are often tapes,
auto pilot obsession,
yammering all the day long
with images created to give it more force,
yet in the end when stopped
they show inner wounds that need to be healed,
then the mirrors of the outer world
will lose their power to dismay.
What
02.10.08 (6:59 pm) [edit]
What
When I was two years old,
it was the now,
each age is lived in that place:
young,
old,
also that which is in the middle
are all in that point called the moment,
when we come to the space
when we end,
it is the same,
so length of life,
when we die,
it is truly now,
so perhaps when and where
matter not,
but the “what” does,
for in this dimension filled with life,
we are called,
the “what” is our response.
Cage
02.10.08 (10:24 am) [edit] | |
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Cage
Fear can be a terrible cage,
it walls high built to protect from life,
from the experience of simple existence,
the pain and pleasure,
connecting and being flung aside,
the wounds that need healing
also the love that does in the in the end heal,
each is a part of the adventure,
aging,
being alone,
learning solitude in the end,
communion with something though I often don't know what,
yet there it is,
so live,
go towards fear,
for better to let some walls come down,
to breathe easier,
and yes to learn to simply deal with the pain
agony
and ecstasy of life,
we are made to be free
Solitude
02.10.08 (8:33 am) [edit] | |
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Solitude
Solitude is experienced differently than simply being alone, or feeling lonely, or of course isolation, which is I suppose the opposite of solitude. The ability to be alone before God, to simply be in the Eternals presence has to be grown into, a slow movement into the depths of the mystery of existence. Boredom often keeps some from solitude, I know it does me at times, though as I get older this seems to be lessening. Below the feeling of deadness that can come from being alone, lies for many, and also for me, anxiety. The fear perhaps of being seen, or known by the other. So ‘projects’ are sought after, good in themselves, but in the end, a way to simply not allow God’s gaze to rest on our inmost being.
I have learned that no matter what has to be faced, dealt with, named, etc., God is already waiting there for us, and when that happens a feeling of arriving home can surface, where the whole texture of reality changes and one is at peace.
So patients is needed towards oneself when trying to enter more deeply into solitude. Also, each will experience it differently, the ebb and flow of that ability will change, but we always move forward, if our hearts desire is to grow in our love and trust in God.
In awe
02.09.08 (7:32 pm) [edit]
In awe
She called me early in the morning, asking if we could talk,
she is a very good friend, so I had no problem setting a time;
I arrived on time, we got coffee, sat down, and she began to speak.
She has a very good friend, a generation older, a very good man,
they are close, both friends, also he is like a father to her
and she like a daughter to him, so the relationship is rich and rewarding,
healing for both.
He is ill and she is worried about his health, which of course is worsening,
so death will not be long in coming, perhaps months, but in a few short years,
of that there is no doubt.
He worries about her, being alone, working too hard, she has health problems also,
so he can lose sleep in his concern for her. As she talked about him, his health,
his mental state, for he is afraid that he is becoming senile, and shares that with her.
She cries easily and when crying she seemed like a young girl, crying over being left,
I guess abandoned, a common experience for small children, perhaps we all have at,
just in different degrees.
Her life has not been easy, yet she overcomes, but has no idea how good and strong
she is, nor how well she has done, how deep her faith in God has matured, nor perhaps how remarkable her healing. For she has never become bitter, but always faced her fears, slowly growing in her trust in God; Which in the beginning she had trouble with but has grown into a deep abiding faith.
Her friend is starting to talk about death, how he is at peace about it; he is a peace with God. He also told her about an experience he had. He does not remember his dreams, yet when he was at the clinic, he said that he seemed to leave his body, this scared her. So we talked, and I said; “you know he does not dream, so an experience like that, for him is profound, perhaps it is a way God is preparing him for death”? I asked her to please pray, write, and prepare herself for his death, also for the abandonment issues she has with her own father. For I told her; when you were talking, you face took on the aspect of a five or six year old girl”. You will have to face this when your dear friend dies.
“When I started my conscious search for God”, she told me, “I would have this picture of God,
holding out his hand, saying trust me, and I would say no, over and over again, then slowly I
began to trust”. It is a beautiful story, one of growth and life, yet the journey hard,
for God journeys with us, helps us, yet we must drink our own chalice to the bottom,
such a mystery is suffering.
As I listened, I realized that she has no idea how far along she is, how close she is to God.
People have funny ideas about what it means to be holy, when in fact, it is the ability to face life,
the courage to move forward, when one is fully alive that holiness flowers, for in Him we move and have our being, yes God is life itself. Yes she is holy and I am in awe of her and she has no idea how blessed she is, well perhaps she does.
Jealous lover
02.09.08 (1:43 pm) [edit] | |
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Jealous lover
They looked at one another
desire in both their eyes,
also fear
buried deep
seeking to find a way to escape,
so they stood
in their pain,
allowed the wound to dictate
as so often happens;
the walls did not come down
the door stayed locked
for fear is a jealous lover,
they each went their way.
Swallowed
02.09.08 (9:13 am) [edit]
Swallowed
Its all me,
that is the hard learned lesson slowly coming to light,
my reactions and sufferings are my own,
the world I live in flows from my deep subjectivity
making my desire to be objective impossible
though it is not a fool’s errand to try.
I am often swallowed,
devoured like Jonah,
the belly of the whale being my own inner chaotic world
often imprisoned for three days or perhaps more
in a place of unrest and inner chaos,
seeking to place blame
or find a cause outside of my own inner wanderings.
Submerged deep in the dark realms of the unconscious
I seek footing that is not there,
calling out for grace and help
which comes when the course has finished its run.
When I surface from the inner depths
my mind and clarity returns,
perhaps something learned,
or not;
the way is slow and ponderous.
God is compassionate towards me,
I am not,
perhaps that is the lesson needs learning;
love and compassion,
forgiveness,
needs to start with myself,
the rest will flow from that awareness.
God is love
therefore God is found in human love,
also in love of self
for me the hardest thing of all.
Until then my own self hatred
my self denigration,
will swallow me until I am digested,
and this false judging cruel self
is no more,
who will be there
when this “I” is no more.
Infinite embrace
02.08.08 (5:51 pm) [edit] | |
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Infinite embrace
Love is love after all
and when it is something infinite,
unending,
what does that mean?
Our fears are our own,
what is needed is trust,
for freedom comes with that knowledge
that love is freely given,
like mercy;
merit has nothing to do with it.
When that lesson learned
then we fly
we do not cringe,
for truly we are called to something wondrous
beyond comprehension.
Yes I know it is too good to be true,
or least our fear tells us so,
yet,
are we not made for love
for the ecstasy of simply being free
weightless
in the infinite embrace?
so much the same
02.08.08 (10:13 am) [edit]
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so much the same
each different
yet so much the same,
our paths diverge
yet they came back again,
compassion is learned from struggle,
so we seek to lighten the load
of those in pain.
Enigma
02.08.08 (10:02 am) [edit] | |
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Enigma
I am such an enigma when trying to understand who I am and why I react the way I do. I often find myself being very harsh towards others, at least in my heart. At the same time I am aware that I either do the same thing, or perhaps something worse in my everyday life; yet I seek mercy for myself and at times show none to others. My heart is often closed to those around me, becoming impatient with them, while at the same time almost demanding others be patient with my own humanity. How fragile I am, how easily upset, how unmerciful I can become.
Yet I seek God's mercy.
Bill showed me how to make a list of