100124 07:13
Nothing that I can report, or make sense of, this morning, regarding last night’s dreams. Yet they were dominated by the event of a friend and nephew’s birthdays. Cause enough for me to ponder the impulse behind my penchant for affirming their births. Which I do with all my friends and family.
I discovered, while processing my dream, an unconscious impulse to tell others how special they are and nurture our community and through this the world at large. I should not be, but remain surprised at the growing list of friends no longer with us. Perhaps this is a mode of prayer which surprises me since it has taken me so long to get a clear sense of what I want to be and have in this life and world. I remember my maternal grandmother’s greeting cards with endorsements eradicated and resent.
These precious days, so near the end of my life, are celebrated daily through affirmations gleaned by a collection of quotes on my iGoogle page. I did not begin the practice until after I had begun the work of establishing boundaries between what is mine and that which is yours. Of course not having a television made it simpler and at this point I no longer want one. You might assume that I am a fan of ‘religious’ radio or some such thing. No. I am offended by anyone shouting anything at me and find that my experience of God is not religious and thus I am not addicted to crutches. If I respect myself respect for all others flows naturally into my consciousness. Then my current and former addictions are clearly drawn. It would stupid of me to say, for instance, that “at least I am not an alcoholic” since both parents were dependent upon at least one quart of their favorite poison daily. I have come to honor them nonetheless and forgive all the fear inculcated in me by them, finding that I love them more than I could understand in all my previous life.
We need no permission to live but that truth was hard won by me. The balance is between respect for our love given freely though denied or otherwise defined as inadequate. Love is a verb, not a noun.
Regardless of what all civilization and culture tells us, by way of entertainment, in retrospect I continue to wonder why, where and when it became apparent to me that I was the origin of my love for all others. And at that my love is given without expectation of return.
I do sense how ridiculous this may seem to others and know it better by how foolish it seemed to me once.
Journal keeping has allowed me to establish a sense of what I am and what I am not. In the privacy of my soul it is possible to accept my folly and sincerity of intent. Equally it is possible for me to weep with gratitude that I have life and live meaningfully, at least to myself. As for you it is my intention to offer the honor of my prayer that you become whole, self knowing and beloved of the truth . . . which, obviously, is God, true and loving.
“ 22:51
This has been an surprising day and I fell exhausted after dinner. I am beset with computer problems: three crashes in the past six months, the last fatal, my old friend expired from old age. When everything else fails I no longer become enraged, or feel victimized by this, or similar events which I am not ashamed to confess motivated hysterical reactions to in former times. Exhaustion can do odd things to our judgement and we never really know what will happen now or in the future. It is not that I do not care it is simply that I am willing to know and accept that which I cannot change and accept my helplessness.
Yet in closing this entry I am revitalized by signs of hope and find within myself expanding boarders of potential in response. I fully accept my follies and failures and forgive myself for being imperfect to the needs we all have to become fully alive and persons becoming healed and whole. I am now at peace with not being a diamond in the rough, or an imperfect pearl. The metaphor of being a “rock polisher” has been transformed into myself as a river stone polished by the abrasions of time. Think of water as the wine of life and its moving me over and over what makes me myself. Replace the word “me” with us or you and accept that all life is love when you give up fear. Love is not what you have but what you give.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
“Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.” --C. S. Lewis
100123 02:46
“Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.” --C. S. Lewis
Some days I’m Toto, and others, I’m Dorothy, twirling in the cyclone of chaos we’re in. We’re not in Kansas any more. In truth I am a man in love with a woman who I, in faith, believe loves me as a friend and our friendship is the greatest love I’ll ever know on this mortal coil. I am as loyal to her as nothing I can understand beyond using the Sufi metaphor for the love of the ‘Devil’ for God. In the myth God says “Be Gone!” and the ‘Devil’ took that as his greatest love and left Heaven behind.
My understanding of grace began long ago with Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” and is now reconciled with his “To Have, and Have Not.” Perhaps it is inappropriate for me to use/abuse, works that others would understand differently . . . but in life and death I’ll stick with mine, as I do the sense that The Bible is my Handbook, or Owners Manual, for life.
Again, and yet again, I use Confucius’s rendering of the Golden Rule; "How about 'shu' [reciprocity]: never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself(?)"
We are collectively and individually caught in two dimensions: a Tsunami and enveloped in a gossamer web of love with our Creator and all life. In advance I ask you to forgive this simpleton’s conclusion that it is the work of love to accept the beloved as having a equal voice; and through that come to understand the meaning of Jesus’ “Love your enemy.” God will not do for us what we must agree to do amongst ourselves now. Regardless of the power to destroy, there is a greater power capable of making love and life possible.
“The Golden Rule” has a special meaning since it was introduced, conceptually, to me by Bert Bigelow, a onetime neighbor of my parents. He and is wife sailed into the Atomic Test site mid-Pacific ocean to protest the weapon.
Courage to love and act is a talent/genius we all possess, yet it is too often avoided or ignored. The beloved friend did not announce to me that she was a psychologist until after she had saved me from suicide. Our relationship informs my opinions and choices in regard to all things. It is my prayer for all of us that we find such a level of cooperation and move forward making sense of the chaos we are now in. Regardless of resources we have a communal family to reconcile with the future.
“Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.” --C. S. Lewis
Some days I’m Toto, and others, I’m Dorothy, twirling in the cyclone of chaos we’re in. We’re not in Kansas any more. In truth I am a man in love with a woman who I, in faith, believe loves me as a friend and our friendship is the greatest love I’ll ever know on this mortal coil. I am as loyal to her as nothing I can understand beyond using the Sufi metaphor for the love of the ‘Devil’ for God. In the myth God says “Be Gone!” and the ‘Devil’ took that as his greatest love and left Heaven behind.
My understanding of grace began long ago with Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea” and is now reconciled with his “To Have, and Have Not.” Perhaps it is inappropriate for me to use/abuse, works that others would understand differently . . . but in life and death I’ll stick with mine, as I do the sense that The Bible is my Handbook, or Owners Manual, for life.
Again, and yet again, I use Confucius’s rendering of the Golden Rule; "How about 'shu' [reciprocity]: never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself(?)"
We are collectively and individually caught in two dimensions: a Tsunami and enveloped in a gossamer web of love with our Creator and all life. In advance I ask you to forgive this simpleton’s conclusion that it is the work of love to accept the beloved as having a equal voice; and through that come to understand the meaning of Jesus’ “Love your enemy.” God will not do for us what we must agree to do amongst ourselves now. Regardless of the power to destroy, there is a greater power capable of making love and life possible.
“The Golden Rule” has a special meaning since it was introduced, conceptually, to me by Bert Bigelow, a onetime neighbor of my parents. He and is wife sailed into the Atomic Test site mid-Pacific ocean to protest the weapon.
Courage to love and act is a talent/genius we all possess, yet it is too often avoided or ignored. The beloved friend did not announce to me that she was a psychologist until after she had saved me from suicide. Our relationship informs my opinions and choices in regard to all things. It is my prayer for all of us that we find such a level of cooperation and move forward making sense of the chaos we are now in. Regardless of resources we have a communal family to reconcile with the future.
Coincidence or synchronicity?
100122 13:07
Coincidence or synchronicity?
Carl Jung, one of the fathers of contemporary psychology, defined the word ‘synchronicity’ as an “outward manifestation of an inward thought.” We all have moments of revelation when someone else, or another source, is addressing the same issue simultaneous with our thoughts overtly. In my life and times this has happened frequently yet I dismissed the experience as merely coincidence. The consequence was that I muddled along with the ‘best that I could do’ by my own discernment. Or, worse, I fell in love with the source misapprehending the author.
Experience with my own addictions lead me to conclude that I paid too much attention to the person, place or thing I was “addicted “ to.
Everyone, by lose definition, processes life experience through experiential filters: thinking, sensing, feeling or intuition with minor combinations of a secondary influence. I have begun to balance the four instead of the two I normally used inherently.
Retrospectively I should have said “am attempting to integrate” the four kinds of perception. We learn more by our failures than our successes. It is not an ideal of wearing rose colored glasses all the time but of really paying attention to the source of our information. Most of the time we are seeking affirmation of our convictions, “magical thinking”, instead of what we can learn. It follows that when I consume information I am now attempting to parse the meaning of everything I allow into the rock polisher of my mind. More often than not I find myself attempting to understand the motives involved through a filter of prophesy versus profit.
I have nothing against wealth and profit but when it costs me too much I begin to bridle. The consequence is that I vote with my wallet, feet or attention. At the same time I take umbrage at those who use psychology to manipulate me into their ideal behavior and so my response is considered and conscious, not reactionary.
In this regard I sense I’ve painted myself into a corner and find myself addressing, yet again, “Love your enemy.” And flowing into that consideration is a host of other sayings/parables of Jesus that inform me that I am moving in the right direction. “Innocent as a dove and wily as a fox.” Neither are stupid as some would presume.
I was once addicted to dysfunctional relationships, unconscious of my motives to heal them so I could have a life. Despite my many failings I am still moving forward toward a self-derived understanding. No longer worshiping resources that would otherwise use and abuse me to their ends or agendas.
Attention to synchronicity is near constant now. I am often humbled by grace especially that given by strangers and those who actually love/loved me when I could not love or accept myself.
In a sincere sense it was I who failed to respond to all the opportunities freely given in life to live better than I did previously. The primary source of my self-loathing originated in my parents anxiety that I become better able to survive economically--they were both young adults during the Great Depression--so I better understand and forgive their vehemence defining me as “too stupid to get in out of the rain.” If I have empathy for my ‘enemy’ now it is because I was once an enemy to myself.
Coincidence or synchronicity?
Carl Jung, one of the fathers of contemporary psychology, defined the word ‘synchronicity’ as an “outward manifestation of an inward thought.” We all have moments of revelation when someone else, or another source, is addressing the same issue simultaneous with our thoughts overtly. In my life and times this has happened frequently yet I dismissed the experience as merely coincidence. The consequence was that I muddled along with the ‘best that I could do’ by my own discernment. Or, worse, I fell in love with the source misapprehending the author.
Experience with my own addictions lead me to conclude that I paid too much attention to the person, place or thing I was “addicted “ to.
Everyone, by lose definition, processes life experience through experiential filters: thinking, sensing, feeling or intuition with minor combinations of a secondary influence. I have begun to balance the four instead of the two I normally used inherently.
Retrospectively I should have said “am attempting to integrate” the four kinds of perception. We learn more by our failures than our successes. It is not an ideal of wearing rose colored glasses all the time but of really paying attention to the source of our information. Most of the time we are seeking affirmation of our convictions, “magical thinking”, instead of what we can learn. It follows that when I consume information I am now attempting to parse the meaning of everything I allow into the rock polisher of my mind. More often than not I find myself attempting to understand the motives involved through a filter of prophesy versus profit.
I have nothing against wealth and profit but when it costs me too much I begin to bridle. The consequence is that I vote with my wallet, feet or attention. At the same time I take umbrage at those who use psychology to manipulate me into their ideal behavior and so my response is considered and conscious, not reactionary.
In this regard I sense I’ve painted myself into a corner and find myself addressing, yet again, “Love your enemy.” And flowing into that consideration is a host of other sayings/parables of Jesus that inform me that I am moving in the right direction. “Innocent as a dove and wily as a fox.” Neither are stupid as some would presume.
I was once addicted to dysfunctional relationships, unconscious of my motives to heal them so I could have a life. Despite my many failings I am still moving forward toward a self-derived understanding. No longer worshiping resources that would otherwise use and abuse me to their ends or agendas.
Attention to synchronicity is near constant now. I am often humbled by grace especially that given by strangers and those who actually love/loved me when I could not love or accept myself.
In a sincere sense it was I who failed to respond to all the opportunities freely given in life to live better than I did previously. The primary source of my self-loathing originated in my parents anxiety that I become better able to survive economically--they were both young adults during the Great Depression--so I better understand and forgive their vehemence defining me as “too stupid to get in out of the rain.” If I have empathy for my ‘enemy’ now it is because I was once an enemy to myself.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
100121 05:38
We are all artist. Our masterpiece is the creation of our Self. To be known and loved for being our self is asking a bit much of life and others. Since it is apparent, the so few of, the many of us, love or ever really know and accept ourselves. We are in process and waste a great deal of our lives in jealousy and admiration of the lives of those who are esteemed historically.
Sadly it is the criminal who steals life, most often remembered, and in a perverse way celebrated. It is too easy to kill instead of love. An artist of death is feared and fear becomes our ideal polarity.
Yesterday I arrived at a nodal point in my life’s process; a place of choice between going forward or simply destroying not only what I write but what I am. But as an old man I’ve learned patience with myself and am willing to suffer pain. Since I know my end is inevitably near and each moment of life dear.
I am tempted to deconstruct the moments of consequence and the agents of my knowing God’s intervention and what now results in this moment celebrated. We sense, think, intuit or feel God as either an idea or real.
--R. Buckminster Fuller
“Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking.”
Love is the catalyst of life. As I wander through the museum of all Creation, including pre-history and the future, I am caught by those few who, as artist, annotate their lives that we better understand and appreciate ours. Artifacts can be worshiped but should become instead portals passed through and into what they tell us about ourselves. God is obviously the greatest artist, and my list of life’s artist surrounds God in a constellation of stars ever expanding. We all have a talent and genius but in general avoid responsibility for that. Instead we become addicted to things, activities, drugs or dances of avoidance proclaiming ourselves as Indian Chiefs, Bakers, Candle Stick Makers, Bankers or consumers. In a profound sense longing for the attention of others to affirm our value and right to live and be loved when we love not ourselves.
I have a vision/version of our collective future, either terminal or infinite, depending upon choices made by, or for, ourselves. I am not impressed by what you say you are but what you do. It is not for me to judge you since that is God’s role and you will know it in the end of your days. Since I love Jesus I wonder what I do on a daily basis to make love possible in an impossible world filled with fear, hatred and greed measuring everything in “Good, Better, Best” ways. Worse; I win, you lose.
Keep it simple stupid. Yes I will admit to my stupidity and longing for simple separation between Church and State. The secular should, in my opinion, always be separate from the sacred. My choice to participate or boycott either, or both, is my responsibility and belongs to no one else; not even God.
I will continue to advocate that you take responsibility for yourself; change what you can, accept what you cannot and discover the wisdom in yourself to accept the difference. Be the best You can be, in that choice you will soon discover that change is welcome and that what you give or take in life defines your faith. My prayers are inclusive and include my “enemies.”
--Helen Keller
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
We are all artist. Our masterpiece is the creation of our Self. To be known and loved for being our self is asking a bit much of life and others. Since it is apparent, the so few of, the many of us, love or ever really know and accept ourselves. We are in process and waste a great deal of our lives in jealousy and admiration of the lives of those who are esteemed historically.
Sadly it is the criminal who steals life, most often remembered, and in a perverse way celebrated. It is too easy to kill instead of love. An artist of death is feared and fear becomes our ideal polarity.
Yesterday I arrived at a nodal point in my life’s process; a place of choice between going forward or simply destroying not only what I write but what I am. But as an old man I’ve learned patience with myself and am willing to suffer pain. Since I know my end is inevitably near and each moment of life dear.
I am tempted to deconstruct the moments of consequence and the agents of my knowing God’s intervention and what now results in this moment celebrated. We sense, think, intuit or feel God as either an idea or real.
--R. Buckminster Fuller
“Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking.”
Love is the catalyst of life. As I wander through the museum of all Creation, including pre-history and the future, I am caught by those few who, as artist, annotate their lives that we better understand and appreciate ours. Artifacts can be worshiped but should become instead portals passed through and into what they tell us about ourselves. God is obviously the greatest artist, and my list of life’s artist surrounds God in a constellation of stars ever expanding. We all have a talent and genius but in general avoid responsibility for that. Instead we become addicted to things, activities, drugs or dances of avoidance proclaiming ourselves as Indian Chiefs, Bakers, Candle Stick Makers, Bankers or consumers. In a profound sense longing for the attention of others to affirm our value and right to live and be loved when we love not ourselves.
I have a vision/version of our collective future, either terminal or infinite, depending upon choices made by, or for, ourselves. I am not impressed by what you say you are but what you do. It is not for me to judge you since that is God’s role and you will know it in the end of your days. Since I love Jesus I wonder what I do on a daily basis to make love possible in an impossible world filled with fear, hatred and greed measuring everything in “Good, Better, Best” ways. Worse; I win, you lose.
Keep it simple stupid. Yes I will admit to my stupidity and longing for simple separation between Church and State. The secular should, in my opinion, always be separate from the sacred. My choice to participate or boycott either, or both, is my responsibility and belongs to no one else; not even God.
I will continue to advocate that you take responsibility for yourself; change what you can, accept what you cannot and discover the wisdom in yourself to accept the difference. Be the best You can be, in that choice you will soon discover that change is welcome and that what you give or take in life defines your faith. My prayers are inclusive and include my “enemies.”
--Helen Keller
"One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar."
Seek the Truth in all things especially yourself
100120 05:02
This dawn I will greet with sadness and departure the life and beliefs I will now leave behind. Sincerely I accept and welcome even the most difficult dreams and do not resent being hurled from my sleep by them. I once thought it grand to sail forth from the safe harbor of my childhood to sail the world, mostly water. Now I anticipate sailing the far vaster stars above the ordinary of earthly life.
The peace within me is a conviction derived from my current awareness the dream compelling me from slumber; God is the ultimate servant hidden within all of us. The avoidance of this simple stunning reality has been costly beyond measure to me and I suspect all others.
As I write I am ever more conscious of attitudes of jealousy regarding the power of others to pursue and persecute me as well as all others they would make victims of . . . at the moment I am thinking of the Black population abandoned after Katrina and now Haiti . . . and I have a special empathy for the AIDS orphans of Africa . . . which in turn reminds me of the widows and orphans on both sides of the conflicts bleeding America dry financially, morally and ethically.
I mean no disrespect for the choices made by either side. And am happily no longer identified by face in association with what I now write. Since to be so is to invite assassination by self-righteous bigotry, punditry and bigotry--merely what has become our National sport of choice.
I am a journalist, not simply in the sense of annotating my feelings and thoughts here and on the Internet. But professionally. I mourn the passing of “Freedom of the Press” and the venues I once enjoyed working for . . . ‘kill the messengers’ is another world-wide sport. Least I digress into a political fulmination, I am reminded that few prophets of the Judeo-Christian tradition died in their sleep and in time all the apostles crucified. A great many have died to defend our national freedoms as have many individuals who also died to keep the dignity of being truly yourself available. That is my ambition and goal, to be your servant, or handmaiden to the birth of your real self, free from fear, self-loathing, tyranny and slavery.
“ 06:10
I will quote you no quotes since it seems I must either use my own words or transliterate into contemporary language something more accessible to our times. We become what we love or nearly so and equally become, essentially what we consume. Seek the truth in all things especially yourself.
This dawn I will greet with sadness and departure the life and beliefs I will now leave behind. Sincerely I accept and welcome even the most difficult dreams and do not resent being hurled from my sleep by them. I once thought it grand to sail forth from the safe harbor of my childhood to sail the world, mostly water. Now I anticipate sailing the far vaster stars above the ordinary of earthly life.
The peace within me is a conviction derived from my current awareness the dream compelling me from slumber; God is the ultimate servant hidden within all of us. The avoidance of this simple stunning reality has been costly beyond measure to me and I suspect all others.
As I write I am ever more conscious of attitudes of jealousy regarding the power of others to pursue and persecute me as well as all others they would make victims of . . . at the moment I am thinking of the Black population abandoned after Katrina and now Haiti . . . and I have a special empathy for the AIDS orphans of Africa . . . which in turn reminds me of the widows and orphans on both sides of the conflicts bleeding America dry financially, morally and ethically.
I mean no disrespect for the choices made by either side. And am happily no longer identified by face in association with what I now write. Since to be so is to invite assassination by self-righteous bigotry, punditry and bigotry--merely what has become our National sport of choice.
I am a journalist, not simply in the sense of annotating my feelings and thoughts here and on the Internet. But professionally. I mourn the passing of “Freedom of the Press” and the venues I once enjoyed working for . . . ‘kill the messengers’ is another world-wide sport. Least I digress into a political fulmination, I am reminded that few prophets of the Judeo-Christian tradition died in their sleep and in time all the apostles crucified. A great many have died to defend our national freedoms as have many individuals who also died to keep the dignity of being truly yourself available. That is my ambition and goal, to be your servant, or handmaiden to the birth of your real self, free from fear, self-loathing, tyranny and slavery.
“ 06:10
I will quote you no quotes since it seems I must either use my own words or transliterate into contemporary language something more accessible to our times. We become what we love or nearly so and equally become, essentially what we consume. Seek the truth in all things especially yourself.
Power is Love
100119 07:18
It is a very wonderful thing that God loves us as we are. I awoke from a dream regarding an important personal failure to achieve a long sought ideal. The recognition of which left me bereft and better described as being humiliated by my choices/behaviors. At issue was salvation. There were three principal characters: myself and two women--described better as two female spirits, souls or entities of importance to me. I am reminded that I am 49% female and have been prone to projecting that reality upon other women to my chagrin; only now recognized.
I remember Dunkirk in reference to my failure. I first read about the event in childhood and imagined God very busy with all the souls who died there. In truth I do so equally now regarding the Middle East and Haiti. And then too are the many genocides within my lifetime.
If I seem overly empathetic regarding others filtered through religious/spiritual contexts, I now accept that I have always been so. Yet in childhood, and until very recently, my preoccupation was impermissible since I gave all authority to others to tell me what God/All Truth/Everything was about. I was ripped, torn, spindled and mutilated by myself in conflict between an innate sense of God’s presence and the need of others to tell me otherwise. I know what it means to be ‘crazy’ and so terrified with anxiety that my life was put into a state of shutdown to survive.
If I have no fear of life, death or dying it is because in a virtual sense I have died so often to myself that death is no stranger--but then neither is the resurrection--now.
Regarding the failure experienced in my dream I have become conscious of several Biblical ‘heroes’ Noah chief among them. My failure was to take that final, step the one assuring me of salvation.
No longer paranoid I sense we are a people in flood tide of chaos and the narrow gate will only accept one soul at a time. If our soul is a lamp there is no profit in sharing the fuel with others who fail to recognize their responsibility to enter. I no longer cringe acknowledging the darkness in others being so well acquainted with my own. I know God as kind, loving and all the things St. Paul described in 1 Corinthian’s 13. Yet in my dream I was a failure, fatally so. The Bible as an owners manual for life, and God as the best and greatest teacher/healer, is by-and-large, held in the hands of people who know about, but do not experience, God as actual. I base my discernment upon a simple standard; God is inclusive and we are exclusive to our own desires and intentions.
Jesus is my root in The Tree of Life. Though I do not think myself exclusively Christian, unwittingly and unwillingly, I have been moved by experience from the root to leaf fallen and recycled. No religion is my enemy since we all seek ascension through life and in death. No one asks to be born and the issue is what do we do in life; what values and meanings apply?
Of late I have taken time to reflect, in the ordinary of my daily life, upon what I have written, sometimes in a frenzy of passion regarding a dream or a resolved conflict. I often become bewildered by the vigor of my statements and attempt to see them with the eyes of others who may not be aware of “God” as anything other than someone/something they call when helpless. Heresy and sedition are issues that I am conscious the definitions of but they seldom factor in to the equation of what I publish or simply table for another day.
My sense and experience of God is very participatory and at the same time something I could be judged as being insane for admitting. I would argue in this case that what we acknowledge as “Power” is too often egos gone awry. It is not for me to decide or define your life but you must by your own lights examine and live it. If Jesus died for us, can I die for you? What is the meaning of life or death?
--R. Buckminster Fuller
“Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking.”
It is a very wonderful thing that God loves us as we are. I awoke from a dream regarding an important personal failure to achieve a long sought ideal. The recognition of which left me bereft and better described as being humiliated by my choices/behaviors. At issue was salvation. There were three principal characters: myself and two women--described better as two female spirits, souls or entities of importance to me. I am reminded that I am 49% female and have been prone to projecting that reality upon other women to my chagrin; only now recognized.
I remember Dunkirk in reference to my failure. I first read about the event in childhood and imagined God very busy with all the souls who died there. In truth I do so equally now regarding the Middle East and Haiti. And then too are the many genocides within my lifetime.
If I seem overly empathetic regarding others filtered through religious/spiritual contexts, I now accept that I have always been so. Yet in childhood, and until very recently, my preoccupation was impermissible since I gave all authority to others to tell me what God/All Truth/Everything was about. I was ripped, torn, spindled and mutilated by myself in conflict between an innate sense of God’s presence and the need of others to tell me otherwise. I know what it means to be ‘crazy’ and so terrified with anxiety that my life was put into a state of shutdown to survive.
If I have no fear of life, death or dying it is because in a virtual sense I have died so often to myself that death is no stranger--but then neither is the resurrection--now.
Regarding the failure experienced in my dream I have become conscious of several Biblical ‘heroes’ Noah chief among them. My failure was to take that final, step the one assuring me of salvation.
No longer paranoid I sense we are a people in flood tide of chaos and the narrow gate will only accept one soul at a time. If our soul is a lamp there is no profit in sharing the fuel with others who fail to recognize their responsibility to enter. I no longer cringe acknowledging the darkness in others being so well acquainted with my own. I know God as kind, loving and all the things St. Paul described in 1 Corinthian’s 13. Yet in my dream I was a failure, fatally so. The Bible as an owners manual for life, and God as the best and greatest teacher/healer, is by-and-large, held in the hands of people who know about, but do not experience, God as actual. I base my discernment upon a simple standard; God is inclusive and we are exclusive to our own desires and intentions.
Jesus is my root in The Tree of Life. Though I do not think myself exclusively Christian, unwittingly and unwillingly, I have been moved by experience from the root to leaf fallen and recycled. No religion is my enemy since we all seek ascension through life and in death. No one asks to be born and the issue is what do we do in life; what values and meanings apply?
Of late I have taken time to reflect, in the ordinary of my daily life, upon what I have written, sometimes in a frenzy of passion regarding a dream or a resolved conflict. I often become bewildered by the vigor of my statements and attempt to see them with the eyes of others who may not be aware of “God” as anything other than someone/something they call when helpless. Heresy and sedition are issues that I am conscious the definitions of but they seldom factor in to the equation of what I publish or simply table for another day.
My sense and experience of God is very participatory and at the same time something I could be judged as being insane for admitting. I would argue in this case that what we acknowledge as “Power” is too often egos gone awry. It is not for me to decide or define your life but you must by your own lights examine and live it. If Jesus died for us, can I die for you? What is the meaning of life or death?
--R. Buckminster Fuller
“Faith is much better than belief. Belief is when someone else does the thinking.”
Heaven being torn apart.!?
100118 06:09
I have a vision of Heaven being torn apart. Oddly it was the size of an average roadside billboard which had never been cleaned of all the preceding promises torn from it. For me it was as though I had seen the soul of my daughter raped and then rend limb from limb and I helpless to intervene. This is an image that has been forming in my vision/version of life and its value and directions for a very long time.
Slowly I have come to accept that I gave up my ambition to be something better than I was and remain to serve my son in his final years, then days and terminal hour. His sister’s death preceded Randy’s by years and I bore complicity for leaving her to die in custodial care feeling a rage and agony for that, unspeakable choice, especially with their mother.
I divorced her many years ago yet there is no divorce in my heart. I had to divorce from myself the child I was who knew love as dysfunctional--being addicted to that--what I now call co-dependence.
Many of the images, metaphors and omens are being wiped from my consciousness as I write. Justifiably so since they are history and this is now; reality versus ideals.
If we become what we love then I become something like God. Who as Parent is dispassionate and loves with ferocity stunning to behold . . . what some call, and or imply to be, ‘fear’, I call joy.
To me the reality of God is best expressed as a landlord who is unable to tend the flocks and vineyards we inhabit. It is our responsibility to be good stewards of not only the land and lives created but of ourselves as well. If we don’t do it who will and when?
I am fiercely political and theological yet refuse to debate my issues with others knowing I will lose my self in the process of attempting to compete with their perceptions or constructs of long standing traditions expressed as power. Historically everyone, and thing, is destroyed for being inconvenient to the authorities. I am especially conscious of the songs sung by the mountains around me by the natives who lived here long before me. Now desecrated and largely expunged . . . in a sense I long to join them since they knew God better than I. Issues of lineage and DNA are irrelevant to the soul and its vocations and or amusements.
I was once considered to be a ‘good’ photographer with a promising future. These estimates were welcome but pale compared to the joy I knew in my experience of being one at that time. Yet I fell blind to myself at the advent of my son’s demise. And here I am conscious of the indignities he suffered as well as those being suffered by the poor of the world now. We are not expendable feral dogs licking the masters hands who send us a crumb of attention, or off to fight their obscene wars. My point is simply that I never failed as witness and now sense my silence the brew of what writes now.
I seek no celebrity or profit from what I do in expectation of demise now, or tomorrow or later on by any means or measure. Given that, I do celebrate every moment including the normal depredations of age; the pain of an unusually cold winter, the stiffness of arthritis, et cetera, et al, since they remind me that I am alive and fully so.
I think it not odd to conclude leadership best seeks to replace itself with succession despite all the stories used to entertain we the victims of our civilization and culture. If I would serve you it is my intention that you take responsibility for your sense of what is worthy of love and nurture. If we do not then there will be no future and no witness save God.
All life is holy to me.
I have a vision of Heaven being torn apart. Oddly it was the size of an average roadside billboard which had never been cleaned of all the preceding promises torn from it. For me it was as though I had seen the soul of my daughter raped and then rend limb from limb and I helpless to intervene. This is an image that has been forming in my vision/version of life and its value and directions for a very long time.
Slowly I have come to accept that I gave up my ambition to be something better than I was and remain to serve my son in his final years, then days and terminal hour. His sister’s death preceded Randy’s by years and I bore complicity for leaving her to die in custodial care feeling a rage and agony for that, unspeakable choice, especially with their mother.
I divorced her many years ago yet there is no divorce in my heart. I had to divorce from myself the child I was who knew love as dysfunctional--being addicted to that--what I now call co-dependence.
Many of the images, metaphors and omens are being wiped from my consciousness as I write. Justifiably so since they are history and this is now; reality versus ideals.
If we become what we love then I become something like God. Who as Parent is dispassionate and loves with ferocity stunning to behold . . . what some call, and or imply to be, ‘fear’, I call joy.
To me the reality of God is best expressed as a landlord who is unable to tend the flocks and vineyards we inhabit. It is our responsibility to be good stewards of not only the land and lives created but of ourselves as well. If we don’t do it who will and when?
I am fiercely political and theological yet refuse to debate my issues with others knowing I will lose my self in the process of attempting to compete with their perceptions or constructs of long standing traditions expressed as power. Historically everyone, and thing, is destroyed for being inconvenient to the authorities. I am especially conscious of the songs sung by the mountains around me by the natives who lived here long before me. Now desecrated and largely expunged . . . in a sense I long to join them since they knew God better than I. Issues of lineage and DNA are irrelevant to the soul and its vocations and or amusements.
I was once considered to be a ‘good’ photographer with a promising future. These estimates were welcome but pale compared to the joy I knew in my experience of being one at that time. Yet I fell blind to myself at the advent of my son’s demise. And here I am conscious of the indignities he suffered as well as those being suffered by the poor of the world now. We are not expendable feral dogs licking the masters hands who send us a crumb of attention, or off to fight their obscene wars. My point is simply that I never failed as witness and now sense my silence the brew of what writes now.
I seek no celebrity or profit from what I do in expectation of demise now, or tomorrow or later on by any means or measure. Given that, I do celebrate every moment including the normal depredations of age; the pain of an unusually cold winter, the stiffness of arthritis, et cetera, et al, since they remind me that I am alive and fully so.
I think it not odd to conclude leadership best seeks to replace itself with succession despite all the stories used to entertain we the victims of our civilization and culture. If I would serve you it is my intention that you take responsibility for your sense of what is worthy of love and nurture. If we do not then there will be no future and no witness save God.
All life is holy to me.
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