One drop
04.30.08 (4:08 pm) [edit] |  |
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one drop
Love is the water we thirst for
one drop will enliven our inner desert,
dry sands soaking with life,
allowing growth to where once there was only sand.
Without it men and women go mad,
or worse simply dry up,
not knowing what it is they miss,
happy with ashes that a loveless life offers.
Love the genus
there are many species,
friendship,
marriages with children,
reaching our to others in need,
taking care of oneself,
all are love,
each gives life its color,
spice,
salt and pepper
giving flavor to all that is,
allowing the lover to see the beauty of those around it,
for broader yet
is love of animals, plants, the sun and more,
perceiving the divine
in all things
existing.
Deep memory
04.30.08 (9:09 am) [edit]
Deep memory
The man looked at me silently for a time, just thinking over what I asked him. finally he sighed, looked down at his old worn hands, cracked his knuckles, and said, “are you sure you want to hear what I have to say”, for it is not all goodness and light,
it seems that even in this event, you can’t have one without the other.
So he began
I have told this many times, some believe, others not, for what we believe, no matter what it is, limits us, puts up barriers, and will block out acceptance of truths not agreed upon. I am no different he continued, my experience has just made my beliefs perhaps a little broader than most.
Some people think death the end, a sort of endless sleep, with a do not disturb sign outside the door.
Others
Well they think there is an endless return with perhaps some time off in between life times, some don’t believe this at all, you just come back at once, over and over gain, for myself he said,
I am not sure which is worse; endless sleep without dreams, or the constant coming and going with no rest at all……..Just one lifetime after another.
Still
Many think it is either heaven or hell, no middle ground, with most going to hell, something he said that I thought kind of strange. Hell full, heaven almost empty, could never quite get my mind around that…….so in the end I did not know what happens after death, really not sure now, except for perhaps what happens right after the body drops like mine did.
When I died he continued
I was surprised, it seemed no different the first few moments, I was still me, could not get over it. Then it started, memories I thought gone, forgotten, but there they were, in all of their glory and pain, the good, the bad and yes the ugly. Nothing left out; I got away with nothing, for I was not al good man. I was cruel to my wife, my children, to those who worked under me; I even did some illegal things that I thought I got away with. For I never thought about what happens after death, I just thought it was the end, or at least I lived like it was. I also thought over all I was a good man, for I went to church, gave to charity, and did other things I thought I was supposed to do just to look good in front of my neighbors. For my family knew better than to tell anyone what went on in the privacy of our home.
Ever pain I caused, I felt, every blow I let fall on another, in the end it was me I hit. The pain of my wife I experienced, the emotional harm I did to my children, became mine, those I hurt with my illegal doings came back upon me, pain upon pain. Suffering was what my soul downed in, I screamed, thought I was in hell, wept over what I did, the suffering was indescribable. I curled into a fetal position, trying to escape my life but could not. There was some good, but it was so little that it did little to take away from my self inflicted wounds.
People to me where card board cutouts, not real, just there for me to use, abuse at will; in the end playthings, toys, not real like I was. What I fool I became, created, for what I did to them, truly I did to my self. From this pit of pain, I heard this voice, a voice I did not even care to know when alive. In the end, my soul beat and bloodied from my own actions, an endless round of abuse of others, that in the end was self abuse; lying there, waiting for what I did not know……the voice spoke, gently, lovingly, I could not believe it.
“Father, forgive him, for he did not know what he was doing”.
Looking up I saw a light, you would not understand what I experienced,
there are no words,
love I never thought possible I was filled with, understanding beyond comprehension, of my own deep failures…… compassion, yes even empathy, for the being seemed to have been with me all of my long life of doing harm to others.
I woke up then in the hospital, a different man than what I was that morning I got up to go to work, a new being in fact. For the pain I experienced made me see others in a different light. After that my life changed, I had a lot to do, many people to see, I sought forgiveness from those I hurt, an army, I had no idea. I received mercy from many, from others no. My children still hate me, but I can only hope that one day that will change. For I understand them, I helped create them, so much of my pain still remains. The soul’s memory is absolute, we get away with nothing, until we learn, and if we don’t, well perhaps that is hell, I do not know.
He then looked down, but when he again faced me, he was smiling and said. I embrace my pain, and seek now only to love others, and yes I fail, but people are no longer cut outs for me, but in reality beings of great worth. So yes the world I live in is different now, and I will continue to grow in love of that being who forgave me, because I did not know what I was doing.
So I left the old man, wondering in what I have heard. For reading about such experiences is different when actually sitting and listening to what was experienced. It gave me hope, for myself and others, that much of what we do is based on not really understanding who the other person before us is; be it a stranger or someone we love or hate.
I need to look deeper.
Until the end
04.29.08 (8:58 am) [edit] | |
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Until the end
Leo has the same disease as William, yet both show it in different ways;
no two people manifest the same behaviors when in Alzheimer’s dark, cold, embrace,
some become very pointed, angry, rough, loud, very feisty, in how they relate,
others like Leo sort of fade, talk in a gentle voice, have some bad days,
but even then they can be calmed down easily and do not strike out,
or if they do, it is not as forceful as others.
He sits and stared, returns a smile when given, also will attempt to answer questions,
though for the most part he will mumble. In the mornings at times, for a very short interval,
he can speak in truncated sentences, but this soon passes.
No one knows how much he really understands, though there is the attempt,
the strong desire, to communicate, so he does struggle;
though now that his disease has progressed, most days he does not know he mumbles,
hopefully he thinks he is really talking, and we respond the best way we can.
We put on TV for him. Tuner classic movies (TCM), at times help keep his attention,
there are no commercials, which is a bonus, for they often cause some agitation,
for they play, and jump from scene to scene in rapid succession,
leading to some confusion, and perhaps getting very restless.
At times he gets antsy in his chair, shaking his table that fits over the arms,
so I get him up and walk him around for awhile,
when he starts to act fatigued I take him back and he sits down relaxed,
thankful for the expenditure of energy.
He eats well, but lately certain foods keep coming back up,
certain types of fish, perhaps others foods that are greasy, we are watching,
worried that one day if this happens in his sleep
he could aspirate, which could lead to death, so we deep a close eye on him.
At times, he does not understand when and why, we clean him,
but so far we can get through to him the reasons in what we are doing and he calms down,
so far,
don’t know what will happen if one day we can’t get though,
I think cleaning is probably one of the greatest crosses for the ill,
getting cleaned six to eight times a day can be wearing,
having sleep interrupted every night, very unpleasant to say the least,
yet it has to be done,
so hopefully he will always be able to be reached,
but I doubt it, for his disease is progressing, and he continues to fade,
so understanding will one day be gone, and only his instincts will be there,
which will lash out at any threat,
cleaning will be considered a threat then, so another William will be born,
however we will continue to take care of him,
until the end.
hollow
04.28.08 (11:50 am) [edit] | |
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hollow
you ask me why our friendship ended;
how (?)
for you seemed content,
yet I
found you hollow,
a gaping inwardness,
hungry,
grasping for existence though another,
any other,
that is not friendship,
or love I think of any kind.
for hunger only devours,
it does not give,
it can by its nature only take
leaving the other empty,
formless,
while the taker grows only stronger,
such is evil,
in the end and illusion,
for you become alone again,
your addiction your only solace,
as you look for another
to feed upon
yet again,
I wonder if you will ever learn,
for myself,
it does not concern me.
empty
04.28.08 (11:12 am) [edit] | |
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empty
our days
an endless round it seems at times
doing it all over and over again,
so absurd,
so much to do that is worthless,
so many items desired that are useless.
empty time
cloying in its seeming unending nothingness,
yet all too conscious of the void
the inner bleakness without bottom or ending,
seeking to escape,
yet death is not the answer
for perhaps
it is not the end,
not always a comforting thought
when weighed down by weariness
and the simple desire
to cease.
Yet this passes,
life is good,
existence our valued gift
I just take it for granted I think,
like a spoiled child,
lacking understanding of what really is,
for life once gone,
it is gone.
Easy to say
04.28.08 (8:50 am) [edit] | |
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Wise words flow freely from the tongue,
like honey,
smooth sounding,
profound,
yet
in the end,
it can be BS,
for nothing is easier than talking on how life ought to be lived,
yet
in the doing is the trick,
for wisdom evaporates in the mundane of everyday,
mindfulness scattered,
too busy just surviving to think about such things,
so much to do,
so little time,
for much that in the end is not even important…… .
Self interest not always bad,
though at times it can cause great harm,
like drunken capitalism
with no thought for others
or in any kind of real future,
for to lack presence is to seek and cling
to what one is not present to,
while being in the now allows one to let go,
though again,
easy to say,
hard to do,
perhaps even impossible
most of the time.
What are we to do?
Perhaps
in the end we simply can’t.
Or
It is only my own struggles I am talking about.
Forest green
04.27.08 (7:15 pm) [edit] | |
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Forest green
A quiet walk to calm the mind,
the gentle wind caressing the perspiring skin,
the sound of life hidden in the woods,
birds flying,
insects humming and dashing though the air,
the sun and then the shade,
the play of colors,
forest greens
mixed with the color of wild flowers
growing near the gently flowing stream,
so much to soothe and quiet a restless consciousness;
late spring,
before the heat blessed rain,
cool mornings,
and yes evenings also,
I so love spring
or
early summer.
Chanting prayer
04.27.08 (9:52 am) [edit] | |
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Chanting prayer
It was one of those mornings with William, a common event, yet not everyday,
so when it happens it is always somewhat of a surprise, though not a big one.
He wakes up, and gives me and whomever else is helping; for it takes two clean him,a certain look, a WTF look, wary, cunning, fearful, trying to figure what is going on,yet failing, so he becomes very angry, screaming, trying to get us away from him,yet of course we can’t, like so many times before, it simply has to be done.
Quite a lot to do this good morning, a lot to clean, scrub, you know the usual,
though some morning can be a little busier than others, this was one of them.
So, we both take a deep breath and try to get it done as gently and as quickly as possible, though it is not easy by any measurement.Taking off night clothes, cleaning his skin, putting on medicines, and lotions, takes a lot of time an energy, though this morning he did not try to bite or kick; just screaming. He told me lots of things about myself, I won’t go into it here,so I just agreed with him; this stopped him for about six seconds,then he started up again.
He has a lot of energy when angry, of course it is based on fear, he thinks,
falsely of course, yet true in his world, that we are trying to hurt him,
so he tries to defend himself the best way he can,by throwing lots of verbal abuse, and some mornings physical.
We sometimes laugh, not of mockery, but just to get rid of the stress,for some days are more difficult than others in dealing with thisGod awful disease that reduces people to that state that William is in,so laughter is one way of getting rid of the inner angst, that perhaps most care givers feel from time to time, it is impossible to get away from,it is perhaps there when not even averted to, it just waits for the time,then lo it is there, it all of its gut wrenching sorrow, not often felt until later,when the quiet allows it to arise.
So I told Bernie I would sit with him for awhile, while she got breakfast for the others,I took him down to the little chapel as is my practice with him of late,
I tried to pray the rosary with him, but this time it did not work,he was just to lost in his inner world of fear and anger at what we did to him.So I sat and waited and watched with him. He says some very interesting thing when I listen,much of it a poem of sorts, and yes he still chants from time to time,haunting in its beauty, it touches my soul deeply as if he is crying for all of mankind,yes all I can do is listen to him, be with him, but not much else,
sometimes there is only so much that can be done, then all you can do is just be with him.
This is some of the things he was chanting this morning:
“come down, come down,
you hurt me,
you help me,
come down, come down,
get me out of here
please why do they do what they do,
come down, come down,
get me out of here.
my belly hurts
where am I
come down, come down,
get me out of here
why won’t you help me?"
It resembles a song of sorts, also a psalm, a prayer, that I could certainly understand,
so I just sat and waited and watched with him, for that is all I could do.I don’t know why I love this kind of thing, perhaps it is because this is one of the only worthwhile things I can think of doing. All else for me is just taking care of myself,so guess this gets me out side of myself, perhaps I get more out of this than what I put in,something I think about often, ponder, in end I don’t know,for there is much I don’t understand, and as I get older,have come to the realization, that is ok.
Further seeking
04.26.08 (8:29 am) [edit]
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Further seeking
Growing older for all of its drawbacks which I suppose are many, are in the long run worth it. For with age comes experience, much of it painful, all of it useful, if something taken or learned from the many experiences that life offers us. Life is after all a journey, which is what being a pilgrim means, we are on a road going somewhere, which is good news, the bad news is what we all must go through in order to arrive. Yes for all of us, the rich, poor, the beautiful and not so attractive, the intelligent and those less so……in the end, simply must live life; which cannot be escaped, though perhaps it is tried, with often disastrous results.
What is our purpose? Is it to get rich, or to become powerful, to always look young and beautiful, or perhaps handsome, to be always on top, ruling it over others? If you watch TV a lot, the answer is of course yes. In actually living however the answer is probably no to the above, because when such things are achieved, there is often something deeper that rises to the surface. This can lead to further seeking, or to a mindless diving further in to the illusion of false expectations that our desires promise us. Until we are free, for most a life time endeavor, at least it is for me, I guess we are slaves. Chained, imprisoned in cells, some larger than others, others more comfortable, yet in the end, they are the same; cells.
We can spend life running in circles, going nowhere fast, or perhaps start moving to that point that we are all traveling towards, the dark doorway, death, our end, at least as far as this world goes, in a conscious manner. To see our end can cause a re-evaluation of our lives, to see what is truly important, and what is secondary or perhaps even lower on our ladder of what is truly important.
Today many believe in nothing beyond this world, so they must find these values within a certain time frame, yet it is important for them, as well as for those who believe that we have continued existence after this life. We are made for meaning, we crave it, seek it, dig deep for it. If not then our lives could be spent in running from the reality of our own temporality, in a word death. Perhaps much of what is wrong in the world is the not facing up to such a reality.
I am just starting to understand, after all these years that life is about something. We are sought after, loved, valued more than we can ever imagine by the transcendent, by God, as a Christian it is Christ Jesus who reveals that reality to me. I think we are made for just that, love, all the rest is window dressing, perhaps seeking love, or making up for the lack of it in our lives. We live in a short lived universe, our lives over in a flash. All one has to do is to go over their lives, and see how fast the years pile up, how rapidly each of us moves to the head of the line, the generation before us quickly moving on to whatever awaits us.This can be freeing or something that can fill one with terror, perhaps both, for we are complex creatures and can have more than one emotion or feeling about things. Lately I have been struck by the phrase “flowers of the field’, for that is in fact what we are, best to embrace that and get on with our lives.
Yes love is what we seek. Our movies, books, music drowns in this, the seeking after that which gives life it meaning, color, depth. People die when it is missing, destroy themselves when lost, yes no amount of wealth, beauty, or pleasure can takes it’s place, though in trying things can get both desperate and self destructive. God is love, we are made in God’s image, so yes, we seek love, it is our nature, our destiny, what we long and hope for. All else while important is nothing compared to this.
Aubrey
04.25.08 (4:11 pm) [edit] | |
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Aubrey
It can almost drive one mad at times, so many needing help,
sadly not able to assist,
many out of work, rent due, food needed, yet help is difficult to find.
Today met someone who needed help.
Her name was Aubrey;
her rent was due, no food, and a child who was 13 years old.
I did what I could, not much, and we just talked.
In the end when she was leaving, I said: “I will pray for you”,
such a hollow sounding phrase,
yet I meant it……for there are so many.
I gave her one of my wrist knotted ropes,
a reminder of my concern
and prayers.
She has friends, for one drove her out to see me;
she was a very good women,
she ran from her first home with her son,
away from her husband who beat her, so at least she got away,
yet now she struggles like many, many others.
A situation so archetypal that it could be seen as ordinary,
yet when face to face with the reality
the uniqueness of each stands out
in deep color.
Burdens heavy we all have, yet I was perhaps able to help a little,
though not as much as I wanted to,
yet God is with her, she is on a journey, a loving mother,
weighed down true, but in her eyes I saw she was determined to go on,
not a quitter,
a deep soul filled with love for her child.
In the end, is it not love, and its fruit
that keeps us going,
taking one step in faith after another?
Stacked illusions
04.25.08 (8:17 am) [edit]
Stacked illusions
We so to cling to permanence, to fool ourselves that some things actually last, when it fact all that we see only gives the illusion of such. Cultures rise and fall, great empires once powerful are now dust, schools of thought once followed by many, now only ignored tomes, dusty, resting in esoteric libraries, read if at all, only by a few. So it is, we all know it, though often not averted to, pondered over, or few lessons if any learned from this sober truth. Hard to think that our own culture, or cultures, for there are many today, will also one day be just another foot note in some history book, of course, if there are history books. No matter how many centuries old, nor how powerful, nor learned, it will one day all be gone. Perhaps by culture revolutions, either peaceful or not, or by some fluke of nature, or just wearing out, all will one day end. Perhaps turning into something else, or just stopping, its cities once alive becoming ruins, perhaps to be studied thousands of years in the future by some other culture that too will one day end.
Our years speed by, youth soon gone, suddenly we find ourselves at an age that we perhaps in our youthful folly, thought impossible that we would ever reach. Yet, even if 90, perhaps the time seems but a few days, for time has a habit of folding in on itself, as if no time has really passed at all. One memory from the distant past, and the now, nothing in between; like the speed of light can our past be experienced. If something perhaps experienced at all, time that is, it is as a blur, for most of our days are lost in oblivion, perhaps never to be retrieved again. Our days swift, filled with pain, sorrow, and yes some joy and happiness. We have loved ones, yet one by one they quickly move off stage, and over the years our loneliness increases, as the number of those loved, lost, expand faster as each year speeds by, and our inner hollowness seems to grow.
Perhaps this is a good thing, the rapidity of time, soon over, for perhaps we do move on to something else. Mayhap the gloom and despair that can at times come with darker thoughts about life are also an illusion, perhaps something deeper is going on that is often lost because of the intensity of our lives as experienced on a day by day basis. Perhaps this is the way it should be. To live, struggle, and yet keep faith, or not, we all have many choices. I choose faith, God, even though at times faith in God can seem absurd, yet to not to believe is even more absurd. For to believe in creation without a creator seems the most irrational thing of all, of course that is just me.
Love is the rain that makes our desert blossom, faith is the light, even if dim that lead us down life’s often dark road, community is what often heals our deep wounds, for we are each God’s hands and arms in a world often experienced as cold and loveless.
But is it?
If that perhaps also an illusion, real enough, but again not permanent, for all passes, yet what remains? What is it that keeps us going, hoping, seeking, getting up, starting anew even after the millionth fall or set back; what is it? Perhaps grace is so much a part of life that we often don’t see it, like beauty it can often be passed by, yet it is still there.
I don’t have many answers, yet I choose to believe in something beyond my comprehension, we call it God, a generic term, used all over the world, pointing to something deep, loving, all encompassing, beyond all forms and understandings, yet revealed as love in Christ. So perhaps that is the key, infinite love, experienced often as not-love.
Yes that is the real illusion.
We each struggle with the questions about life. Not always conscious of it, yet we are creatures who have self awareness, a boon a blessing and also perhaps experienced as a curse, yet in the end our greatest gift. To seek truth is our true dignity, to ask questions our vocation. To deepen our understanding of the world, ourselves, God, should never be feared or rejected, for to stand still, not to question, is to stagnate, to build walls of fear, to suffocate. Each path has infinite depth, no need to jump from one belief to another, better to seek wisdom and truth in what one believes, that will keep anyone busy for lifetime, for mystery means a truth that will never be fully understood, yet understanding can grow eternally.
the key is easy (haiku chain)
04.24.08 (8:36 am) [edit]
The key is easy
taboos are not sins,
compulsions lack true freedom,
culture norms block real truth,
so just what is sin?
as I get older
I seem to understand more
about my own true nature,
yet ignorant still.
sin implies freedom
giving dignity to all,
showing we are not victims
for choice is involved.
we are not victims,
the message is there to see
it is best to have a sin
than bound by taboo.
victims of sin yes
sinned against more than sinners
compulsions fruit is the soil
where our chains are forged
yet there is true hope
for the Gideon knot we have
entangled, untie-able
mercy shows the way
the key is easy
though hard to live in true life
self contempt our enemy
that only love heals.
we love to grasp, cling,
to that which imprisons us
the power of sin still strong
yet mercy greater
Truth not the enemy
04.23.08 (4:19 pm) [edit] | |
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Truth not the enemy
So much debate going on today,
opinions strongly held,
defended with passion,
arguments making sense to the one spouting them,
to the one listening,
well perhaps it seems nonsense.
Words rightly said,
concepts told just so,
logic upheld,
by both sides none- the- less,
leading to nowhere
except perhaps to insults,
sneers;
some ugly shit goes on in the name of dialogue.
How easily childish we become,
I wonder if there are any adults at all,
perhaps we are still young adolescents,
a dangerous place for any species to be.
Everything is only opinion nowadays,
truth looking like a field flat and uninteresting,
with something small at times pushing through
then dying the death of philosophical fads,
or science becoming just another ideology
with its own form of orthodoxy.
Or faith based on fear,
allowing only what does not threatened through,
its interior only an empty tomb,
dead
it followers just do not know it.
Truth is not the enemy of anyone,
fear of it is;
perhaps beneath all the blah, blah, blah,
there is something that is not mere opinion
but rock bottom truth,
on which all else grows.
Perhaps we are all called to seek together,
listen,
learn,
and move forward,
that truth is not what is in my head,
or just what I believe,
but a mystery that ever deepens with maturity.
Over the edge
04.22.08 (3:28 pm) [edit] | |
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Over the edge
I often think about my childhood, and my memories go way back. I even have some recollections of being an infant, very mundane of course. One of my first is me trying to push a baby bottle filled with apple juice away out of my mouth, and my mother pushing it back in; I was stubborn from the beginning I think. It was one of those old fashioned baby bottles, glass, and how I hated the taste of apple juice, to this day not much of a fan. I have no idea why some memories seem to stay close to the surface while others disappear. Many of the events I can recall where not traumatic in any way, while others of course where, which caused a deep change in me. I suppose that some very deep traumatic episodes are completely buried for my own protection, well perhaps, for I don’t know, for hidden is hidden, won’t know till they surface. Of course over the years some have. For no matter how much I remember, there is much that I do not. I guess most of our days or consigned to oblivion, a good thing, for what would we do with all those memories. Being able to forget can be a blessing. Repression has its reasons, and when the time is right, perhaps some memories will arise to give us greater insight.
The older I get, the less I seem to know and understand about myself; for the deeper I go the less free I at times feel myself to be. I have some insight into some of my problems; the operative word here is ‘some’. While this is helpful, it still does not take away from some interior struggling to keep myself in balance. Of course I guess it is good to be dealing with pretty much the same things, even if at times I don’t fully understand the whys of it all. I think it would be very difficult to have to deal with some new kind of interior problem every week; the thought itself exhaust me.
When I do achieve a break through in my life, it seems to happen in spite of myself. It is like I spend a lot of time pounding my head or hands against a wall, then give up, just sit down, and suddenly without my even knowing it, I am on the other side. There must be processes that go on in us that are deep and cannot be directly observed, just the fruit of their activity experienced when it happens. Perhaps the struggling, failing, getting up are just ways to distract us from the deeper work that goes on. Jung states that the soul constantly moves towards integration, health, balance. I suppose a Christian way to state the same thing is it is grace at work. Perhaps life and grace are tightly woven together to make a tapestry out of both the inner and outer events of life.
I have cycles that I can’t seem to break; they seem to be part of my life that is important, even if at times I see only chaos and my own inadequacies, which are many. Yet I persist, what else can I do? Give up? Yeah right! I can’t think of anything more lame than giving up. Even if I am treading at times, it is better than sinking, for as long as there is life, there is hope. Even if I do sink, which could happen, it is a common occurrence, yet even then there is hope. Perhaps the struggle is not so much overcoming the inner chaos, but in simply not despairing. It seems that the falling and rising is the normal growth pattern for most of us humans, though I guess there are exceptions; I guess they are the saints, but even then I don’t know. Most struggles are interior, for we are inward creatures, subjective, with great depth even if at times that depth is buried in outward concerns and yes our inner turmoil.
We pass each other all the time; in airports, trains, at work, in malls, and yes in our cars. It is easy to forget that each one we pass has a deep inner universe filled with joy and yes sorrow, pain and chaos……and more often than not, the simple task, again often hidden, of just trying to get through the day without doing any damage to oneself or others. Random acts of kindness can be a great help to those around us, for they are often thought out, consciously acted upon, and based on true compassion. Random acts of cruelty are a different matter entirely. For they are often reactions, not thought out at all, not malicious, but none the less can be very harmful for those who are victim to them, as well as for the one who commits such acts. I suppose little acts, whether they are kind or cruel, can either heal or help to push someone over the edge. Life has a way of getting to us at times, so I think it is a good practice to be conscious of what mood one is having, so has not to be controlled by it.
Sometimes people do go over the edge, lose it, blow up, lash out, or withdraw inward into a dark bleak world of depression. I think it is good to have compassion on ourselves and others, especially when they sink for a time, I course some sink for good, and take others with them. The newspapers are filled with such stories. Yes we all have a hard journey. Such is life and we each have to find some way to make sense to it all. Even if we can find a way to deal with life, through faith for instance, it still will not make much sense for many. It often does not for me. There seems to be so much absurdity in life; chance, random events, or just plain luck at times seems to rule the day. Yet without that perhaps freedom of any sort would be impossible. For our lives do turn on a dime. Many each day find that out. We impose a certain order on our lives, a good thing, yet in the end the order is an illusion, for there are many kinds’ earthquakes, sudden happenings that change everything forever. What we thought was permanent is shown for what it is, a comforting, necessary illusion, so that we can simply live. I don’t think this outlook takes away from faith in any way, for me it only deepens it.
I am not sure I need answers any more, well perhaps I do; I am just getting more comfortable with living in a world where in spite of it all, most people seem to move forward. Those who don’t, well perhaps I am wrong in that, I misjudge. For paradox is also present in life, constantly turning over what we think is true, to see things on a slightly deeper level. I think however as I get older, I seem to have more faith in the simple process that we are all going through, that we are here for reasons we do not yet understand or comprehend.
As St. Paul says, “In Him we live and move and have our being”, there is no separation with God, we are one, God journeys with us in the dark night. Infinite love is not human love; it can be felt as harsh, cruel, when in fact it is not that at all. We are pilgrims, on a journey, and perhaps it is best to understand that we are on a fast train hurdling to our destination, and that train is time. Clinging is useless, best to let go, and in that final letting go hopefully it will not be so difficult. Little deaths along the way, some larger than others….. perhaps practice for the time that awaits us all; the stepping through the dark door, something it seems we all do alone, at least from this side of the exit.
A loving couple
04.21.08 (12:26 pm) [edit] | |
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A loving couple
It was just before lunch yesterday, I was working at the computer entering medicines when I got a call. Augustine notified me that someone had fallen in the church and asked if I could please come down and check. At first I hesitated, the nurse was not here, it was Sunday. Even if she was I am not sure it would be good for her to deal with the public at large. However, when I was told it was an elderly lady I decided it best for me to go, for fails can be very serious when past a certain age.
When I arrived I saw the women lying on the floor, her husband standing watch, with a small group of people gathered around. The husband had a walker and was keeping silent sentinel over her. The first thing I did was to get him a chair to set on and then knelt down next to the elderly women, took her hand in mine and asked her how she was doing. She smiled nervously and said she seemed to be ok. When I asked about pain, she pointed to her left hip. I told her that we needed to call 911, to get to the hospital and have her checked out. For there was a good chance, she could have at least a hair line fracture, so to move her could only make things worse, if that were the case. I called 911 and let them know the situation, also that she was not in any immediate danger, and so the fire department and lots of whistles and bells where not needed.
She was a very attractive woman, whom I could see took great pride in how she looked; she was also trying to be brave for her husband. I thought that I was going to have to drive the husband into the ER, but soon a young woman came forward, who said that she was their driver and all she needed was directions to the hospital. I gave her directions, also my cell phone number in case she needed anything.
As we were waiting for the ambulance I could not help but feel deeply for her. She seemed so vulnerable, scared, both for herself and her husband. So I told her not to worry. The fall did not seem bad, so even if there is a fracture; today they fix them up quickly and will have her on her feet in no time. She had no bone disease so that was in her favor. It seemed to help a little, there is so little that can actually be done for others; which at times is a cause of frustration for me.
After the ambulance came, the EMT’s allowed the husband to drive in with them, for they were inseparable, and the love they had for one another shown through in a gentle quiet dignity. It was difficult to get the husband into the Van, but one of the EMT’s put down a case and we were able to get him in.
It turned out that she did have a hair line fracture, and she was able to go home to Florida for the operation. The driver rented a car that allowed for the front seat to go back far enough where she could travel comfortably. I was a little nervous when I heard this, but from what I last heard they had arrived safely at the hospital, and no doubt the operation will be done today or tomorrow.
All in all I am glad that they called me. For I have learned from painful experience that when someone who is elderly falls, you best get it checked, to allow them to move could cause a hair line fracture to become worse and complicate matters. I did that once, a painful lesson for all concerned.
freedom
04.20.08 (4:41 pm) [edit] | |
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freedom
freedom is sought insistently,
the roads differ,
human alienation is carried by all;
pain,
anxiety,
boredom and ennui,
as well as deep joy and love,
anger and deep all consuming rage,
a strange mixture,
we all must carry down our unique paths
at times the road hard,
the burdens heavy and enduring
yet the search continues,
freedom
is in our sights,
oh yes
there is also
love.
Unknowns
04.19.08 (7:12 pm) [edit] | |
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unknowns
knowing what he wants to say
but can't,
on other days
he does not know he is caught,
has no idea what he is saying or doing,
imprisoned in a cycle of frustration ever deepening,
his life at the mercy of strangers,
for
all are unknowns now,
except for the ghost of his far past
who become mask on those who surround him.
Dementia's dance
04.19.08 (9:49 am) [edit] | |
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Dementia’s dance
Things move slow in the mind that is confused,
life seen as if in a fog,
yet the dark mist unperceived,
clear sight a painful illusion,
uncomprehending of how others treat them
or in the simple doing of what must be done,
for them their confusion is the only reality.
Each moment or situation has a life of its own,
a beginning, middle and an ending,
a bardo,
a place of continued changing,
nothing permanent,
constant flux,
a whole lifetime in a few moments,
then forgotten as if it did not happen,
until it has to be done again,
the stoic’s eternal return,
relived but not remembered.
So time shattered between the chaotic ‘now’,
then lost in the distant past
becoming present,
the experience going either way
bringing peace
or anger and deep suffering.
Life becoming a masquerade,
those there
wearing the faces
playing in events long past,
the roles played of those often long dead.
So much inner incomprehension
taken for simply ‘what is’,
a tragedy for both the one confused
and those who have to deal with it on a daily basis.
Yet it is not all bad,
for forgetfulness is also a blessing,
the good moments just as powerful as the bad,
the laughter there,
the pleasure of food,
good memories becoming alive,
surrounded by friends only they can see,
yet real none the less,
at least for them.
Faith also never leaves for those who are blessed with it,
often giving a center to simply ‘be’,
a place to stand,
pray,
and seek some answers,
when the searching is possible,
and
when that goes,
well,
God is ever faithful
present in a place more real,
eternal,
just below the chaos and shattering
until the time
when
it all ends,
and the essential unity revealed.
bound
04.18.08 (8:23 am) [edit] | |
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bound
yet fear often keeps us bound,
for walls must come down often
for freedom to live
bound
04.18.08 (8:19 am) [edit] | |
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bound
yet fear often keeps us bound,
for walls must come down often
for freedom to live
His benign smile
04.17.08 (12:43 pm) [edit]
His benign smile
I went into Philip’s room this morning to see how he was doing. I guess Philip has been here the longest of anyone. I think he started living in this unit in the early 90’s; he needed to be supervised because of his angina. He was a very nervous man, introverted, cautious in most things that he did. At about the same time, he also had a pacemaker put in, which keeps his heart at an even 60 beats a minute, come rain or shine, his heart beats the same.Sally was with him as I walked in. She is a volunteer, a retired Nurse, who worked many years at St Joseph’s ER for many years. She comes in two times a week, most times, helps with the baths, bed changes, and also feeds Philip. She is a wonderful lady and it is always a joy to be around her. She is witty, intelligent, and a very devout Christian, a Catholic and proud of it.
Philip has Alzheimer’s; been stricken with it for many years. In fact he has outlived everyone who was here when he first entered. For him it is not too bad. He is peaceful, happy most days, easy to take care of, and looks upon the world with a sort of benign smile constantly on his face. Some days he can feed himself, but more often than not he has to be fed. So that was what Sally was doing. As is his wont, he does have good days and bad, thought the good far outweigh the bad; a blessing, both for him and also for those who take care of him. This morning he seemed a little glum, so I tried to cheer him up, this did not work however.
Phillip had a sister named Ada, with whom he was very close. However they were polar opposites when it came to personality types. He was a very intense, nervous introvert, while Ada on the other hand was a rollicking extrovert. Always laughing, joking, and playing around. We in fact became very close. When she would come for a visit, I would often pick her up at the airport, and she would insist on taking me to lunch. We always had a very good time. So I started talking to Phillip about his sister Ada. I always get a reaction when I do this. As we talked he started to smile, then tears fell, but the smile remained. We talked about how she would tire him out with her being so outgoing, and he laughed a little at that, for though he loved her she did get on his nerves at times. Ada knew this and so some times she would only stay for an hour or so in the morning and see him again in the afternoon; she understood him very well. Yet they did love each other very much. She died a few years ago of cancer, and Philip and I often talk about her, for I to miss her. So he got emotional about her as we talked. As I was leaving he grabbed my hand and whispered, “thank you”. Even though he has Alzheimer’s, his memory from the past is often still very good. It is the present that he gets confused about.
Philip is one of the quiet ones, been here for a long time. I get into the habit of thinking he will be here forever, but I know that one day, most likely soon, he will leaver us. I think it will take a bit of getting used to, not seeing his gently smile looking out benignly on the world, blessing us with his gentle presence.
it's fruit
04.16.08 (4:20 pm) [edit] | |
it's fruit
it's drops feed the dry earth;
black roses its fruit
the tree limbs
04.16.08 (11:37 am) [edit] | |
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the tree limbs
the sun ever bright
the limbs rising upward strong
perhaps union sought
the stare
04.15.08 (3:57 pm) [edit] | |
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his eyes round intent his stare
my beard was the draw
Your revelation
04.15.08 (8:32 am) [edit] | |
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Your Revelation
Some people seem to fly the course,
their eyes fixed on their path;
they do not waver,
running
or
walking,
their strides seem strong and sure.
I barely crawl,
stopping,
going off track,
wandering,
often confused I stumble along
muttering my prayers,
faith
at times weak,
surrounded by my own inner chaos:
yet Lord
I call.
In little things you touch my depths,
a song,
or just a smile,
even the beauty of a cloud passing over
will draw me to you.
Laughter,
good food,
family,
birds,
dear, cats and dogs,
show me a beauty touching my often chaotic soul,
beauty everywhere,
within each moment your revelation
In books,
art,
and yes poetry
your light shines through;
so close Lord,
yet
I wander,
soon sinking once again
the sleep of forgetfulness lulls me.
My walk with you is pure grace,
perhaps we all swim in it,
yet we never drown.
Live giving love upholds,
heals,
encourages,
pursues through life
perhaps even after death as we experience it,
for with you Lord
there is only life,
and exit for us
a doorway for you.
With you there is only life.
Too soon
04.12.08 (12:17 pm) [edit] | |
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Too soon
When young and healthy the world is ours,
our bodies sleek,
or if not at least strong,
if not that,
we still have years to look forward to,
death something far off not to be thought off.
Yet the years speed by and soon,
too soon,
we find ourselves among the middle aged
or the old,
with our change of perceptions
often forced upon us,
yet there none the less.
Our future shorter than our past,
for some health fails,
others a slow process taking decades,
yet noticed all the same.
When seeing others chair bound,
perhaps close to death,
it is just another lesson to be learned
or ran from,
but there none the less,
asking,
look and learn but do not fear
for though all the vagaries of life
you are not alone,
for the experience of the young soul within
is not an illusion
for we are all children in the end.
Life in all of its stages can be embraced,
and those who surround us can be loved,
for the aged
and the sick are teachers until the end,
showing others that though the way be hard,
there is also joy and love
all along the journey,
if only we have the eyes to see beyond the grey,
the dark,
into the eternal light beyond all form and comprehension
that the mind can hold,
we each have a role to play no matter what stage of life we are in,
teachers
and healers
along the way that we each must trod,
perhaps it can be called the way of the cross
leading to death
yet
also to something beyond
The cure
04.11.08 (8:49 am) [edit]
The cure
We are all healers unbeknownst to ourselves,
a simple smile
given without thought
or a touch,
can be a healing balm to others,
do not doubt what you have to offer
for in a world of suffering
the healing balm of love is the only true cure,
for it is love that we are made for,
also we exist to show love to those in need,
for God gives without limit,
in our giving we draw close to His image.
What is, is
04.10.08 (6:49 pm) [edit] | |
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What is, is
As I was talking Ann this week, about some of my difficulties with a couple of people I know, going on and one about it as is my wont. She stopped me, looked intently and said: “Why all the arrogance; this need to try to change others”. . Trying to tell others how, or what they should do; perhaps even scolding in my tone. Well that got me thinking a bit. Arrogance; me (?); well yeah, I have told her that a few times, about how I can be that way. Not sure I expected her to agree with me, just trying to be humble, a good ploy, but it does not work with her; I think she sees through me. Funny really, me doing that, trying to deal with others chaos, when I have more than enough on my own plate to deal with. I would suppose if I asked my friends they would be more than happy to give me a list. No doubt a number of things would come up that I am not even aware of.
Then after she let that sink in, she continued: “what is, is”, learn to accept that, people are the way they are, and you can’t change them, perhaps invite, but scolding does nothing”. Of course I a paraphrasing this, interrupting from my own experience, but however she meant it, I did get something to chew over this week. She seems to know when to drop “da bomb” on me.
I have known for a while that I can really tie myself up in knots trying to figure others out, why they do what they do, and my favorite, usually spoken to my inner self; “What the hell, how did they come to the conclusion”! Of course I tend not to notice that I get that very same look from my friends at times, but ignore it mostly. This week I was thinking of someone that I can’t figure out, then came to the brilliant conclusion that perhaps, just perhaps, he found me just as difficult to understand. Gee I can be thick, very thick.
Sometimes talking, listening, does not help, one just has to accept “what is”.
The meal
04.09.08 (9:41 am) [edit] | |
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The meal
Four friends at a meal at the Atlanta airport,
in the atrium near the clock,
a good place to meet those arriving from their journeys.
There is one nice restaurant,
that day it was quiet so we decided to eat there;
it was a good match we four,
older,
kind of mature,
just enough not to be boring
yet not too much, so we could actually act like kids.
Funny how adults are when together,
when there is trust,
just fun seems to flow,
no deep thoughts
just laughing,
joking
poking fun,
the food good
the wine better I guess,
being the driver I could not have any,
yet not important,
for people often get me glowing in and of themselves,
How can one not believe in the soul
for where does the glow come from,
the gentleness
the wisdom that is part of humor?
Williams heart felt prayer
04.07.08 (8:44 am) [edit]
Williams’s heart felt prayer
Well it was quite a morning with William, for you never know what to expect when it comes to taking care of his nursing needs. As his disease progresses, his symptoms will of course become more pronounced and painful for all involved. This morning while cleaning him, or perhaps ‘attempting’ is the better word, he put on quite a performance, that was in no way acting but came from the deepest recesses of his soul, confused as it might be. His perception of what was going on, something I will never really know, caused him to react in a very violent manner, with a great deal of kicking, hitting, and screaming. It started off ok, but soon became just another match of wits I guess.
I guess it took about 30 minutes to clean him. He insisted that we call the police, and that we “stay the hell away from him”, which of course we did not, for he is not responsible for what he says or does, and we really do have to take care of him. Slowly he is being cornered into a smaller and smaller world, making it ever more difficult to reach him on any reasonable level; which takes its toll on those who have to care for him day in an out. Past memories of him keep overlaying his present situation, which at times can add to the frustration of the job, since there is only so much one can do. Flash memories of what he was like, his laughter, humor, yes even his darker qualities, take on a nostalgic flavor, hoping that perhaps he could come back, but then back to reality, no it is a down hill slide. All we can do is to try to make him as comfortable as possible, and try to give him some good moments, which we do. It is not all black or depressing, there are bright moments for him, and his memory; well it is a blessing that he can’t remember from one day to the next; sometimes from hour to hour, or minute to minute. It varies from day to day, though it tends towards the less portion of memory retention. You can’t help loving those you take care of, for it is a very intimate kind of relationship, where everything about the one being cared for is accepted, even if there is a struggle in doing so from time to time.
After we cleaned him, in order for him not to get in the way of Bernie’s trying to get Breakfast ready, I took William down to our little chapel, hoping it would calm him down. Of course it did not. I sat next to him and listened to his lament, his being totally naked before God; in his speaking out his anger, self disgust, rage toward those who take care of him, and yes his anger at God, for he feels abandoned by Him. For he is still aware enough to know that something is very wrong and out of his control, truly a worst case scenario for most people.. Having to be cleaned four or five times a day is something that he finds demeaning, and this time he used language that seemed to imply that in very poignant terms which I won’t repeat here.
As he was expressing this heart felt prayer, for that is what is truly was, being present before God in deep pain, confusion, anger and rage; being truly childlike in his honesty, for his ability at pretension has been taken away by his disease. So in listening, I noticed that his wailing took on a chant like melody. A certain kind of rising and failing that took on a tragic beauty, a psalm like intensity, that I have never heard before, or perhaps have not noticed. Yes he was truly praying, and I have no doubt that he was heard, and in my own poor way I joined in, seeking to at least be with him, though he could not perceive it at the time. Yes he is Christ in the garden, asking that the cup be taken away, yet it will not, for this is his journey, and it is the privilege of the caregivers to try to make it a little less painful, though at times it does not seem that way.
Of course this will pass, at least for a time and merciful forgetfulness will give him some reprieve; yes he sinks further into the darkness that his disease visits on its victims. So the brevity of out lives, and the speed in which time goes by is perhaps one of God’s greatest mercies towards us. For I have never met anyone who does not have a heavy burden to carry, it is just life, can’t get away from it, and in the trying it only makes things worse.
I once read that the difference between a saint and a sinner is this; the saint faces life head on, does not try to run away from the pain that in so much a part of life. While the sinner seeks to flee from pain, and in doing so, paradoxically, causes more pain and suffering, not only on themselves but on others. Well I am still in the latter category. It is one thing to know something, quite another to live it. Well until I am forced to, perhaps another mercy, for mercy can be harsh and infinite love alien to the way I would think things should be done.
Of course my faith could be bull shit, but I don’t believe it is.
What love will do
04.06.08 (6:48 pm) [edit] | |
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What love will do
yet fill him with courage to bear all pain for the beloved,
when the walls come down
and the other enters into the inner sanctuary,
the fire of purgation,
the agony and the ecstasy
lead to union
deep
and enduring.
Tolerance
04.06.08 (8:07 am) [edit] | |
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Tolerance
I often write about tolerance towards others, it is something central to who I am and what I believe, at least on the surface of things. However, perhaps the main reason I write and ponder this subject is because it is something lacking deep within my own soul that arises when provoked, tired, and not centered. Though I can honestly say being centered seldom happens for me. All my tolerance can fall by the way side pretty quickly. When that happens, all of my so called objectivity flies out the window very quickly, at the speed of light. In other words there was never a window there in the first place, just some silly notion that I can hold when things run smoothly and I am feeling ok. Let that fall away and in the right circumstance I can get in touch with my inner bigot.
The older I get, and the knowledge of my own inner fragmentation and tendency towards narcissism deepens, my faith in the reality of sin also becomes easier to understand. As a species we are neither rational nor tolerant. We tend to gravitate towards tribes, be they ancestral, or just groups that we feel comfortable living or being with. Intellectual, emotional compounds, where group-think can turn in on itself and have only pity or contempt for those who are different, either in belief, race or political persuasion. For many it is out in the open, for others hidden, beneath soothing words of acceptance, intolerance lurking waiting for the time when it can arise. Many are aware of the struggle, how tolerance is something that has to be worked at, and that failure will at times need to be repented of.
We, or perhaps many of us(who knows there may be exceptions, those we call saints) are flawed, fallen, childish, and self absorbed, unloving, in a word we are sinners. Yet I do not think that is all there is. The opposite is also true, we are beautiful, strong, and have the ability to reach out to others in love and compassion. Though it seems easier to slip into the former than to live out the latter, this is the problem that we as a species have to deal with.
We like to think of ourselves as rational. Yet our history would seem to rule that out. We try hard at being rational. We have logic, but even those who understand the laws of logical thought, tend to use it as a weapon to overwhelm or prove wrong any one who happens to disagree with them. Which can be legitimate, but when both sides use it, then the limits of logic can easily be seen. So we get trapped in doing the same self destructive nonsense over and over again. I would say ‘trapped’ is the operative word here.
Not to far back, there was a man who went into an Amish school and murdered some of the children. A great tragedy and my heart was broken, just as the heart of the nation was, over this great misfortune visited upon them. So what did the Amish do? They did not demand revenge, no, they forgave the one who did this to them. They extended mercy towards this murderer of their children, and suddenly a small cycle of violence was stopped through mercy.
Could I do such a thing? I don’t know, though I think it would take time. What they did in short order, at great cost, would perhaps take me years. Their hearts open to grace, the healing that comes from a deep truly loving relationship with God, truly a prophetic message for the rest of us.
So yes, as a species, we are caught in the instinctive struggle on how to respond to evil. Revenge and justice are first cousins, who often intermarry, and the fruit of such a union is an ever deepening quagmire of violence, suffering and death that can go back for generations. Our sense of justice does not help; it only makes the problem worse. Yes we are chained to this amusement part ride, always looking to get the ring, and we always do…….. so it seems that we can never get off. Well we will one day, when the fruit drops from the tree and there will be no one around to continue the ride.
Forgiveness, mercy is the only way out, yet the paradox is that it will not work, for violence is an addiction, a way to forestall pain and suffering with a quick fix which is the grandfather of all illusions. In the end it is sin, the seed of self destruction that seems to drive us. Perhaps we are all mad, it is just is seems normal, there are so many of us.
I would like to give some easy answer but I can’t, in fact I don’t have one. I know that my faith in Christ does give me hope, but in the short term, I think the chaos will only grow, the hatred between the different groups; be it based on ideology, faith or race, will only keep deepening, the roots going into the very bowels of the earth, and then it will shatter.
Yes sin is making more sense to me as I grow older. I am also part of the problem, for all my life I have been trying to tame this inner beast, yet for the most part fail. I have just never been tested in ways many of my brothers and sister throughout the world are on a daily basis. I cannot condemn those who fall prey to violence, murder and hatred, for I know my own heart, which without grace would quickly fall into these behaviors. Many good people who are much better than me fall into it on a daily basis. We are trapped by our own natures.
I am not in despair, for my faith in God’s grace and mercy is real. Even if things get dark I need to struggle against drowning in it; it is God’s mercy that allows me to swim the current. Perhaps getting beat up in being dashed against the stones along the way, yet I do not sink. My faith always points to hope, those without it, well I don’t know if hope is possible. Yet I can’t speak for anyone else can I?
I suppose the spoke person for each group is looked upon by those who belong to the particular tribe, religion or ideology, as speaking the truth, which the generalizing is seen as true, which leads to the same kind of response from those who are attacked. It seems to be an impossible impasse for us, which I can see no way out. When people like Dawkins can say some of the things he says and is applauded by for it, yet if the same kind of rant is used under a differ guise, it is condemned by those who themselves agree with their own brand of prejudice.
A bowl of marbles
04.05.08 (8:15 am) [edit] | |
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Sometimes when I set down to write, it is more as act of faith than anything, for there are mornings when I have no idea what I am going to journal about. I don’t think it is writer’s block, which is obvious that is something I don’t have; it’s just there is so much churning inside me that wants to get out that it can paralyze me. So I often just start, and slowly the flow comes. A good friend of mine teased me about my writing, he said to me once: “is there a thought you ever have that you don’t write down?” I laughed when he said that, and yes there is plenty I don’t write about, but perhaps one day. Or the need to write will go away, for I started writing very late in life, and whatever need caused this to arise, could just as easily leave.
Writing is like giving birth for me; yes a very feminine image as well a maternal. Writing, then sending, is part of an overture that I need to do at this time of my life. For me to simply write and not send would not be worth my time, both are needed, I suppose a stillbirth comes to mind if it is not put out there. I really don’t understand this, since I am sure that many do not read what I send, and that is ok, for my stuff can be long and I am sure often boring. I simply put too much out there, but when I do, something happens inside of me, something good. It is like I have been mulling over things all my life and suddenly I need to see what it looks like. I guess not all of it pretty, but life is like that isn’t it, often not pretty.
I suppose I am trying to bring my heart and head together, at least so that I am consciously aware of it. For now, often actually, I experience a spilt between what comes out when I write, and how I actually experience myself. Sometimes I don’t know where the stuff I write arises from, yet it is there. Perhaps all those who write experience this, or perhaps I am just too scattered in my inner world and writing is the only way that I can get the pieces together. Perhaps it just slows my racing mind down enough so that I can actually get a peek to what is going on inside me. I know that I have a private journal that I keep now, and it is always helpful when I go back a read what I had to say three or four years ago.
I know there is movement in my soul. I also know that I run around the same circles I have always done, yet perhaps better that, than something brand knew every week; now that would be exhausting I think. The progress I seem to be making, is often in spite of me, it is something else, deeper, hidden, working in my life, where some days I will stop and wonder, how I have gotten to where I am at. For in reality I sometimes think I am like a bowl full of marbles scattered over the floor, different colors and sizes with no real rhyme or reason for them at all. Yet again my life is moving forward, or perhaps zig-zagging is the better word, there is some inner movement towards healing, integration that will not allow me to rest, and yes I also feel the pull of grace, perhaps they are the same. Grace is not something apart from life, perhaps it is just life, the gift of it all, the good the bad and the ugly.
My mind still races, though I am better at slowing it down as I age, perhaps that is what the writing is all about, to slow down thoughts and yes my tapes, many of them compulsive and tormenting, if I take the wrong attitude towards them. Some days, when I am tired, or perhaps just down they seem to take over, my dear tapes. They are like annoying flies, a buzzing that I would like to get rid of all together, yet I can’t. I have found that my own inner attitude, that comes from a place far different than the tapes….. a place of freedom, is my only way out. The more I ‘hate’ them, the stronger they get, the less I fight them the weaker their effect, and with humor, well they tend to simply melt away, at least for awhile.
Because of my racing mind that can go in four different directions at the same time, I have learned different ways to deal with them. When walking around, or driving, even when listening to the radio, I have found that small prayers said over and over again, gently and with attention are a real help for me. The holding of the prayer rope, that fits around my wrist when I am not using it, helps to ground me, the feel of the rope bead helps to get rid of stress by the slow movement, and the inner freedom that gives me, allows an inner space that keeps me in God’s presence, the tapes perhaps put on the back burner. I think it is the slow using of the very short prayers that allows the mind to rest, giving me the freedom I need to simply just ‘be’. Now many would go crazy trying to do that. Some try this kind of prayer and become very compulsive about it, which has the exact opposite affect; it can weary instead of refresh, so it is not for everyone by any means. No form of prayer is I guess, we all are unique on how we relate to the divine.
When I was in the Navy and had to do guard duty during the night, I found this form of prayer very helpful in keeping me alert and also it helped to speed up the time. I remember in boot camp, I would at least twice a week get guard duty, or fire watch is what it was called. I would usually get the midnight to four AM watch, which was difficult. When I would start I would take out my Rosary and very slowly recite the prayers, and simply think about the mysteries as I did my rounds. I became alert, for my inner thoughts where directed in a certain direction but not forced, nor was my mind wandering. So I was awake and aware of what was going on around me and best of all, I found that time really speed by. The four hours at times seemed like only one, and when it was over I went right to sleep. Now I would like to say I was bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, but that did not happen, I would get up groggy, until my first cup of coffee.
I know that my struggles are pretty much the same for many, true we are each unique, but in many ways the same. It is when I forget this that I can become hard on others, but when I am in touch with my own weakness, failures and inner compulsions, it is very hard to be down on those I know and live with. We each have a heavy inner load to carry, even if hidden it is still there. We often do what we don’t want to, because of these inner triggers that often run the show behind the curtain, playing with the lights, or hidden from our view by the lights. In any case, awareness can at times be over rated, for if anything I am too aware and I don’t think it has helped me all that much. I sometimes feel like I am trying to dance my way through life while looking at my feet, not very helpful, I do trip a lot and I do mean a lot.
Perhaps it is not important, for it is love that calls, I just need to keep the desire to respond burning.
The man in the wheelchair
04.04.08 (7:53 am) [edit] | |
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Sometimes people, strangers seen, even it not met, perhaps particularly if not met, can take on a symbolic importance that can become haunting. Yesterday I took Alphonse to the VA for his annual appointment at the Bronze clinic, which is on the Tenth floor of the hospital. After the appointment we had to go to the lab for some blood test, which is on the second floor. The lab is usually a very busy place. As you enter, you take a number and then go up to the desk and give the receptionist your VA card which is swiped; your orders received from the computer, and then you sit down and wait. It was a little longer than usual yesterday because we arrived during lunch hour and I guess only one was still on duty, but I am used to waiting, so it was not a bother for either Alphonse or me.
It is an interesting assortment of people you meet and see while there. Everyone comes through, with every kind of problem, and yes all ages. Because of the Gulf War, and now the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, many of those present were very young. I saw a young girl there, perhaps no more than 25 with only one leg, yes it can be sad to see, but I expect that the VA will be busy a hundred years from now, since I can see no let up in our propensity for war.
I went out into the hallway to wait, since it got crowded and I did not want to take up room needed by those there for lab work. I had a book I was reading, so I took it out and tried to pass the time, but it can be difficult, since there is such an interesting assortment of humanity present there. I would imagine if I were a photographer, the VA would be one of my favorite places to visit, for the cross section of humanity one meets is really quite extraordinary.
There are so many interesting faces, with so many stories behind them, many of them of course tragic, for such is human life, so many things can go wrong, especially if in the military in time of war. There are a lot of vets like me from the Vietnam era, for we are fast replacing the World War 2 and Korean veterans as the seniors there. You still see vets from both wars but they are fast moving on to whatever awaits us after this life.
While waiting, I noticed among this varied crowd a woman pushing a wheel chair for a man who was probably from the nursing home, which is connected to the hospital. He was a big man, who seemed to be very sick. His legs which were exposed where bloated from edema; though he looked overweight a great deal of it could also be from fluid retention, so quite possibly he could be suffering from some vascular aliment, and even perhaps kidney failure. I really don’t know, but he seemed to be in a great deal of pain, both physically and psychologically, either one could be overwhelming by itself, but both together, well that could be a real cross to bear. The women pushing the chair, most likely his wife, seemed tired, but there was a peace radiating from her that I could feel. They had a hard time getting into the waiting room, but she managed ok. For some reason that picture has stayed with me, the man trapped in his chair, dependent on others to do the most simple of task, pain, endless procedures that most likely he has to go through and yes, the knowledge that he is a burden to his loving wife must surely weigh on him.
There is truly a great deal of pain in the world, yet it is experienced one person at a time, it is not something you can weigh, no we each carry a portion of it, and are also supported by those who will help us carry it. I do know as a care giver that first impressions can be deceiving since I have never had, nor will have any personal contact with this man, so it is easy to project all kinds of fears onto him that I have about my own future as I grow older.
In reality, even the sick have good days and bad days like the rest of us; we all adapt to whatever situation we find ourselves in and move on from there. I am sure he has friends there in the nursing home that he talks to. Most likely he reads, or if not watches television and most importantly of all, he has a deep inner life known only to God, in fact he is known in ways that he himself is not even aware of. Sometimes our friends can know us in ways that we can be blind to, they can see beauty in us that we don’t, also our faults or blind spots that we cannot accept or see, yet we are loved by them. We offer that gift of acceptance to one another all the time. A gift so common that its value is often over looked until it is lost. Yet deeper still, there is a spiritual dimension at work, hidden, yet there, that accompanies us all on our journeys, and perhaps the biggest surprise we get is the role it played in our lives after we are gone and look back. Of course many don’t believe in any kind of transcendent reality but in the end it probably does not matter, for infinite love is at work slowly in all of our souls.
In my morning mediation his image was strong, and I prayed for him, his wife, and those who know him, take care of him and yes love him. I also prayed for all that were like him, and I guess on some level it could cover just about everyone. As we age we more and more run into our physical limitations, even though our souls feel young and vibrant, the body just won’t respond like it used to. We each have our own path, but we can all reach out to others, in little ways or big, I don’t think it matters, it is in the reaching out that we become more human, also the image that we are created in becomes more apparent when we give out of love or compassion, y