Contradiction
07.31.08 (11:53 am) [edit] |  |
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Contradiction
I admire your faith that is so deep,
dedication is your natural way of being,
for all your life you have sought
and now in your latter years,
after much struggle
you have found peace.
You smile at my angst filled introspections
wishing I could just let go
and live in the moment,
“accept what is” you gently say,
and I sadly know that I cannot.
I believe and doubt,
love and hate,
seeking I also flee,
I am a living contradiction,
hardly knowing myself.
My heart a deep ocean of love
and a dry desert of nothingness,
deep wells of anger and rage
still demand my attention.
Then a numbness so deep
I cannot move but only call out,
yet I feel you pursuit.
I seem never to arrive
though I seem so close
yet I fall back to the inner wasteland
a place I know well,
my home.
My brokenness like glass scattered
bits and pieces of what is not yet,.
So I ask too many questions,
over think,
sink,
get stuck,
I think missing what is simply before me.
At times you think me a fool
and I think you are often right,
for my searching is a compulsion,
perhaps a shield,
keeping me from what I seek.
Yes I am a living contradiction.
Perhaps
07.28.08 (4:48 pm) [edit]
Perhaps
well perhaps I do,
then again;
oh the hell with it
let someone else,
brighter,
figure it out.
Concerning Eucharistic Desecration
07.28.08 (9:19 am) [edit]| Concerning Eucharistic Desecration |
| by Mark P. Shea |
| 7/23/08 |
For those who may have missed it, P. Z. Myers, a washed-up academic at a third-tier school who takes out his bitterness on Christians and calls it "science blogging," claimed that some human toothache named Webster Cook had received death threats for stealing a Eucharist and threatening to desecrate it. Reader John Farrell repeatedly tried to get Myers to verify the "death threat" bit but was shouted down by the throngs of Myers's cultists who took his claim on faith. Myers then decided to blow away the last shreds of pretense that his blog Pharyngula was about science and give full vent to his demented hatred of Jesus Christ by urging his throng of equally demented followers to steal some hosts so he could desecrate them and put the whole thing on his blog. The Catholic League got involved (rightly, in my view), and Catholics, as is our custom, have been arguing about it ever since, pursuing a range of responses from complete pacifism to some rather over-the-top reactions including (you guessed it) death threats against Myers. Myers, who seems to have been surprised by the response, has waffled between "I was just kidding" ("Like a madman who throws firebrands, arrows, and death, is the man who deceives his neighbor and says, 'I am only joking!'," Prv 26:18-19) and promising that he shall indeed carry through on his threat. One gets the impression that both he and his followers, having nothing but contempt for Catholics, have no real grasp of the interior contours of Catholic faith and belief, and therefore no grasp whatever of the hierarchy of values at work in Catholic life. A host is a statue is a banner is a rosary is a Bible is a scapular, as far as they can tell. You get the feeling that they are genuinely surprised to find that Catholics attach far more importance to the desecration of the Eucharist than, say, the desecration of a rosary. They seem to have reeled a bit at the volcanic response. Now they are getting their footing and realizing this really ticks off Catholics -- and so, like eight-year-olds, they are enjoying being in (they think) the position of saying, "Take one step closer and I'll torture your cat!" I won't mince words: Myers is an evil man. And as evil men -- particularly evil intellectuals -- tend to be, he is also a madman, as are most of his acolytes and followers. One need only read Pharyngula to know this. Not all atheists are driven mad by their atheism. Many are quite respectable human beings. But those who make it their raison d'être tend to be made crazy by it. That's the tragedy of sins of the intellect. They don't just make you stupid; if you persist in them, and particularly if you persist in them to this degree, they make you crazy. Now some forms of insanity are morally innocent due to organic troubles with the brain or body, or because of some sort of trauma. But others are chosen and willed. The choice to go out of one's way to blaspheme Jesus Christ, purely for hate's sake, is one of them. And, as with all sins, the sin itself is the punishment, because you then have to organize your life around defending the indefensible, and you become bricked round in the furnace of your own irrational hatred. The hatred breeds lies like, "I'm just exercising freedom of expression." No. You are committing theft, vandalism, and incitement. Or else you lie and say, "Unless Catholics can prove the Eucharist is actually the Body and Blood of Christ and not a worthless cracker, I'm just guilty of being rude." No. Catholics are under no obligation to prove that in order to show that you are guilty of theft, vandalism, and incitement. On my wall near my computer is a piece of paper with a crayon drawing on it. It's a self-portrait of my son Sean with a little heart and a poem in which he informs us he hearts us and we are good parents. Any art dealer in the world would appraise the value of the art at approximately nothing. Any literature scholar would tell you that the poem is very poor poetry. Likewise, the value of the paper is zero. To me, it's priceless. And if you send one of your blog readers into my house to take it, I would be quite justified in calling you a thief who has stolen something precious. I would also be quite justified in defending it and my house from your naked act of aggression. Yet another demented lie to cover up your naked act of aggression is to play the victim: I have to do something. I'm not going to just let this disappear. It's just so darned weird that they're demanding that I offer this respect to a symbol that means nothing to me. Something will be done. It won't be gross. It won't be totally tasteless, but yeah, I'll do something that shows this cracker has no power. This cracker is nothing. The answer to this lie is that nobody is demanding Myers offer respect to the Eucharist. He's blasphemed the Eucharist on his blog off and on since forever. Catholics are free to disagree with him, just as he is free to disagree with them. That's the first amendment in action and I, for one, am glad to live in the land where even demented professors can have a voice in the public square, if only to serve as a warning to normal people of what hatred of God can do to the human mind. No, what Catholics are demanding is not that Myers and his cultish followers respect the Eucharist. We are demanding that they not invade our religious services, steal what does not belong to them, and incite others to vandalize what is ours and not theirs. We are pointing out that thugs who do this are of precisely the same caliber and guilty of exactly the same crime as somebody who paints swastikas on a synagogue. (Notably, people who do that sort of stuff also claim to be victims when caught.) The most absurd thing about Myers's attempt to transmogrify his naked act of aggression, theft, vandalism, and incitement into victim status are the words "I have to do this" and his ridiculous contention that if he and his minions don't invade our sanctuaries and steal the Eucharist, they are "offering respect" to the Eucharist. He is basically saying that if we all are not going around the world desecrating whatever it is we don't believe in, we are ipso facto honoring same. So my failure to desecrate a Quran or the Satanic Bible means I am somehow respecting and honoring them. Crazy people talk that way. Myers and Co. are enmeshed in these lies because they have chosen evil. It is evil -- archetypally evil -- to desecrate the Eucharist. It's the sort of stuff archetypal bad guys in the movies do. And despite Myers's lies, it's completely unnecessary and gratuitous evil. Myers can do all the blasphemy he pleases on his blog (though not on the taxpayer's dime, as he often has, judging from the posting time and date of many of his entries). But the curious thing is that he cannot rest with mere verbal blasphemies. He has to get a host in his hands and destroy it with a savage glee that, curiously, places him not among scientists but among the most magical-thinking Bronze Age fanatics. He explains his action this way: "The point of desecrating the host isn't to make people angry -- it's to demystify and desanctify nonsense. It's how we wake people up -- by showing that their beliefs are powerless." Jeff Martin takes apart this notion of settling truth claims with trial by fire very bluntly: In this enlightened age, we do not settle religious and philosophical questions of inestimable importance by reasoning, examining the historical evidences, or any such recondite activity, but by subjecting the participants, or symbols dear to them, to the ordeal, to the end that Fate, the womb of possibility, the numinous power of whatever, might speak and deliver its verdict. We may as well bind the participants and cast them into a river, declaring the one, if any, who survives, the victor. Or, perhaps, we could emulate the Muslims, and associate the claimed veracity of the message with the world-conquering potency of its armies: it is true if it conquers. In fact, why don't we have a grand civilizational throwdown between the remnants of Christian reaction and the avatars of enlightened, secularist atheism -- it's not as though we've not already had one of those, you'll recall, with the Evil Empire, the Poles, the Pope . . . . Yes, but such an appeal to history, even recent history, by way of demonstrating the incompatibility of militant atheism with human dignity, would lie beyond Myers comprehension, presumably, as he would prefer to have the 'truth' established by means of his contrivance: let a singular communion wafer represent the entirety of the Christian claim, and let his sacrilege represent the claims of enlightenment, and if no bolt of lightning or pillar of fire descends from the heavens to smite him, Christianity stands exploded as rank superstition. Let us be forthright about what such presumption is: it is not merely indicative of a mental imbalance, an obsession or mania, but expressive of mental primitivism. Truth is established, not by reasoned discourse upon evidences and arguments, but by what amount to tests of strength, defiance, and pride. Might makes right, by the infernal glow of impudence. And mankind undergoes a spiritual and intellectual regression of some score of millennia. In short, Myers and Co. are not merely pre-scientific; they are pre-theological and pre-philosophic. And, of course, they are liars. Because it is manifestly obvious that they not only wish to make Christians angry but, as far as lies within their power, to get their hands on God and tear him to pieces, not just verbally but physically if possible. They are kith and kin to those who stood at the foot of the cross and sneered, "If you are the Son of God, come down." C. S. Lewis describes the curious itch that rankles in the shriveled soul of the God-hater in his Great Divorce. In that novella, the damned are offered a chance at heaven if they will only just get on a bus, go there, and stay. Instead, almost none of the damned do. They prefer to be what they are. And they love talking about hell and themselves (which really comes down to the same thing). Lewis continues: This curious wish to describe Hell turned out, however, to be only the mildest form of a desire very common among the Ghosts -- the desire to extend Hell, to bring it bodily, if they could, into Heaven. There were tub-thumping Ghosts who in thin, bat-like voices urged the blessed spirits [already in Heaven] to shake off their fetters, to escape from their imprisonment in happiness, to tear down the mountains with their hands, to seize Heaven "for their own good": Hell offered her co-operation. There were planning Ghosts who implored them to dam the river, cut down the trees, kill the animals, build a mountain railway, smooth out the horrible grass and moss and heather with asphalt. There were materialistic Ghosts who informed the immortals that they were deluded: there was no life after death, and this whole country was a hallucination. There were Ghosts, plain and simple: mere bogies, fully conscious of their own decay, who had accepted the traditional role of the spectre, and seemed to hope they could frighten someone. I had had no idea that this desire was possible. But my Teacher reminded me that the pleasure of frightening is by no means unknown on earth, and also of Tacitus' saying: "They terrify lest they should fear." When the debris of a decayed human soul finds itself crumbled into ghosthood and realises "I myself am now that which all humanity has feared, I am just that cold churchyard shadow, that horrible thing which cannot be, yet somehow is," then to terrify others appears to it an escape from the doom of being a Ghost yet still fearing Ghosts -- fearing even the Ghost it is. For to be afraid of oneself is the last horror. The thirsty cruelty and cowardice of Myers is manifest in this: Regardless of your views of the deity of Christ, to make oneself into a creature who deliberately desecrates the memory of an innocent Man who died in torments, solely for the purpose of spite, is an utterly pathetic and deeply evil thing. As all acts of blasphemy do, they serve only to destroy the image of God in the blasphemer. They do nothing whatever to harm Jesus (except in the sense that this sin too becomes one of the billions He bears in His body and soul on the Cross). But they do immeasurable harm to the soul of the blasphemer. What remains is for us Catholics to decide what to do. I think the first thing that needs to happen is, of course, prayer. Various folk in the blogosphere and elsewhere have mentioned acts of reparation. That's the right idea. Our first task is to forgive. And I mean forgive, not excuse. There is, literally, no excuse for this. None. If some clown sent Webster Cook or Myers a death threat, that does not justify their persecuting and insulting people who have done nothing wrong. Myers's logic is that of Kristallnacht: punish all Catholics everywhere with theft, vandalism, and incitement because of the (alleged) actions of one or two. The next thing to do is to fight. Forgiving and fighting not only may but must be done at the same time. If you doubt that, just look at Jesus: He forgave His impenitent killers at exactly the moment He was fighting (and winning) the most important battle ever fought against all the powers of hell. St. Paul likewise forgave his persecutors but was absolutely ingenious in making use of everything (including civil law) to fight them and advance the gospel. I have absolutely no problem with appeals to Caesar where it is appropriate, but we have to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. I think invocations of "hate crime" laws, for instance, are stupid, because I think the dumbest thing a Catholic can do is encourage the notion of ThoughtCrime or labor to make Caesar the arbiter of Allowable Speech. Canada is currently engaged in that social experiment, to catastrophic effect. So I think attempts to arraign Pharyngula as a "hate site" are deeply wrong-headed. Catholics need to cowboy up and face hatred like saints, not whine for Uncle Caesar to tell the Bad Man to stop saying mean things. On the other hand, I have no problem with Catholics pointing out that many a Pharyngula post has been made on the taxpayer's dime and that misuse of state monies should be punished. I likewise have no problem with Catholics lobbying the university to have this bigot canned as radically opposed to the university mission statement. I doubt it will happen, but they are welcome to try -- because Catholics have free speech, too. Similarly, just as St. Paul had no problem at all asking the civil power to protect him from persecution when some mob threatened him or one of his churches, I see nothing at all wrong -- if Myers and Co. carry out their threat -- with going to the civil authority and arraigning Myers et al. with theft, vandalism, destruction of property, and incitement, if the court system allows it. It is perfectly just to seek this, just as it is perfectly just for Jews to seek justice when some thug paints a swastika on a synagogue. Catholics rightly have hope of Myers's redemption. That's as it should be. But I also am mindful of Jesus' very solid counsel: "Do not give dogs what is holy; and do not throw your pearls before swine" (Mt 7:6). Myers et al. are precisely the sort of people Jesus has in mind here. If they are insulted by that, our first duty is to pray that they will somehow receive the grace to grasp how dire it is to be insulted by the Son of God, whose insults are, like everything else about Him, without any sin whatever. In short, they are people who deserve to be called swine, because they have made themselves swine by their actions. Our orders as Catholics are clear: Don't imagine that argument will do you any good when you are dealing with people who have lost the good of the intellect. Pray for them, certainly. But pray that they repent, not that they get clearer explanations of things they already know but refuse to admit -- such as, "You don't go around vandalizing what is not yours." It is right and just to be angered by Myers et al.'s assault on the Eucharist. Not all anger is sinful. But the purpose of anger is action, not desire for vengeance. Myers and Co. threaten violence against Him we hold most sacred. Catholics who threaten violence against Myers in return disgrace our Lord who forgave His murderers and, just as surely, extends forgiveness to Myers even as He fights him with the same goads with which He fought Saul of Tarsus. Our task is to realize that our principal audience is not Myers and his vicious crew, but all the onlookers in our culture, who want to know if there is any real difference between Catholics and Myers. Show them, by your actions, that there is. The world is watching. |
hope remains
07.27.08 (7:16 pm) [edit] | |
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hope remains
drinking deeply
my thirst still remains,
seeking,
I often still feel lost,
the finding?
well that is still to come,
in hope I wait,
though darkness
encroaches
No illusions
07.27.08 (8:21 am) [edit] | |
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No illusions
I had the honor of visiting a prison here in Atlanta, in order to give an informal talk. Marco, both a friend and a mentor was the go between. It was through him that I had the pleasure of meeting the Rev. John Smith, who was the one who extended the invitation. I met Marco off Old Peachtree Road, parked at the Publix parking lot, and drove with him the rest of the way.
Marco is a very intelligent, thoughtful and insightful man, whom I am grateful to have the honor of knowing. He is a true seeker and I have leaned a great deal from the times that I have been able to talk with him, which have unfortunately have been few and far between. He is also a mentor, for he is very encouraging and supportive in my fledging attempts at writing. He has been to the facility we were visiting a number of times, this was my first. In the past he was also one of the speakers. Over the years I have visited others prisons a number of times. Most of them were to visit an in-law who was incarcerated for transporting drugs across states lines. He was moved a couple of times, both within traveling distance, so I have had some limited exposure to that kind of environment He, his name was Ron, was in for three years, and believe me, three years in any kind of prison is a long time. He however deserved his punishment and served his time, and when he was released was never arrested again. So I had a little experience, though giving a talk was a first.
As we drove up the first thing I saw was the barbed wire that surrounded the facility. On top of the barbed wire was another kind of wire that was thicker and razor sharp, not sure what it is called, but no one was going to climb over that. The buildings reminded me of school, the lawns well manicured, the place had a feel of being very organized, clean, and yes somewhat new. We had to be searched before we went in, and the bars that opened up for us gave me the shivers.
When we finally got inside I could see that there were more prisoners than I thought would be present, but that was okay, the group was relaxed and it helped me to get over my speaking jitters, something I always have before I get in front of a group. They were all ages, the youngest, I found out later was 20 and was getting out soon, the oldest was probably in his sixties, though I am not sure.
As I looked out over the group I thought of the last judgment scene, were Jesus said: "I was in prison and you visited me". As I was thinking about that, the verse became alive, and I realized that the verse was not about me visiting, but about the prisoners themselves. The intimacy that God has with us is something that I have yet to comprehend, but the reality of Jesus the Christ being not merely present "within' those men, but actually was those men, went beyond any kind of mere intellectual formulation piously stated at times.
Jesus did say that he was found in the least, no he was the least, and I would imagine that at one time or another most of us would fall into the category for some. God became flesh, there are no boundaries with God, no one is outside that embrace; there is no outside. They, like me, are part of the body of Christ, for "whatever you do to the least, you do to me". It is often forgotten the revelation that Jesus brought, that intimacy that God has with us. On the cross he forgave those who tortured and killed him, so who is outside that forgiveness? Well we all have our list, but then those on the list, are in reality, the least, so Jesus indentifies with them. There is no escape from this lesson, a hard one indeed.
As I got up to speak, as they looked at me, they were just men, just like me. I was no different, for I know what is in my heart, and I also know what I am capable of, if pushed to an extreme. I am not saying that they do not deserve being there, it is just I am just like them. The saying often quoted "there but for the grace of God go I", is very true. Human dignity cannot be taken away, though we all are responsible for our actions, none are outside love's embrace or pursuit.
I could feel God's presence there in a powerful manner, it was a holy place, and the men there were seeking God, also they were leading lives of responsibility, seeking a better path. Christ is with them, one with them, walking with them, going before them, meeting them in their successes and failures, for God is all in all, and in Him we live and move and have our being.
There are levels of judgment, some are necessary, true, and at times we all benefit from the judgment of others. There are however other kinds of judgment that are destructive, to both the one receiving and also from the one bestowing. For we can close a person off, unable to see beyond whatever it is they have done, we brand them. This kind of judgment makes the other beyond redemption, marked, humanity taken away. Sort of what was done to Jesus; the ultimate scrape goat; it is this level of judgment that we are told not to do. Why? Well because I think we are lousy at it; at least I am, get it wrong, and in the end, a form of self judgment as well. So it is destructive all the way around.
It is possible to have no illusions about what we as a species are capable of and at the same time believe in the love God has for each of us. Especially the least, which at times we all are in someone's eyes, perhaps mostly in our own, for I think we are our own worst judge. Yet never in God's eyes, for the further away we feel, the closer Christ draws near. Just words, spatial images I know, which cannot even begin to express the mystery of God's love and presence within all that is; I find it frustrating. I just get glimpses and then it goes, so I struggle with this great mystery of "God with us", perhaps until the day I die.
"I was in prison and you visited me." Who is in prison, who is being visited, who are you and what am I?
A wall
07.26.08 (12:53 pm) [edit] | |
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A wall
Sometimes life takes on the texture of a low grade horror movie. With pain lurking deep below, felt, but numb; because of the depth from which it flows. Below, even deeper than this pain, seeking to crawl higher into the light of my conscious mind; yet somehow kept in tow is a wall of sorts, my protector. Strong, durable, lasting, dependable; perhaps it is a protection, the weak protected by the stronger. I have often believed that the reason horror movies are so popular, is because they create a safe environment to see our fears without having to face them. For movies come to an end, the lights come on, and we leave. Yet what the movies show us continues to exist deep within.
We now live in a world filled with horrors, at least it seems so, but this is because of the instant communication that is now available. Most of us have front row seats, sitting before our TV’s or computers, oh yes, and our radios; just like in the movies. Being shown horror from a safe distance, then able to switch channels or simply turn whatever apparatus we are using, off.
I suppose most are aware, that many of today’s observers will become tomorrow’s participants in the horror parade, filmed fresh, live, for mass consumption. It is like we are each waiting our turn of unholy fame, though best not to think about it. It is of course not all bad, actually most is good our lives. Yet pain, death and the aftermath paints a pall over everything, muting the vivid beauty of life.
I can have faith and also hope and still feel deeply the seeming absurdity of life in bold colors, or deep grays. It is just something that has to be faced and gotten through. So in the midst of the horror, absurdity and pain of life, there can be joy…….also deep, deeper even than the horror dimly felt, yet joy is beneath it all. I doubt it is the deepest level, for joy flows from love, something so powerful that if experienced before it’s time would shatter everything, so it is the deepest.
Love is patient, love is kind, it surrounds all of us in our pain, horror and the ever deepening understanding of the absurdity of all our scurrying, fighting and in the end, much of what is the very heart of our cultures; yet we are loved.
To some a fool’s dream, for other’s a lived reality, others still, neither believed in nor thought about, so it goes. We all stumble, it takes courage to get up, and perhaps that is the most important thing to do.
Simply get up.
Dear friend
07.24.08 (4:21 pm) [edit]
Dear friend
The day went swiftly as we made our way, visiting friends and just talking about whatever came to mind. You charmed them all by your simplicity and wit, for the love you showed to all we came upon. Baloney sandwiches for lunch, mushroom soup to wash it down, and of course a Coke on the side, sitting pretty in its sweating glass. Then off again to another visit, more friends, you have so many, it tires me at times. So we arrived, and I relaxed, watching reruns of “charmed” losing myself in the world of magic at least for awhile. Dinner, steak, hotdogs, baked potato, and yes once again Coke. So American the way we ate that day, and yes the laughter and poking of fun, it was a grand time. Too soon the visit will be over, perhaps this you’re last, for you being 80 I can see you aging before my eyes. You are at peace, this helps, for I know because of your health, the end cannot be far away. I treasure the time, I do not take you for granted, for time is etched over you face, your body, and your talk of death, so no I cannot take you for granted dear friend.
un-formed
07.22.08 (5:06 pm) [edit] | |
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un-formed
tears and anguish follow us all in one form or another,
also joy, love and pleasure, grace our days,
friendship and betrayal in the plays of our lives,
a dark forming force deeply felt,
each playing one role and then the other,
mask changed,
yet in the end when it is all said and done,
the mystery remains, the simple why-ness of things remains unsolved,
faith for some allows light on the path,
others have none for the choice is theirs,
in the end perhaps each path necessary,
for the depth of who we are,
what we are,
are still un-mined
perhaps the riches never uncovered
at least on our pilgrimage,
for the un-named,
that which is un-formed,
is our destiny.
Stretch
07.21.08 (9:35 am) [edit] | |
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Stretch
Some of the most frequently said prayers of Christians are said for the collective whole, yet on the other hand we are often quick to send the vast majority of people to hell. The older I get, the less this makes sense to me and perhaps I am not alone in this, well I know I am not alone. When praying the "Our Father" for example the prayer is in the plural, not the singular, it is not for personal needs alone, nor is the prayer just for loved ones; no it is said for all of mankind. Each person saying this beautiful prayer is a representative before God for all of humanity. We pray for the "forgiveness of our trespasses". We also pray "our daily bread". It is all ‘we'. If this is so, why are we so quick to consign the majority of mankind to hell? I know the scriptures can be quoted to bolster this belief, but in the end, scriptures can be found to pretty much strengthen just about anything. Racist will often use the Holy Book to back up their claims for racial superiority, and even for slavery. So I guess one can pretty much find what they are looking for, if the scriptures are reduced to a certain line up of text.
When Jesus taught the ‘Our Father', he was not teaching it to Christian's, no it was Jews of course, and I would imagine people of other religions, yet he taught them all. Perhaps it would be good to try to stretch our understanding of what Jesus was trying to impart by his teaching. I am not sure he wanted to just find another group, hating and condemning those outside. That is simply a very common thing for us humans to do. Perhaps that is our root sin, making others outside, worthy of death or worse. If God is love then it is a mystery that can't ever be gotten to the bottom of, yet we make God into another human, just bigger, and at times bad-er.
Atheists do this also, why shouldn't they, they are human after all. They go to the scriptures for a very specific reason, and they find everything they want, in order to criticize the beliefs of theist of all strips, who use the Bible as a source of spiritual insight. You can't separate the observer, or reader, from the text, they are one and it is an intimate relationship. This is true of anything of course. I think the saying: "one man's meat, is another man's poison", pretty much says it all.
If Christ came to save, why do many insist on believing that God created an economy of salvation, in which the greatest possible numbers of people are lost, merely because they had the bad luck in being born in a place where they would not hear the Gospel? Or even more common, the message made hateful by the very people who should be living it. If the majority of mankind was created merely to be damned, then perhaps we should re-look at the belief that God is love, or even just, for that matter. Perhaps one reason Christianity has not done much to better the world is because unconsciously, we really believe that most people are cosmic trash, already dammed in God's sight, so perhaps real love simply not there? For if God hates the majority of mankind, why should we not do it? For are we not made in God's image and likeness. Though I think it is turned around, we make God in our own image and fragmented and shattered likeness.
Hell ultimately points to mankind's freedom, the emphasis is on freedom. Grace is grace, and I doubt that it only came into being at Christ birth. A revelation is something new to those who hear it, but that does not mean that what was revealed has not always been at work in mankind. The New Testament points to the desire of God that all be saved; for as St. Paul says, "God wills the salvation of all men"; what does that mean? So again, why would we believe that the majority are dammed? I have talked to Christians who believe that hell is filled with good people, loving people; they were just not believers the way they believed. I have a friend who believes that all the Jews murdered by Hitler are now in hell. I know Catholics who believe that all non-Catholic's are in hell; in fact they believe that even most of their Catholic brothers and sisters are with them (non-Catholics) in eternal torment; of course they are exempt. Why is it so easy to think that God who is revealed as love would do something like that. For them hell is not a choice, it is simply a bit of bad luck, belonging to the wrong church, or again having the bad luck of being born in the wrong place, or seeking and loving God in the wrong religion. Of course there are many non-Catholics who think that I am dammed. Making me an idol worshipper who follows the Pope, who is really the anti-Christ, the whore of Babylon, bringing into the world the reign of Satan; who thinks I can somehow win my salvation by good works alone. Which is funny, since the Catholic Church has always taught the divinity of Christ, and is in fact the mother of all Christian believers. The scriptural canon was also created by the Catholic Church in the 3rd century. So it is funny that many use the very scriptures put together by the Catholic Church, to prove its existence as an evil force in the world. Such ignorance is overwhelming, mind numbing, and based on a deep ignorance of their history, which is bound closely with the Catholic Church.
The letters in the New Testament were written to deal with certain problems within the different communities of the early church, yet people insist that if it is not in the scriptures then it can't be part of Christianity. So for many, the sacraments are thrown out and each is left to their own devices to deal with whatever the Holy Spirit is telling them. I guess each becomes infallible in ways that no pope would even begin to claim. Of course the Catholic Church brought the reformation about by its own inner corruption, and its refusal to turn back to the Gospel message. The reformation in the long run helped the church, too bad it had to wait until it was too late; the break to this day, is a scandal to those within and those without.
Perhaps it is in prayer where we can come together, for we all pray to the same Lord, we belong to one body, and truly when we pray as Christians, with Christ, we all represent mankind, in all of its need for mercy and healing. If we began to show the world the compassion of Christ and stopped using the scriptures to back up some private theology, often based on a myopic understanding of God, who becomes merely a projection of our own broken and fallen humanity (an idol), perhaps some progress could be made. Until that happens, we will be mocked not for our faith in Christ, but because of ignorance and a narrow minded stance, that is self created and not enlightened by the love and of the Holy Spirit. Conversion is a constant, both for the church as a whole and for each individual in particular.
Until we learn that Christ is truly in the least. Which for each of us that would mean I imagine someone different. Until then, we are treading water. For in not deepening our understanding of what that means, we miss the whole point of what Christ was trying to do. To lead us into loving our neighbor as ourselves, and to truly see Christ not only in others, but as truly being one with them, identifying with them. For to condemn those outsides is one of the most common human propensities we have. Believers of all strips do this as will as non-believers. Its fruit is contempt, which leads to a de-humanization of others and violence is not far away. Sin means we are free, yet also prone to take the easiest way, and that way is the opposite of what Christ taught and in fact what other people of different faiths are also taught. We have much in common with all people of good will, for the work of God's Spirit cannot be limited to just any one religion or theology, for in God we live and move and have our being. To grow in depth of understanding does not in anyway affect doctrine, it just changes limiting perspectives.
Remiss
07.20.08 (10:42 am) [edit] | |
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Remiss
Time goes by, the days filled with responsibilities and things to do that at times something very important can be put on the back burner. I suppose for the last eight months or so I have done that with Aldo. He has now been in the nursing home for a year, or perhaps a little bit more, and I simply stopped dropping by to see how he was doing and to spend time with him. He has no family and I have known him for 35 years so he deserves better from me. I am not proud of that, it shows a deep insensitivity I can have towards others when it suits me. For I have no excuse since the home is near, and I pass it often. Laziness can be a obstacle many times to causing others pain, that can easily be ameliorated.
Pattie and Michael are very faithful towards Aldo; they are a caring and loving couple. They take care of his financial needs; make sure that what needs to be paid to the nursing home is transacted out of his Medicare check. He is allowed to keep a small amount for personal needs. They both make sure that he has enough changes in his clothing, and any other needs he asks for. They also intercede for him if any problems arise. Pattie is very good with detail and is an excellent administrator. Michael is very good in making sure that Aldo’s rights are respected, and will speak up if the need arises; they are a good team. So unlike me, they have been faithful all these long months.
So I decided to do something about it, and visited him yesterday. He is in a nice nursing home, which is also a rehabilitation hospital, for those who need to stay a short time to get their strength built up. It is clean, the food I hear is good, and Aldo after a hard beginning has learned to actually like it there. It has become familiar, a home of sorts.
As I entered his room, for two, both occupants were asleep. I was not sure if I should wake him, but I decided to, since Pattie has told me that he loves having visitors anytime during the day. I also at Pattie’s request brought him a small, regular hamburger, from McDonalds. So I woke him and when he opened his eyes his eyes lit up and he gave me the most beautiful smile. He sat up and gave me a big hug. It almost brought me to tears seeing how happy he was to see me, when I in fact have not been there for so many months. I showed him the hamburger and went and got a knife so I could cut it up for him; he has no teeth. So I got the knife, cut it up, and he ate it. He loves hamburgers, probably more than William does, and I could tell he enjoyed the one I brought him. When finished I took him out to the court yard for a chat. He was glad to get outside. We went around the square and he told me how much he loved the flowers that where growing there. There was a man there with his mother, and they seemed to be having a very good time talking and laughing. She was one of the lucky ones who had regular visits from her family.
We did not talk about much, it was not needed for we have known each other for so long, but he did ask how things were going with me and my work. I ask him if he was happy, and he said, he was a peace, though he would like to get out a little bit more. So we talked about that. Where I work, we have a wheel chair van, and it could be used for an outing, and told him that I would work on it. He also told me that Michael and Pattie where going to get him out also. Last Christmas he went to their house, and Pattie told me it was a very good experience for Aldo.
After about fifteen minutes outside I could tell Aldo was starting to get tired, so we went back inside. In the foyer I noticed an older man, most likely in his eighties sitting with a woman his age, or perhaps a little older. I stopped to chat for a bit and asked him how he was doing. He had a very gentle smile and said he was fine. He was here visiting his sister who was in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s and really did not know much anymore. I could tell that he was at peace about that, but also loved his sister very much. For even though she did not know him, he still would come faithfully and simply set with her in silence and that seemed to be enough for him. I told him that she was still in there and perhaps more aware than she could manifest to him. So his visits were helping her. He smiled sadly and thanked me. I doubt he believed what I was saying, and perhaps he is right. However I have learned to act as if they could understand me, for some days there is more awareness than others.
There was also a resident who was going up and down the corridor singing, and doing it very well, it was haunting and beautiful, sort of like when William does his chanting or singing. Aldo as we passed by told her how pretty her singing was and she gave him a big smile and said: “yes I love to sing, it gives me joy”. Well I am sure because it was so beautiful it also gave joy to others.
We went into the TV room for awhile. Since it was near lunch time there were only three people there. Two residents and one other visitor, both of the residents, chair bound. One of them was very friendly and introduced herself as “Lena”, she had on a very colorful outfit, bright gold.......I guess she was probably in her late seventies or early eighties. She thought she was somewhere else waiting for a meeting to start. She talked to me like she knew me, and I guess she was reliving some past episode in her life. So I played along for a bit, until Aldo asked to taken back to his room.
I could tell he wanted to lie back down for about 45 minutes before lunch, so I helped him in bed. Before I left I apologized for not being more faithful in my visits and promised that I would do better in the future. Just before I left he asked me a question, one I think he was saving up to ask, perhaps because he was afraid of the answer. He asked me: “Mark, when will I be able to go back to my apartment”? I paused for a bit not sure what I should tell him. He seemed clear, so I decided to treat him like a adult, which he is, and a very strong one, for his life has been very difficult, yet he has survived a great deal. So I sat down, took his hands into mine, paused again and said: “Aldo, you had a stroke, your left side is very weak, you can’t take care of yourself and your are 73 years old. So the answer is you will be here for the long haul and I hope you can find peace with that”. He looked down, then when he looked up he was smiling, probably more for my benefit, for I know at times he really misses his apartment. “Being old is not easy Aldo, but I promise that I will not forget to visit you again, and Pattie and Michael will also remain faithful to you”. I think that helped him a bit. I felt kind of empty but also smiled, more for his benefit than mine; so we took care of each other in our smiles. I gave him a kiss on his forehead, hugged him and told him that I loved him and will be back soon.
At times I know I have deep sadness, and probably near tears more often than I am aware of, but I am so out of touch with certain emotions that others pick up and not me, when I am going through them. I do know that I left with a determination to visit this dear man, who has just a few friends who can relieve him from the deep loneliness that I am sure he goes through. I can’t help everyone, but the ones I can, I need to take more seriously.
I don’t think I ever do anything from a pure motive and if I have, well only God knows about it. I was taking care of myself just as much as I was Aldo when I visited him; which was predominant I have no idea. I am not sure it matters. The growth in compassion has to be worked on and the compulsive side of it has to be watched. In any case a kind of stretching is always needed. I am trying to stretch a bit, for self absorption is much easier state to move into than one that is based on compassion and empathy. Of course I am only speaking for myself, for I am sure I am far from the best in the area of reaching out to others. That is also ok, for growth is slow, grace works with my nature, which wobbles a bit more than others I think.
the short of it
07.19.08 (7:37 pm) [edit] | |
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time flies,
days rush by,
years are a blur,
you can't hold on to a second,
take nothing for granted
for life turnes on a dime;
so live,
love,
listen,
it will be worth it,
all else is dross worthless in the end
for what we take with us
is love,
all else is burned away.
My struggle
07.19.08 (9:31 am) [edit]
The struggle
I suppose one of my greatest struggles is to free myself from what others think or feel about me. This has been something that I have worked with from childhood and am not sure actually how much progress I have made in this matter. Like most people, I would like to be understood, my intentions known, and not to be second guessed. I often find myself dealing with deep anger when I feel that I am being misjudged, for again justice is something that we would all like to receive. Emotions can be so powerful that the rational process can be overwhelmed and in the end anger and bitterness can be the fruit. Strong emotions overly focus, making a point view infallible, not allowing other ways of seeing a situation in. In the end any kind of communication can be made impossible if some degree of listening cannot be achieved on both sides.
I have been on both sides of the above equation. The one going into attack mode, when I perceive something being done that I think is unfair, or unjust. I see red, my defenses for the one I think being treated unfairly come into play big time and I can do or say things I regret later. Over the years I have learned to try to listen to the other side, with greater or lesser success, and more times than not balance is restored; though not always of course. Usually my anger comes from not knowing the whole situation, hearing only one side of it, and to put it bluntly, my authority issues are deep and enduring; at times causing grief to those who are my superiors.
When I am on the receiving end, when anger is directed at me for some decision I have made, I have found something that helps me to understand the other better. I simply realize that I have done the same thing in the past, and try to see how I would want to be treated in this situation. I don’t always succeed of course, but it does help. All the judgments I tend to direct toward those who are in conflict with me, are things that I do myself. I can jump to conclusions before I have all the facts. There have been times when I have been grossly unfair to those in authority because of my own need to take care and defend others; a cycle that I still can get me into.
It is hard to be objective. Well it may be impossible, but that does not mean that liberates me from the intent to at least try, when I am on either end of the equation. I know however that there will be times when perhaps few understand the why of my decisions, and that even after listening to their objections; I will have to stay on track, and try not to be sucked into angry exchanges. Something very difficult for me, for I have more fire in me than water I think. I have to realize that when others make choices, I have to accept the fact that I will not always understand either. There are some human situations in which no agreement can be reached.
Storms pass, the waves become placid, and life goes on. Freedom from me trying to control the world, and from allowing what others might think to control me, is a tight rope that perhaps I will walk for the rest of my days; no wonder I am tired much of the time. For to worry over much about that will prevent me from making needed decisions, that if not made, can cause greater chaos down the road. When in the position of leadership, no matter how small, one has to be able to stand up and take the brunt of what one decides to do. Not to do so, is to let down those under ones charge, and in the end to merely take care of ones emotional fears and needs.. If that can' t be done, doing what is necessary; then responsibility for others should not be taken. Having authority over others has heavy responsibilities.
Fear is a terrible emotion to give into, for little by little it takes away the ability to do what is right, causing the world to become smaller and smaller; corners are a very tight place to maneuver from. For in the end, not to do the necessary, will only make matters worse. It is short sighted and at times, it is the innocent who suffer the most. At least from my experience, for others this may not be so. Fear for me is a challenge to step up, go over the line, stretch, and in the end, see that one comes out all right. If not, well that is ok also. Life can seem to be a crap shoot at times, but it only seems that way.
I have a very long way to go in this and may never get to the point of equanimity in this matter and perhaps I shouldn’t. For to lose self doubt should also be something to be avoided, for at times I will have to admit that I may be mistaken and in fact the reactions of others justified. I wish life was simpler, that communication was easy, that there was no gossip, that life is always fair and that all my decisions will always be right on target; but it is not that way. There is a lot of chaos, the best that one can do, is to do ones best, and move on from there. Also to understand that misunderstandings are the norm not the exception
No closure
07.18.08 (6:16 pm) [edit] | |
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talk
no one listens,
pressure builds slowly,
talk,
again ignored,
so more inner rage builds,
talk,
insulted,
no closure,
pressure builds every more quickly,
blessed release,
suffering comes later,
all because
of no closure.
Best to listen me thinks.
At times
07.18.08 (12:12 pm) [edit]
At times
There are some situations in which the human conditions is experienced in all of its angst and pain. At times communication just cannot be achieved; an impasse is reached, even if both sides have good will. Some times it is simply too much emotion, at others it could be cultural, and then, well, it just happens with no reason involved at all. Sometimes language just can’t bridge the divide.
Letting go of such predicaments can be very difficult, at times impossible, for we have an inbuilt need to be heard and understood. So when this cannot happen it can drive some to distraction. When in fact what is needed is to simply admit limitations and move on.
Amazing, how something so difficult, can sound so easy and simple.
For the one outside looking in, perhaps it looks easy. However for those involved it can be a maze than cannot be figured out, leading to ever growing frustration, each side blaming the other, when in fact at times there is no blame at all.
what do you say
07.17.08 (3:42 pm) [edit] | |
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what do you say?
when tragedy comes home to roost,
taking it's rest among what is left,
chards only black as midnight,
beauty gone forever below the sod,
the gaping inner void it leaves behind,
bleeding wounds that will never really heal;
what do you say?
clichés is all that can roll out,
for gentle words do little to heal,
yet what else is there when arctic blast come
numbing the heart as it beats within,
perhaps never to become flesh again?
the cold lonely road most of us will walk,
more than once,
a sure truth for the many.
little comfort for those on the way,
yet life goes on as it always has,
we simply endure for a time,
until then,
it is we who are mourned
when our time comes.
In the least
07.16.08 (8:19 am) [edit] | |
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In the least
So when lifting up your heart, remember, Christ prays in you, with you, and you being in the Body of Christ, you become Christ by grace. Why do you think he is to be found in the least? Because the lover of mankind s one with his beloved, which is all of mankind.
It is often hard to see, but when we pray the Our Father, we pray for everyone, past, present, and future, for truly we are all called to pray for those all the way back, and those who will live in the distant future. For in prayer, we enter “God’s time”, which is “no time”, for all is present ‘now’ before the loving and compassionate eyes of God.
Because of our human nature, we place limits on God’s love, and we use the scripture to prove that, often pointing fingers at those we believe outside. Placing themselves there by there lives, at least the way we judge their lives. Well none are outside, for the Word became flesh, so all of humanity is holy in his sight. We are told not to judge the spiritual lives of others because it is not our business; it is God’s work. We are called upon to allow his love to inflame our often rock hard hearts, to become (slowly for some, faster for others), hearts of flesh. Filled only with His love for others; seeing with the eyes of the Spirit, into the soul of our neighbors, not limiting them to superficial observation, unable to see below the surface, into the heart of the matter. Our hearts should become living flames of love. We forget that on the cross Christ forgave all by saying “Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing’. Something new came with Christ, are we showing that newness, or are we just ‘disking’ others.
Hell is a place where the self creation of sin rules, chosen freely by those who live there. Each an inner isolated kingdom to themselves. It is an act of freedom, and only God knows who has made it. Dealing with numbers has no meaning. For God who is infinite love, any number is too many.
So pray for all, see Christ in all, love all, and well when of course we fail, admit it and get back up. For it is grace, the grace of Christ which calls us, get up, get up! Christ knows our hearts, sees all, more than we do, yet he calls us all out of love. None our outside, unless they freely do so with their will, it is truly a choice, and not some kind of nightmare for mankind, which is what we often make Christ message. Christ came to save us from our own self destruction, sin its fruit, not from God.
The infinite
The infinite is simply that.
It is not something bigger or more than human,
it is infinite,
it is not like the ocean,
for the ocean has a bottom,
the infinite can be scary,
yet it is manifested as love,
so trust,
fear and trust cannot co-exist go together.
Love cast out fear
so you tell me
07.15.08 (5:05 pm) [edit]
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so you tell me
so you tell me that you know,
who has got it
who has not,
quoting some verse
as if it explains everything,
making the mystery flat,
uninteresting,
boring,
so,
when I look down,
embarrassed by this childish stance,
you scream
and I don't know what to do,
so I look down again
until you simply stop,
arguing about such things a waste,
something I have learned long ago,
the world is full of those with all the answers,
it is refreshing to meet
someone who admits the truth,
we simply don’t know,
nor are we supposed to,
seeking is what we do,
what I feel or intuit we are made for.
An extended of family live
07.15.08 (8:22 am) [edit] | |
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An extended episode of family life
I am the 3rd of 11 children. There are 10 of us still living. The youngest being 49, the oldest 67, and for the most part we are all in decent health. Michael, who was the 10th of 11, died in 1958 three days after birth. He was three months premature and back in those days it was common for preemies to die. I remember sitting on the bed with my mom, who had just come back from the hospital. We talked about it, and at the time, it did not really register for I was just 9 years old, and did not fully understand the loss for my mother, or for that matter, the loss for all of us. As I get older, that loss from time to time comes to the surface, each time my understanding deepening of the tragedy of loosing a sibling, and the hole that can leave; at least for me. I find this strange, missing someone I never saw, touched or bounded with.
Skip the oldest, was from my mothers first marriage, which ended quickly in divorce. Her first husband was abusive towards her, but only once, she soon got out of that situation. Mom worked in a restaurant called ‘Parkmore’, a chain that was popular in St. Louis in the 40’s. She worked there with Freda her sister for a few years during the war, and for a time after. Both my mother and Freda where classic beauties and I am sure that they had their share of suitors, who vied for their attention. Both of them had long black hair, blue eyes and sun sensitive skin. My mother told me that she liked working there, and during the war they would work all day, and go out at night, bowling or dancing. “It was more innocent back then” she would tell me, “just fun”, nothing else.
My mother caught my dad’s attention and tried to get to know her personally, but at that time my mother was still nervous about getting serious with another man. She was still trying to get over her first marriage. The abuse she suffered, though it was not prolonged in any way, did make her wary of men. Necia, who was the manager of the restaurant, told my mother that my father was a good man and would not hurt her in any way. So she allowed my dad in, they dated, married, and well as you know; 11 loaves popped out of the oven. My mother used to tell me. “Mark, all your dad has to do is look at me, and I get pregnant”. My mom told me that she loved being pregnant, she always felt better when carrying a child and child birth; at least the first 9 children, were not very difficult. In fact I was born on the farm in Missouri, no problem. The last two were cesarean.
There were 7 boys and 4 girls total. Skip, Robert, Mark (me), David, Sissy, Judy and Jane (twins), Victor, Craig, Michael (deceased), and Georgia. Life could be chaotic, loud, with lots of fighting and screaming at one another. Yet there was also a lot of love; the fighting, which is normal among siblings and I feel necessary, never hid that fact. There was never much privacy, unless one went inward, which I did with a vengeance when young, but as the years sped by, I had to change. In a large family being quiet and withdrawn is not a good idea, nope not one bit. It was good to be drawn out, and I learned to speak up and fight for what was mine and boy did the bothers fight.
Skip was the oldest, my mother’s first, who was also 6 years older than my father’s first. So he had a hard time of it. He was the designated baby sitter for us, and when he was a teenager he pretty much had to drag some of us around with him when he went out with a couple of friends. I always felt a little sorry for him having to do that all the time, but being the oldest has certain responsibilities attached to it, and he being so much older, they were probably heavier than they could have been.
In St. Louis, my dad worked for the phone company, but as the family grew, the money he made was not enough so he struck out on his own. He bought a gas station in East St Louis, in a very rough neighborhood. From time to time he would take us there to spend some time with him. Robert, David and me would go on weekends and spend the day with Dad and Skip, who also worked there part time, without pay of course. My dad was not a good businessman, for he was too kind, and would give gas to some of his clients knowing that they would not be able to pay. They needed gas to get to work, and my dad would give it them. I am sure some took advantage of him, but I am proud of him for doing that anyway. In the end the gas station was not supporting us very well.
In early 1958, my mother noticed a ad for a job opening in Panama, for a cable splicer; which was what my dad was. She so sent it in and my dad after a short time was notified that he got the job. He balked, but my mother ever the realist let him know what his options were. Bankruptcy here, or a new life there in Panama; so he went.
He had to go down before we did to prepare everything. It was very difficult when he had to leave, it was almost like he died, but we knew we would see him soon. While we waited we had to get shots, lots of them. Yellow fever, malaria, tetanus, and some others, but being so young I did not know all of them. So off we went to an army base to get our shots. Since my dad now worked for the army, we were able to get medical care for free. I can still remember the large waiting room, waiting for my doom, for I feared shots at that young age. The thought of a large needle going into my arm was not pleasant in the least. So I decided I would go first and simply get it over with. That way I could laugh at the other nine as they went to their doom. So when the nurse came out I asked to please allow me to go first. I think what I really did was to jump up and down and say “me first, me first”. She did look at me kind of funny, but allowed me to go in before the others. I had a good time laughing at the others who were still afraid, while I was way past it, it was fun. Best to get the bad stuff over with as quick as possible, why put it off, over the hump, then smooth sailing, at least until the next one, which will always show up sooner or later.
The doctor told my mom that our arms would be very sore, and we may feel a little sick for a day or two. So she put all 8 of us, skip was too big, being 17 to be with us, in her and dad’s bed room. So we stayed in the big bed, fought each other, cried, whined, ate ice cream and watched lots of TV, also no school….so all in all, a good time was had by all.
The trip to Panama took I think three days. We had to make lots of connecting flights, so my mother and poor Skip had their hands full during that time. It started in the St. Louis airport. We were running around, excited, hyper, screaming, and running down the up escalator, an up the down one. Of course we had to make a million trips to the bath room, wanting everything in sight. So much new stuff to look at, it was really overwhelming. Of course add to that a bit of anxiety, caffeinated soda, plus chocolate candy and what do you get: children who act like kangaroos on speed.
On the plane, we were most likely crashing, so we were quiet. I remember how bad my ears hurt, and the stewardess passing out gum for people to chew on, to help pop their ears. I also entertained myself by not trying to get air sick, which I had very limited luck with. After my third bag, the stewardess just put a pile of them in the pouch in the back of the seat in front of me. I was really ready to get off the plane when we landed. The air sickness lessened after that, I just filled two bags per flight on the next three planes.
We stayed at a military base for one night. We had joining rooms, and again, poor Skip in charge. I remember a meal of hamburgers and french fries, which always seemed to taste better when a child, lots and lots of fries. Today still one of my favorite’s foods, fries, I have been know to eat a pound of them from time to time. I think they will be the death of me.
We arrived in Panama on the 8th of December 1958, and I fell in love with it as soon as I got off the plane. Though the air was a bit more humid than what I was used to, but everything was so green and pleasant. I loved the jungle, the homes, some of them high up on stilts, and the people were very interesting with their bajan Jamaican accents. The trip over to the Atlantic side was 50 miles, a long way in that country, since the speed limits was impossibly slow, yet the scenery was so exotic that I did not noticed the time at all. I liked out home, the neighborhood, everything. The stress was also much less since my dad had a very good job and was an excellent and intelligent worker. He eventually became the one in charge of the Atlantic side department for Telephones, for the army that is. Another plus, my nightmares ended. For years I used to have nightmares every night. B movie type; with green fog, music, and of course the beloved zombies who tried to get me, and poor me running in the cold dark, dank, dastardly woods, trying to get away with no one to help me. Nope they ended the day we arrived. So much less stress, no snow, which I always hated, just a nice safe place to live.
Except for school, which I always found a bother; life in Panama was like living in a Huckleberry Finn novel. Jungle, swimming, lots of animals to keep as pets, yes it was truly a paradise for children; and also for my parents. I know my Mother loved it down there. I have no idea what would have become of us if we stayed in the States, and I am glad I did not have to find out. The finding of the ad, seemed almost providential, or perhaps it was.
Evidence We Know Information Without Using the Brain
07.14.08 (6:46 pm) [edit] 
Evidence We Know Information Without Using the Brain
A large number of studies have demonstrated that people can know information without having any contact with what they have learned about. From the 1880s to the 1940s, there were 142 published articles describing 3.6 million individual trials with 4,600 people attempting to identify the number and suit of a playing card face down in front of them. In addition, ESP tests performed on the radio added 70,000 participants to the database. The studies were performed at over two dozen universities around the world by hundreds of respected professors.36
The result was that participants were, on average, able to identify the cards at rates higher than chance. They knew information they could not have received unless their minds were able to obtain it without using the body. The results prompted Professor H. J. Eysenck, chairman of the Psychology Department at the University of London, to write in 1957,
Unless there is a gigantic conspiracy involving some thirty University departments all around the world, and several hundred highly respected scientists in various fields, many of them originally hostile to the claims of the psychical researchers, the only conclusion the unbiased observer can come to must be that there does exist a small number of people who obtain knowledge existing either in other people’s minds, or in the outer world, by means as yet unknown to science.37
A Unified Visual Image in Our Mind Can't Be Accounted for with Just Using Brain Neurons.
The fact that we can see without using the eyes indicates that no signals come to the brain, and yet the mind sees. That means the brain may not be involved in the process at all. That is predicted from other research. Studies of the brain fail to show how the light waves entering the eye can come together in the brain to form a complete image.
John Eccles, Nobel Prize winner in the study of the physiology of the nervous system, wrote Facing Reality: philosophical adventures of a brain scientist. In it, he explains that when we see using the eyes, the light enters the eye and turns into nerve impulses in the retina that travel along the optic nerve to the brain. However, when they arrive there, they are fragmented and sent to different areas of the brain. Science can find nothing in the brain that is able to bring the visual experience together. Eccles writes that the only explanation is that there must be a conscious mind outside of the brain that influences the brain and makes patterns using it.
The mind outside the brain apparently sends a willed action to the brain and the brain transmits to the mind a conscious experience, whole.38
Blind People, Whose Brains Cannot Process Sight Images, Are Able to See During Near-Death and Out-of-Body Experiences.
Blind people, including those blind from birth, can actually see during near-death experiences (NDEs) and out-of-the-body experiences (OBEs), suggesting that their minds must be independent of their bodies, which are unable see. Kenneth Ring, Ph.D., professor emeritus of psychology at the University of Connecticut, and Sharon Cooper interviewed 31 blind and sight-impaired persons who had NDEs and OBEs, and found that 80 percent of them reported correctly "visual" experiences, some in detail. For example, they reported correctly actual colors and their surroundings. One patient who had become totally blind after having been sighted for at least 40 years "saw" the pattern and colors on a new tie during an out of body experience, even though everyone denied having ever described it to him. The results of the two-year research study were published in the book Mindsight.39
Dr. Larry Dossey, former chief of staff of Medical City Dallas Hospital, describes this case of a woman who had been blind from birth being able to see clearly during her near-death experience:
The surgery had gone smoothly until the late stages of the operation. Then something happened. As her physician was closing the incision, Sarah’s heart stopped beating. . . . [When she awoke, Sarah had] a clear, detailed memory of the frantic conversation of the surgeons and nurses during her cardiac arrest; the [operating room] layout; the scribbles on the surgery schedule board in the hall outside; the color of the sheets covering the operating table; the hairstyle of the head scrub nurse; the names of the surgeons in the doctors’ lounge down the corridor who were waiting for her case to be concluded; and even the trivial fact that her anesthesiologist that day was wearing unmatched socks. All this she knew even though she had been fully anesthetized and unconscious during the surgery and the cardiac arrest.
But what made Sarah’s vision even more momentous was the fact that, since birth, she had been blind.40
It appears that Sarah’s mind was seeing when her body was unable to see, both because she was unconscious and blind since birth.
People Rendered Temporarily Blind Are Able to Locate Thing s on a Computer Screen.
Blindsight is the ability to see without normal use of the eyes. In studies when people were made blind temporarily, they were still able to locate things on a computer screen. The author of the study, Tony Ro, a psychology professor at Rice University in Houston, has no explanation for the remarkable finding, but accepts that some alternative way of "seeing" is available to the brain. "These findings demonstrate that while certain brain areas are necessary for awareness, there is extensive processing of information that takes place unconsciously." He said these are results "suggesting the existence of alternate visual processing routes that function unconsciously . . ."41
The findings seem to fit with the others presented here demonstrating that seeing doesn’t require eyes or the use of our brain.
Blind People Perform Actions and Describe Colors ;that Show Visi on.
David Linden, professor of neuroscience at Johns Hopkins University, found that if the visual cortex is damaged, people will assert that they cannot see anything, but when asked to pick up an object in an unknown location within reach, many can do so on the first try. They also can judge an emotional expression on a face, especially anger, more often than chance would predict they would. He suggests that signals from the eyes could go to a mid-brain area where they’re processed even though the primary visual area is not operating. However, there is no agreement about it and no convincing evidence of it.42
Lawrence Weiskrantz, Emeritus Professor of Psychology at Oxford University and recipient of the William James Fellow Award 1992 by the Association for Psychological Science, summarized the research showing that patients with lesions in their primary visual cortex, rendering them blind, are able to perceive colors and motion:
Previous research has reported that blindsight patients can retain the ability to detect monochromatic light and grating stimuli, and to discriminate orientation and direction of movement in their "blind" fields. These findings have been joined by reports that these patients also are sensitive to, and are able to discriminate, wavelength in the absence of any experience of "colour". This reveals that retinal pathways other than those to the striate cortex are crucially involved in vision.43
In all of these instances, the researchers suggest that some form of vision is left to bring signals from the eyes to the brain, although no such alternatives have been discovered. However, these findings fit with the suggestion that the eyes are not necessary to seeing.
"Echolocation" Experiments Show Blind People Can See& nbsp;without Physical Eyeballs.
Another phenomenon, called "echolocation," also seems to show that blind people can "see" objects in their environment even when they can’t use their optical organs. In echolocation, the blind person makes sounds by tapping, clicking, or speaking, and while doing so, is able to walk or even ride a bicycle through an environment filled with obstacles. The assumption has been that the blind person hears the echoes of the sounds reflected back from objects in the environment and can interpret the sounds to identify the objects.
Ben Underwood, who lost his sight to cancer as a toddler, has two artificial eyes made of plastic. However, he walks without a cane or seeing-eye dog, plays video games, and identifies objects he passes by name: "That’s a fire hydrant" or "That’s a trash can." In a pillow fight, he can throw a pillow to hit a target person even when the person is moving and silent.44
Researchers know that the brain is active when a blind person is "seeing" using echolocation:
Scientists have discovered that in the brains of the blind, the visual cortex has not become useless, as they once believed. When blind people use another sense—touch or hearing, for example—to substitute for sight, the brain's visual cortex becomes active, even though no images reach it from the optic nerve. Echolocation creates its own images.45
The fact that the brain is active when the optical organs are not functioning fits with the suggestion made by some researchers that the brain may act rather like a television set that becomes active when a signal comes to it, but does not produce the signal. Larry King isn't in the television.
Researchers have studied echolocation to try to determine how the blind can see to navigate and have concluded that it must be due to a sonar effect (hearing sounds bounce off of objects and judging their shape and distance from the sounds). However, the actions of blind people using echolocation defy the possibility that it could be due simply to a sonar effect. Ben Underwood, who has two plastic eyes, can perform feats such as hitting a target with a pillow at distances too far for hearing to be echoed back when the target is silent. He can identify objects too far away for him to receive echoes when he is simply making clicking sounds. He rides a bike without hitting obstacles, at speeds that preclude receiving sonar-type messages to avoid them, and he plays video games adeptly when the game is producing a cacophony of noises, and echolocation using sounds could not identify figures on a computer screen.
The fact that more than sound echoes must be involved in navigating through an environment filled with obstacles, as in the example of Ben Underwood, is another indication that the mind seems to see without using the brain.
People See, Hear, and Remember When the Brain& nbsp;Is Not Functioning
Accounts from physicians and nurses abound about people brought back from near death who had experiences of entering a warm, loving environment where they speak with their deceased loved ones. The phenomenon was named a near-death experience (NDE) by Raymond Moody.46 During NDEs, many people see and hear what was going on as physicians and nurses worked feverishly to revive them and they were unconscious. They recount statements made by those in the room, describe people and instruments, and even accurately restate conversations that went on in other rooms.
An organization of people who have had the experience, called the International Association for Near Death Studies (IANDS), now has tens of thousands of members. Dozens of books have been written, filled with cases of people who have had near-death experiences. A Gallup and Proctor poll in 1982 estimated that 5 percent of the adult population of the United States have had near-death experiences. Other surveys put the number at 7.5 percent.47
Near-death experiences, in other words, are commonplace. One of the most remarkable things about NDEs is that while brain dead, without a trace of brain function, these people see and hear what is going on in the scene where their body lies unconscious, and at times in other rooms of the same building. They then remember all of the details and recount them to the astonishment of physicians, nurses, and family members.
During the near-death experience, no sensory experiences and no memory production would be possible if the mind were located in the brain. During these times, people whose brain activity is being monitored are showing absolutely no life in the brain. Dr. Peter Fenwick, a neuropsychiatrist and one of the leading authorities in Britain on near-death experiences, describes the state of the brain during a near-death experience:
The brain isn't functioning. It's not there. It's destroyed. It's abnormal. But, yet, it can produce these very clear experiences. . . . An unconscious state is when the brain ceases to function. For example, if you faint, you fall to the floor, you don't know what's happening and the brain isn't working. The memory systems are particularly sensitive to unconsciousness. So, you won't remember anything. But, yet, after one of these experiences [an NDE], you come out with clear, lucid memories. . . . This is a real puzzle for science. I have not yet seen any good scientific explanation which can explain that fact.48
Michael Sabom, MD, a cardiologist in Atlanta, Georgia, studied near-death experiences to see whether people really were seeing and hearing while their brains were completely non-functioning. He identified a sample of 32 patients who had had an out-of-body experience during cardiac arrests while their brains were unable to function so their senses couldn’t be receiving stimuli. He asked the patients to describe in as much detail as they could what went on during their resuscitations. To see whether someone could simply guess the details of what was happening in the trauma scene or recall the procedure from some chance reading about it in the past, he asked 25 other patients who had cardiac arrest but no out-of-body experiences to describe the events involving their resuscitation during their cardiac arrests.
Virtually all of the patients who said they did not have an out-of-body experience (20 out of 23) made at least one major error in their account. All of the 32 patients who had near-death out-of-body experiences described the resuscitation successfully in specific facts or in the general procedure. When he checked patient descriptions against the records available about their traumas, he found that six of those who had NDEs accurately described in great detail specific facts they could not have learned while lying unconscious that were peculiar to the situation, not just general information about resuscitation:
The recollected details in each case were quite accurate and not interchangeable with details from other near-death crisis descriptions. These specific details included things like which family members were waiting where in the hospital and their emotional reactions, the type of gurneys the patients themselves were riding, the type and description of equipment used to treat them, etc. In one thought-provoking instance, an NDE survivor made an apparent error in describing the work of a defibrillation meter—until Sabom found out that the older model the patient described was exactly the kind used back in 1973 when the patient had his cardiac arrest. Based on his research, Sabom ruled out a common explanation skeptics give for dismissing the reality of these details seen during an OBE: that the accurate portrayal of the near death crisis event is due to prior general knowledge the patient has of how a resuscitation works, and thus his description is merely an educated guess.49
Another study, published in the medical publication Journal of Resuscitation, concluded that people with no brain function who describe a near-death experience in fact have lucid thought processes, reasoning, and memory during the period of time when their brains are not functioning. In the study, doctors at Southampton General Hospital in England interviewed 63 heart attack patients who had been evaluated to be clinically dead, but were subsequently resuscitated. To ensure that their recollections were fresh, the people were interviewed within a week of the experience. They described details and events in which they were thinking, reasoning, and consciously moving around during the period when they were unconscious, their bodies were motionless, and doctors working on them had determined their brains were not functioning. 50
The researchers went on to collect over 3,500 similar cases of people who had been evaluated to be clinically dead, but could recall remarkable details about events during the time when they should not have been able to sense anything or remember even if they had experienced something because they were clinically dead.
Dr. Sam Parnia, one of the physicians, described a child 2½ years old whose heart had stopped beating. He was unconscious and clinically dead, but was revived. Afterward, the child’s parents contacted Parnia to tell him that the boy had drawn a picture of himself portraying what it was like during the trauma, but in the picture he was outside of his unconscious body looking down at himself. In the drawing, there was a balloon-like area. When the boy was asked what tha