Archive for the ‘Thoughts’ Category

Surface Earth, copyright 2007

It is a time before now

A time well past

in this half-finished life

purgatory these last few decades

holding me silently raging

against what could have been

standing the measure of time

against the choices not made

cast as decision

Putting on the familar face

losing my breath to fit the mask

at which point am I more real?

Am I too old now

to even ask?

or too young

so long as there is even one breath

left

to ignore the pain

of pasting upon my face

knowingly curving without thought

the contours of my cheeks

to admit the smile

against the cast of my eyes

The Park Bench

Copyright 2007

Surface Earth, all rights reserved

They are cluttered on the benches beneath the trees. Again, they have left open the benches in the sun. I wonder, who gave them this right? I asked my brother the other day, “is it legal?”

He sighed, a great stirring as he lifted the air from his chest and back inward again. “Is t legal?” He closed his eyes, ruefully shaking his head. His little sister, always the same.

“Gwen, does it matter whether it is legal? Have you not heard of Darwin’s Law?”

Darwin? I have heard that word. I can’t remember. My mother, perhaps? My father? Before they were taken? My brother knew I could not recall.

“In the time before, before the laws were made, there was a test.” He stretched himself, “the birds of flight sailed above and through the skies where no one else could touch. Upon reaching ground, the birds of flight were honored for their extraordinary power, revered.” He scratched at his back, looking toward the sky.

I know this story, I can remember from the time I was young, my mother sang me a song of times before. I knew my brother would take his time, in speaking, and now as I waited he gathered his thoughts. I glanced to the benches below, all the ones beneath the trees still full. The sun was at high noon, the wood would bake beneath one’s feet.

I watched three women, in black, hobble past the sun covered benches. One craned her head, lifting her eyes from beneath her brow bone. I am sure that once she had eyebrows. I could see slight tufts where perhaps something else used to grow. The other linked her arm, “never mind,” I heard carried into the wind. I watched their backs, stooped under the weight of black, worn almost shiny by age.

“Oh no!” I cried. My bother startled.

“What is it Gwen?” His eyes opened, and he stopped mid-flight on the verge of continuing his lesson.

“Nothing brother. I saw a young boy, on a skateboard. I feared he would overtake and knock down the women.”

My brother peered closer at me. “Gwen, but that is what I am telling you. If that young boy had not chosen to steer around, he would have overtaken the women, ran them down and perhaps continued. His bones are strong, not tried by age, not worn.”

I sat mystified. Is that all? All he would say? I asked whether there was a law regarding the benches. I looked at them again but it was the same. People atop the benches in the shade, birds on the ground, hopping from the burning asphalt, playing tricks for crumbs. I shook my head, taking in the park.

Do you know what truth is?

Sure, it is a compilation of facts.

Do you know what facts are?

Sure it’s what’s black and white.

What’s black?

Um, that which is darkest.

What’s white?

That which is most white, without being translucent.

So,

facts are that which are darkest and not most translucent, right?

At which point do we divorce perception and its effects from what we regard as facts?

Let me give you a very basic, perhaps insulting example:

How do we live in a world, where anyone, government included, has an excuse to kill others, and we argue over whether it is defined as genocide or a humantiarian crisis?

Have you ever had moments, days, weeks, months, years where you find yourself in spiritual depletion?

It doesn’t matter to me what you believe in, well, as long as it’s not evil, but you find yourself with a lack of faith in God, the Universe, the Laws of Attraction, basically, in yourself.

Sometimes I wonder whether the quest for different religions or different Universal knowledge is really just a search for a quick fix. If it were though, so much truth would not resonate.

I equate spiritual depletion with a physical depletion. Anger or frustration or sadness is coursing through you, shutting down receptors to joy or to experiencing gratitude in the moment.

Then the next stage becomes, if I am so spiritually developed or enlightened, why did I succumb to this emotion?

It’s not easy always recognizing the signs, the build up of small frustrations throughout the day that bring us to a dark place of depletion. The goal is to recognize when your body is telling you something doesn’t feel good. For instance, I am at my best when I am around children in a loving manner: tuning in, smiling, joking, imagining, playing, hugging. I have no doubts as to whether what I am doing is right or if I want to be anywhere else in the world.

Fast forward: I am on the phone with an adversary. The conversation is not developing as I had anticipated. I hear the excuses mounting and need to count to ten to not shout, “Get to the point. Give me the bottom line so we can end this conversation.” I can hear in his tone and the type of words he is using that he is retreating from prior representations and I have no patience to wait out the excuses. My body begins to tighten, my brain begins to darken, in other words, I am not at my best.

I used to fight and rail against these moments of depletion, read more, talk more, jump around more, but I found a simple panacea, a bridge: silence.

Silence allows me not to beat myself up for slipping in my spiritual goals, it allows me to replenish, and another large bonus, it saves the ones around me from having to deal with my depletion.

Imagine for a moment, that you live in a world governed by different standards. Come on, it will only take a few seconds….

You are working, scattering through emails shooting at you, lines holding, documents piled for review, diary dates passing by your eyes.

Phone rings. It is someone near and dear who is meant to be within the safe harbor of your existence.

You answer, “hello?”.

“Oh, hi, who’s this?”

Who’s this? What? Did I not just pick up the phone when the other person dialed?

“It’s me.”

“Where are you?”

“Where am I? You called me. At the office.”

Now, might sound like someone, me, is without patience, a bit curt, less than the oh wise breathing one. And that would be correct. But everything in context.

The conversation ensues and after ten minutes without a pause, I hear a pause, “what’s wrong with you?”.

Wrong?

Wrong?

Well nothing truly, it’s just that you have been speaking to me for ten minutes straight without even asking if it’s a good time and the thrust of the conversation is to share your pain.

Suppose I was in a painful moment? Suppose I simply had not shared? Do I need to air my woes, pains, hurts and trials to be afforded the courtesy of not filling my basket with yours?

Now this is stream of consciousness and “pretend”; yet, we all have moments like this. When our plate is so full, there is no space to absorb another’s worries and pains, especially if it is about the weather, a sneeze or a bad meal at a restaurant.

What do you do? Preach to them, tell them, you think you got it bad?

Chances are they aren’t going to hear you and maybe they do have it bad or worse, after all, who would want to spend their time complaining most of the day?

The creator of this new blog has generously posted two of our pieces….

we like her photo of the potted plant and decided to give you a brief glimpse of her site….to learn more, you will have to go to the source…

 

I’m NOT a Potted Plant!

March 12th, 2007 by 100 Blogging Babes From SurfaceEarth:

“I’m not a potted plant.”

I can absorb, listen, do my “charitable” deed and remain impassive during the onslaught. But whoever said, I had to be a potted plant?

To find out more about blogging babes and if you too are a blogging babe, check out Ronnie’s newest blog!

100BloggingBabes

I find articles pitting Science against God amusing.

Perhaps because I am simple minded.

Perhaps because I figure, Science doesn’t know what is out there so why should the mere word “Science” obliterate God?

Suppose in the end there is no difference?

For more fascinating thoughts, albeit a bit more complex,

See the New York Times Sunday Magazine

There is much that has been written about the Law of Attraction. I don’t consider myself to be a scholarly authority on this matter, but I do hold certain truths to be self evident.

The Law of Attraction counsels that if you use your emotional guidance system, you will bring yourself to positive forces and thoughts. Whether it be the attraction of perfect health, financial prosperity and joy, the choice is ultimately yours.

For many years I became bogged down in the notion of judgment. What right do we have to judge? What would occur, moral anarchy, if we did not judge? I could not see beyond this dilemma.

Having spent time reading various sources on the Law of Attraction, and yes, that includes The Secret, Conversations with God, A Course in Miracles, The Law of Attraction, The Basic Teachings of Abraham, The Way of the Warrior, The Alchemist, The Pilgrimage, Toltec Traditions, various writings of the Dalai Lama, The Celestine Prophecy, The Teachings of Don Juan, A Yaqui Way of Knowledge, to most of the books from the Kabbalah Centre to The Interior Castle of St. Teresa of Avila, and on and on….I have come to a tentative conclusion…

The open question as to the place of judgment can and should be removed from the realm of moral analysis and moved into the the thought of the Law of Attraction.

The Law of Attraction teaches us, from a simple level, that what we think pulls energy from the Universe and comes back to us. The question becomes, do we then have to monitor our thoughts?

Not really. The basic idea is that we pay attention to an “emotional guidance system”, a gut instinct, a physical feeling that tells us, hey this feels good or this doesn’t feel good. If we can learn to recognize and not supress these physical manifestations, we can learn to manipulate our thoughts to what is positive.

Taking a basic example, I am watching CNN, health news comes up, there are new findings on what back pain may be caused by. As I watch it, I begin to tighten my body, feeling the ache and wondering, is it a heart problem? Could it be something worse than a heart problem? In that moment, I am forgetting, I raked the leaves, carried a toddler for hours, scrubbed the floors, carried an oversized briefcase up and down stairs, all I am thinking of is – gasp – I have back pain!

My mind begins to wonder, could it be something horrible? I flip stations and my brain picks up on each station that has more dismal news. I talk to friends, go to work, go to the store and I hear more and more similar stories. It must be true, I must have something to be very, very afraid of.

Now, here’s my favorite: “Rewind”.

None of the above with slight exceptions happens. I stand in my kitchen, I flick on CNN, see the talking head begin and change the channel.

The Law of Attraction tells us this simply, although I haven’t read it quite that way yet, but it tells us to: “Change the Channel”.

So where does judgment fit into this?

If you are like me and are striving not to judge others you are pushing against a natural tendency and focus to do precisely that: to judge.

Judge the ones who judge, judge not judging, in other words, you are swimming in a great morass of judgment.

Now suppose you took yourself out of that quandary.

Suppose, you sit down at a birthday party, a lurking adult on the fringe of childhood play, serving as a waiting ride home and a woman sits down next to you. You already had your moment planned, the moment in which you were waiting to escort your charges back home and not get in the way or embarrass them as you wait. You have a bag with a water bottle, gum and at least three different books. You sit down quietly and savor the moment you are about to call yours and crack open to page 209 of your 263 page book, knowing you are nearing the end and wishing there wasn’t one. You look up at a sound and find another mother nearby. You smile. Too late you realize that she has no intention of reading the book in her hand. You should have seen it by the way she sat next to you and placed her bag on top of the book, not out of the way of the book, but on top of the book.

You suck it up but your gut is rolling, you really just want to read.

The woman begins to talk, she is lovely, a nice soul, but the conversation never ends despite numerous attempts to casually open your book and hold it in front of your face.

She begins to speak about non-smokers, parents who don’t agree with her reward system for good grades, and it goes on and on.

You smile. A lightbulb goes off, huh, I don’t have to agree with everything she says just to make her feel better. I don’t have to offer up my own tales of woe just to be a good comrade. I can simply smile and redirect her to the children climbing rock walls.

In the past, I would have fluctuated, ah, what a nice lady, I should agree with her or at least murmer and nod my head. What a bad, bad person I would be to do otherwise. Then I think, but I have no interest in this type of conversation, I don’t want to bash the rest of the community, I don’t necessarily agree with them, but I simply have no interest in such topics.

I have no interest in such topics.

Simple.

I don’t need to go through the scales of morality but can fixate instead on what is feeling right inside of me and move away from what feels wrong. And in the process, I don’t have to sit in the seat of judgment and don’t have to go through a dissertation as to whether I am being charitable or uncharitable, I can just move toward what feels good or away from what feels wrong.

And that is how easy it can be at times to move toward what feels right and attract an abundance of what feels right all of the time. What feels right to me is not to judge. I don’t need to know why, I just know it is true. In judging, I bring negative energy to myself and the recipient of my judgment and it becomes a never ending relentless cycle.

I would rather simply enjoy breathing.

Many of us may have spent a lifetime

putting out the embers of a fire

grounding a foot

against a lick of red

on a dusty brick

taking a stick

pushing it

fanning its pulp

extinguishing the air

surrounding the flame

A lifetime

or what it seems

at the moment

while time still stands ahead

A lifetime to obliterate the flames

Why then

is it such a suprise

that it may take

more than a nanosecond

to rekindle the fire?

Crouching on bended knee

an elbow resting in the dirt

hands scarred

having circled dug up rocks

pieces of long standing trees

piled

waiting for breath

slowly to exhale

and fan the flame

Curious and more curious.

Gingrich was not a hypocrite. Yes, he now states he had an extramarital affair but really, he drew the line when pursuing Clinton…he went after him due to an alleged felony, perjury and obstruction of justice, not because of the sensationalist news regarding Ms. Lewinsky.

Check out some interesting articles on this fascinating non-hypocritical line drawing:

Today’s news

Focus on the Family

“Do as I Say, Not as I Do”

Huffington Post

Really?

Are we here again?

First scrotum, and now vagina?

Ok, let me go check on-line, popular, dictionary or encyclopedias, to see if they are horrible, or in fact, medical, scientific words….because I am pretty angry that an author and now three young teens pay the price for the rest of us exercising civil liberties….

Yup, wikipedia has got it

and wikipedia has it again

Ooops, even Webster’s has it?

“I’m not a potted plant.”

I can absorb, listen, do my “charitable” deed and remain impassive during the onslaught. But whoever said, I had to be a potted plant?

I raise questions, queries, perhaps bordering onto commentary at times, as to spiritual or save me, religious beliefs. The idea is to provoke discussion, to get thinking about the big picture that is so far beyond us most times that we can only see our feet. And yes, yes, life deals us blows that knock us over and we then become grateful for being able to see our feet, let alone the big picture.

Forgive me, I digress.

Why must certain religious persuasions be forced upon others?

Truly, I could care less what you believe, although I do draw the line at using your beliefs to manipulate or harm in any way others.

So why should anyone care if beliefs are in conflict as long as that very basic humanitarian goal is met?

I AM NOT A POTTED PLANT.

I will not just sit and take garbage that you have to believe only one way or the other. If I wake up tomorrow and decide I am one of the starpeople, so be it.

____

Editor’s Note: These links from the author will take you to some other people who have made it clear that they too are not potted plants:

Q&A WITH CHRISTOPHER LYDON

Reference to Brendan Sullivan Iran-Contra trial comment

Let’s suppose, the tears are real. What time period must pass, before the rest of the world accepts it, whether they believe in the Virgin Mary or not? Let me be frank, disclaimer, (do you hear the exclamation points?), we believe in the Virgin Mary, I’m not sure what her name is or if she was/is a Virgin, but I believe it does not matter, I believe, that her messages of kindness and humanity matter.

So, what now, if fast forward, months later, it cannot be disproved that there were actual tears, there in the store in Texas? The owners were not frauds, had no interst in being shot at or sued or disenfranchised, but simply stated what they saw to be their truth?

What then?

Does it matter?

Does it effect us?

Does “science” have a different explanation? Is science divorced from divinity?

Is there anything to believe? Does it matter if you do? I truly don’t care what you believe, I applaud simply your right to believe. But take a look, take a look at what I think are probably very good people believing in the goodness of humanity.

See below, not my article, resources are as credited below the title.

 

 

 

Virgin Mary Statue Appears to be Crying

link directly to article

Last Update: Mar 2, 2007 9:48 AM

Posted By: Walker Robinson

 

 

Some were calling it a miracle, a statue of the Virgin Mary here in San Antonio appeared to be crying Wednesday, and dozens of believers were stopping by to see it.The statue is at the store A&J Toys and Novelties on Colorado St. on the west side. People were crowding the store Wednesday night to get a peek.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like that,” one man said.

Water was seen coming from the statue’s eyes.

“I pass by here every day, and it’s just a miracle that it’s happening so close to where we live,” neighbor Delia Ramirez said.

Believers were emotional calling the statue a true blessing from above.

The store’s owner, Amelia Gutierrez, got the statue from Mexico on Sunday, and planned to put it in a raffle. But Wednesday morning, she said tears started pouring out.

“I don’t know if she’s trying to tell us something,” Gutierrez said. “We just have to pray, I guess.”

News 4 WOAI’s Aubrey Mika has been following this story. Click here to watch her report.

If you have questions or comments about this story, or you want to send us a story tip, please email News 4 WOAI’s Aubrey Mika at AubreyMika@woai.com.

Related Story:

Statue Stops Weeping; Faithful Keep Coming

See also:

Today Show

 

Come on.

Let’s get real.

We don’t get it.

Is there really a monopoly on one man’s thoughts so long ago?

What’s so wrong with the rest of us that we need to live, beholden, to others’ thoughts, of one person’s life?

What is the universal thread to language?

Is it the emotion within the words, the emotive energy?

I sat in a meeting today, many people, and noticed one person incline his head funny. He had answered his cell phone, tucked it under his ear and garbled into the phone: “iminameeting”.

I couldn’t hear him speak, but in the moment I paused to wonder what language he was speaking, I understood his words: I’m in a meeting.

What is the universal key to language? Is it visual? Emotive?
Icelandic langauge

Discovery Channel

One Man’s Blog

Many, many people I know and know of, speak of new stories, day after day, week after week, of those they love or admire or know of, that have gotten the diagnosis.

Time and time again, most of them are “fit”, non-smokers, etc.

It comes time to pause, what are we missing?

WHAT ARE WE MISSING?

Can we not do a survey and connect the dots? Are there no dots to connect? Why every time someone we know has to deal with this are they unsure where to turn? Traditional medicine? Traditional with alternative rememedies? Strictly mindpower/alternative?

There must be a way to create a web to decipher this issue. There has to be, there has to be, there has to be; because we all need to figure this out TODAY.

so? what should we do? judge not judge?

I mean, seriously, if the proponent does not embrace the system advocated, does it make the system worthless?

Or do we need a sliding scale?

Reports tell us following the Oscars – ?tell us? – or suggest, that perhaps Mr. Gore does not practice what he preaches. The difference between Talking the Talk and Walking the Walk.

So, let’s suppose, he doesn’t practice what he preaches, but the net effect is that, as a result of what he preaches, the planet has become 30% more green..now what?

See Points of Thought for Fun & Reflection

Call it what you will 

It doesn’t matter who is right.

What matters is what we can live with, what we believe, what we can do to lessen the burden on ourselves and others.

The fear of the unknown is vast, which is why we remained married to the past, no matter how scary, and why we skip over today to tomorrow in hopes of what might be.

What truly happens when we stand where we are?  When we breath and do not venture anywhere but where we are?  How difficult is it to quiet the active mind and in quieting the active mind, is there a mind left at all?  What is there then?

I always wondered at this statement. Some people don’t, to them it is simple and bravo for that ability, because they operate on a more clear level.

I have only now found what makes sense:

“Well, I’m no scientist, and certainly I don’t have Carl Sagan’s techinical understanding of the universe and our position within it. I simply believe that there’s a very organic, imeasurable consciousness of which we’re a part. I believe that this consciousness is a force so powerful that I’m incapable of comprehending its power through the puny instrument of my human mind. And yet I believe that this consciousness is so unimaginably calibrated in its sensitivity that not one leaf falls in the deepest of forests on the darkest of nights unnoticed.”

The Measure of a Man, by Sidney Poitier

Why would it matter if it were true?

Why would it be any less of a miracle and reason for faith?

Well: we’ve been told our reading of a blog is wrong and that no one claimed that Jesus wasn’t resurrected………if we misread, so be it, we’re looking for other opinions, to be “right” is to sometimes be blind anyway.

Here’s the original post. We’ll go approve the comment pointing out alleged errors. Anyone else with viewpoints?

Trolling through the tag surfers, we found an interesting article that somehow or other we might have missed if not for this blog…

http://thepulp.wordpress.com

A story tag reading: “James Cameron Takes on Jesus”.
The story goes, or might go, well, it does go, that Jesus was not resurrected and for over two decades, there has been knowledge that his tomb was elsewhere…we’re going to keep our eye on this blog and see what the press conference reveals today.

Perhaps we could have worded it better, when we said the story goes, we meant the recent news versions……….so apologies for any miscommunication born of poor word choice, ah, yet another argument for having a “word basket”.

See:

James Cameron takes on Jesus

For other views:

Academic Paper

Words to me have always carried weight. Energy. Tactile.

You can see a book or a post online and without fully reading the words, arrive at a sensation as to whether you want to go on.

The use of words can carry such great responsibility.

Suppose we had to earn the words we use? Suppose there were words that could never be earned?

Imagine a basket in front of you before you speak. You have to walk at least ten steps to reach it, then crouch down and take your hands and sift through the words you think you want or need to use. Then you measure the weight of the words on a scale of consequence. Only upon retracing the ten steps and placing the words on the ground in front of you, will you then begin to speak.

Who can shed more light on this?

Can someone?

I clicked on this post, do not know the full details or veracity, but after seeing a picture of a cell where a 9 yr old boy is allegedly held, I’m asking anyone out there, do you know what this is about?

http://www.latimes.com/search/la-na-immig10feb10_jd7pwonc,0,996949.photo

How do we know who we would be if we weren’t who we are?

I have sat here thinking, on and off, about the realm of possibility.

Reading the Way of the Peaceful Warrior

and

The Pilgrimage

* *
I wondered as to whether a limit exists as to human expansion.

One book, The Way of the Peaceful Warrior, heralded as part fiction/part truth; still sets forth the inherent possibilities in not just a life, but in a day and in the moments of each day and each breath.

The Pilgrimage, at least to this reader, is also a story of the warrior, but resonates with more God-like spiritual possibilities.

Is there an end to possibility?

Check out the following article and photos as to the “rare heavenly arc”

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/02/23/MNGD7O9UNL1.DTL

Silence is space.

It is a respite from acting who you are.

When first practicing silence, it can be awkward. People expect more chatter, more noise, more feedback. Your internal monitors may churn expecting the expectation of noise.

When practiced in small quantities, it clears the brain. There are so many different ways to achieve this. Swallow a comment that’s not necessary or provoked to fly out of your mouth before your heart has caught up. Breath before speaking. Not shallow breaths, but a pure intake and exhale, a clearing. Smile first and as your smile slowly unwinds, allow yourself to form the words.

You may not just be benefitting yourself, but countless others too.

Outside the borders of America, it is not expression and penalty ensues.

Inside the borders, we fight valiantly as to what means expression and whose right of expression is most prevalent.

Is it really just anyone’s guess?

http://www.indonesiamatters.com/260/lia-eden-trial/

Shocked.

CNN headlines proclaim: Pastor says he is “God”.

Do the numbers, 666, and God, belong in the same sentence? Empircally, yes, both are 3(s), so is the Holy Trinity. Huh, maybe that’s why it’s reported he has three Rolex watches?

The Church of the non-judgmental. Catchy, no?

Yes, until the stories/rumors of suppression of other faiths.

What is true and what isn’t?

Does the Pastor claim to have the same spark of Divine Light arguably within all of us, the essence of God? Is that what he means?

Does anyone know what he truly means vs. what the media is telling us what he means?

Read it, read it, read it, and tell us your thoughts:

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/02/16/miami.preacher/index.html

Veggie Tales teaches us that God would give us the power to love our enemies, love, all encompassing light, yes or no? Are there fine lines? Is there room for judgment? You be the judge.

copyright 2007, surface earth

I was asked to explain the meaning of love and found myself stalled.

If one needed to ask that question, was it even then possible to explain love in words?

There must be a place where things begin, beyond the surface of the earth, the pure origin. Unfiltered. Uninhibited. Filters affect the purity. To go back to the beginning and see yourself true. Untarnished.

Sitting in Court, waiting to be called, watching a little boy in a long hallway, his Grandma keeping an eye on him and two others. He’s fidgety having no place in his mind for a Court of law, rather than one of reason.

Grandma reaches in her bag, searching, I know that reach, she’s looking for distraction.

I hold out a few pens, his Grandma nods yes, he comes over, takes one and is back again to the paper in his Grandma’s lap.

He returns. “Do you have another? This one doesn’t write sideways.”

What is the measure and effect of thought?

Listen, we are old enough to not suscribe judgment.

We ask you a simple thing, you have orchestrated the formula of addiction, can you now provide us with the tool to non-addiction?

Those commercials you have been forced to make are no more than inducement for those of us inclined to go out and smoke more, because now we feel worse than ever.

But you know this right? You knew the points of our brain to addict us? Is it too much to hope you know how to truly un-addict us also?

We don’t care how much money you make, if you own a private jet or not, you can’t take it with you anyway, we just ask you to truly help us, stop making us feel bad for what you fed us to begin with- “share the secret”-you must know how to undo us, don’t you? We weren’t born wanting to be outcasts and prematurely dead.

 

My Open Letter to God            (Surface Earth: Copyright, 2006)

 

 

 

 

 

Dear God,

 

Dear Jesus,

 

Dear Lord,

 

Hey,

 

You,

 

Most respectfully.

 

 

 

 

I’ve been thinking. I’ve been reading, I’ve been studying, I’ve been questioning, obsessive, unable to sleep, unable to breathe, unable to be, trying to figure you out.

I’ve come to a conclusion, you don’t need to be figured out, do you? (Should that be a capital, like we do for judges, You? Your Honor?)

I’ve run away from Catholicism, into which I was born and bred.

I’ve wandered into the lost land of religions I have never known, having never been born into other sects in other lives, at least not that I remember.

I appreciated the old traditions of Catholicism, but could not understand its limitations. I moved to Buddhism thinking it was the furthest from anything I ever knew. I did not understand a word and felt as if an imposter, because instead of understanding the wisdom and inherent intellect of the Dalai Lama, a man who compelled me to want to hang his photograph on my walls for the mere wattage of his smile, I was only able to grasp, again and again, on the words, “loving kindness”.

I moved on to Kabbalah eventually, but first stepped back again into Catholicism. The virtual problem always encountered was my feeling of unworthiness. It did not matter that the pews were lined with hypocrites, thieves, corporate marauders, I only felt and saw my own infirmities, the girl who dared to stray from the righteous path. Oh, how little I yet was to know of Catholicism. Yet, there I went again, backing out the door, as the priest called us to disavow our sisters and brothers who were homosexuals, engaged in love without marriage, divorced or were faced with the soul wrenching choice of abortion. Jesus could not have cared, he could not have saved by condemnation.

I tiptoed into Kabbalah, drawn to the promise of mysticism. I learned to apply everyday behavioral modification techniques to teach myself not to judge. I wavered and stammered and tap danced around that one. Well what is judgment I want to know? When does it begin and when is it justified? Never was the response. Never, how could that be? Where would all of my righteous indignation go? Patience prevailed on my mentor and he kept at the same lesson, anger is dangerous and judgment is unnecessary, again and again. I was a slow learner, I had been through some less than fair situations in life, I wanted to place rightful anger somewhere, if only in my head. I don’t know what got me first, the idea of a vast nothingness of light which scared me and threatened my individuality, my someday to be discarded ego. I was too new to development, I did not understand that they had a point, I did not need my ego. I did learn though the tenants of fostering goodness to one another, daily, moment by moment without hesitation and without end.

I began to grasp the concept of oneness but felt diminished by my inability to truly grow. Was it because it had sprung from a different religious and cultural background and I felt the roots and the language without truly comprehending the origin? Had I fallen prey to negative media? No, in retrospect, my lack of knowledge made me feel smaller and smaller, highlighting my mental and spiritual infirmities, giving power to the bully, “you kidding me? You really believe that garbage? Look around you, there is no God.”

My ego’s need to be sane and rational and respected took over my gut and soul instincts. Was I simply not ready, not strong enough to consider myself part of the collective consciousness? I was humbled in the presence of the mere voice of Kabbalah, all forgiving, all knowing and without judgment. I was not yet strong enough.

I returned to Catholicism and loved the familiarity, the things I had grown with, knowing where to sit in the hard pews, sometimes even knowing the right time to kneel. I no longer worried about whether I genuflected at the right or wrong time, at the right or wrong angle, I simply let my heart bow to God, allowing my feelings of non-partisan spirituality and love of God to take over, feelings of grace, my heart simply lead my knee to bend in gratitude.

Trying on clothes in a dressing room with only one door in and out, faced with Fun House mirrors at three walls, disorientation had overcome me.

I began to read Sylvia Brown and bless that woman, my bones tell me she is the real thing. I began to learn that I could apply Kabbalah principles with Christian traditions I had come to love. The more I read and read and read, the more I saw and felt and lived the repetition of the common theme of love. To have love, is to erase the need for all other needs.

The underlying problem in trying out different religions is choosing to give up that which you have known. If I embraced Kabbalah, would I have to shrug off the mantle of the Virgin Mary and Jesus? I couldn’t, no matter how vast the picture and sensation of infinite light, Jesus’ face remained. And Mary, Azna, Mother God, she lived within breath. I know she is real, please don’t ask me how. I don’t care for statistics and sightings and tests and visualizations. Well, sure maybe I do, my point is simply, that I feel her.

I have gone into spiritual demise. I have watched and read about the Lost Gospel of Judas. Of course! Jesus is all knowing. He knew what Judas was or wasn’t, small surprise that we do not; rest assured, we will continue for monetary, economic, political, social, cultural or any other myriad of reasons to insist on the one interpretation of Jesus. For Pete’s sake, we can’t even remember our own dreams or what we ate for breakfast. Was Judas bad? Nah. Of course not. Why would Jesus choose him to carry out his fate? Did he tell Jesus, “thy will be done”? Jesus could not be tricked or betrayed, that is simply beneath him.

I have invited my arch angels and my spirit guides to come into our home when one of our daughters was facing inexplainable fatigue and headaches. Lights went on an off at different times in our home, certainly not in keeping with a power surge. The television surged and pulsed and practically danced. I asked them kindly to please enter more slowly in a way that would stop scaring me half to death as it wasn’t my time yet. I think they agreed. They are more subtle these last few days. Leaves that blow around the sidewalk out of nowhere, making a staccato beat, drawing my attention and then bowing and dancing. Pure artistry.

There are those that have contributed to the falsity of faith healing. It is unknown why people are compelled. I don’t question the participants that are impoverished, that perhaps received a sandwich, a promise of a bag of rice, a moment of peace before infidels or legitimate governments invaded their families, but how about the one that orchestrates it? Are they any different than a politician? A lawyer? A doctor that has lost heart? A teacher who does not teach? A parent who does not love?

Your truth echoes in the most simple of ways, the warmth that radiates though my bones causing my hands to become upturned to receive grace. It is that simple.

I have no problem, any longer, I can’t say that was always true, but I have no problem any longer not blaming you for what happens to us Lord. False persecution, so what? I should be insulted? We do it to each other everyday. “She cut me off, what a horrible person.” How do I know she was not rushing to the hospital to see a relative who unexpectedly encountered medical emergency? Is there truly any difference? Either one is character assignation and judgment without proof.

Am I religious?

I don’t know.

Do I believe in you?

Yes.

I believe in You/you, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and Mary. I believe there are saints. I believe there are angels. I believe there is evil, that sometimes there can be no other rational explanation, but I believe evil is our inability to discover our souls.

The sickness of the false messiahs brings bad publicity to you, to Jesus.

There are miracles, there are the unexplainable moments and times that are pure miracles, leaps of faith. Why do people claim that power when its only source has ever been and could only be you? Didn’t you tell us everything is there for our taking, we must only see? Electricity was discovered, not invented, right God?

Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t know anymore than the next person, but I hold certain things to be true. If you say one thing and do another you are hypocritical. If you are aware of it and don’t own up to it, you are a coward. If you gossip, you cause bad air to fly and it will come back to you, and yes, the smallest utterances are gossip. If you speak to satisfy your ego, you will receive less than you desired because you have already lost your state of grace.

How do we sit together in loving Christian kindness and denounce “others”, who, more often than not, are closer to God whether they believe in him or not, simply in acts of kindness and their reliability of spirit?

 

**

 

God, I’m back, I don’t know if I am just chatter in your head or if my voice sings with others.

A bluebird landed in my tree.

He sat high above the purple flowers

Which grew and grew

Taller

Although I didn’t even know their name

It did not stop the trees or the flowers from growing

 

God

A tulip grew out from behind the

Red dirty rock

Next to the untended cement sidewalk

And a tulip sought to make its presence known

Next to the bend

Of that same untended sidewalk

I tried to unearth it with a shovel

Before the purple of the tulip

Grew

The ground would not give

 

God

The trees are spreading

Their limbs across the gray

Of today’s sky

Purple, red and pink strewn together

They will not last the storm

Yet they have never been

More exuberant

Than set against the

Mist and the closed sky

 

God

My child

Said

“Oh My God”

Not in praise

But in exasperation with my

Confused new to almost middle age ways

I continued breathing

God

I saw on television

An almost tall white man

Performing miracles

Later

Undone

You did not star in that show

 

God

I held an egg today

Cracked it

To take out the yolk

Because I can’t bear to eat

Someone else’s young

Who was the first to know

That to take the egg from the mother

Would give complete protein

And not kill her

Who decided

The egg was not an egg

When South Dakota says it is?

 

God

In your infinite wisdom

Did you leave us a travel guide?

The best spots

The best words

The best reactions?

Were they rated in stars?

Have you had overzealous editors so now

Your words are no longer yours?

 

 

 

 

Thoughts on living

Living thoughts

 

 

Dear Lord,

I pray today,

Because of you.

Today I missed Mass God.

I awoke at 8:30 a.m. – quite late for me on a Sunday morning. I wanted to go to mass. I felt quite desolate that it had been two weeks since. I awoke as the rest of the house slept, ran out for the Sunday papers, stole a moment to read and drink coffee and left my beautiful family asleep.

I arrived at church and saw next to no cars. The people I saw look accomplished upon leaving. Wait, wait, I thought, I am unfinished, I have just arrived.

I hurried in the door, stopping to glance at the greeting table, a lovely polished wood that seemed to hold all I would need to know to be a practicing Catholic in this town.

The lovely newness of this church, the beginning of the mass, to walk though this room of grace and openness and splendor with just one table with papers, and newsletters and charts upon which to fill your name—if you are lost, we can find you, it seemed to say. So I believed.

I walked to that table, because I had seen it before.

I was no longer worried if I dipped my hand too soon into the Holy water, if I genuflected before I should or at the wrong angle, and that thing everyone seemed to know how to do in their sleep, that three point wonder, the thumb dancing across their forehead, their middle face and their heart? I no longer worried if I did it right. “Peace be with you.” “And also with you,” I said from my heart, with my hands turned up to God with arms outstretched.

I still did wonder sometimes though how I was never taught that three point wonder. How could I have missed it all of those years? Sure, I didn’t go to parochial school daily but I attended Catechism classes, I took the nuns seriously even as I walked along the rock wall outside of St. Anthony’s afraid they would see me, the sinners’ child, the divorced one.

How could it be, all those Saturday evenings at St. Brendan’s, mandatory Saturday evening mass with dinner at Howard Johnson’s afterward, my grandfather singing Louis Armstrong so I didn’t know where the jukebox began and his voice ended? My grandmother daring to order dessert after picking through cottage cheese and fruit for dinner, taking 45 minutes longer than the rest of us to finish her meal? My brother and I climbing in and out and over and under the table, and my grandmother sitting there, unperturbed, seeing only her little world. How could that be?

 

Because we see what we see Lord,

What we choose to see.

None of us are right or wrong.

I simply went to Mass to tune in to you.

 

 

 

Hi.

 

Did you know I started to go to healing masses? Yes, I felt much like my debacle mass after mass with the three point gesture and became further indignant that no one ever taught me how to pray the rosary. Thank you for letting us discover the Internet, where I looked for remedial Catholicism courses.

Yes. I went to healing masses. Yes, I watched the news. I know the media was not supporting miracles, but listen, I saw them for myself, ok? The sweet surrender to the Holy Spirit, coming back from the ground lying prone, the flood of tears after a blessing, the tears uncontrollable for ten or fifteen minutes. Did you know Lord, it was only after the Mass that I learned of Padre Pio and the flood of tears? All the priest said to me is “let you be flooded with happiness”, and I cried and cried, my right arm shaking, unable to wipe away or stop the tears. I knew then Lord, I knew to stop fighting the miracle of you, despite the fact of not being surrounded by anyone who believes. The more I thought God, the more I knew, I never should have needed the flood of tears, I should have just seen the less than loving actions of my contemporaries to know there must be something higher.

I still missed mass that day Lord and have not returned regularly since then because you live in me, I don’t mind joining in, but I won’t condemn in prayer. Did you make me forget to turn the clocks?

 

 

 

 

I woke up flat God.

I woke up uneven.

Doesn’t make sense does it? How can I be flat and uneven at the same time? Did you know it was heresy to state that the world was round? That’s what we are when we are even, Lord, we are round, circular, without beginning or end.

Today I stayed quiet through my flatness. I didn’t take it out on anyone. It was a big day for me.

Did you ever jam to music? Let your arms fly about and get lost and by getting lost get found? I know, they say you are Light. They say you are all encompassing and can be nothing and everything at once, but by being everything you also become nothing as we know it.

I think though Lord, that you might be dancing, your face turned toward the light, and not just only the light itself. I hope I get no hate mail from saying this, but I believe you sing and dance, and I think your voice might be slightly off-key.

 

**

 

My mind shifted to the right

At first I thought

That I was lightheaded

Sugar balance off

 

I blended with the air

There was no distinction

Not gray against white against green

Not blue against the yellow of the sun

 

My mind shifted to the right

I felt the quiet pleasure of

Pushing that space away

 

I wondered and worried

Not knowing what it meant

 

Then today

I stood there n the kitchen

The coolness of the counter against my hand

My mind shifted to the right

Making room

 

 

 

If I smelled the lilac

In the hall

And no one was there

Would I be wrong?

 

If I dreamed of a big open book

With golden edging

A dove flying from its middle

Tendrils of ivy from its beak

Mid air

Would I be wrong?

 

**

 

Good evening God.

I feel like sometimes I need a sabbatical from my brain. I don’t feel that way right now, well, not entirely, but I would like a sabbatical for the blocks I have put in my mind that keep me from seeing how to grow.

How to devote my life to writing, creativity, art, the continued search and study of spirituality, gardening, playing with the kids, quiet meals with my family, simply loving my husband.

It’s as if I spent this earthly life with a purpose of building fences to keep myself from expanding from my soul. And on top of that choose to be a litigation attorney, joke is on me, right?

 

*

 

I live in the abyss of heavens

In the valleys on earth

Striving for the moments

Of existence

Yet uncounted

 

I sit in a crowd

Of those who judge and ferment

And never do I hear the word “God”

 

I scratch my head and wonder

Why I don’t have the answers

When I was raised to have the answers

To not

Was to be defenseless

 

I scratch upon the table

The numbers

The figures

To tell me

Who is cheating whom

 

I smile

Because there is no sense in frowning

Jesus loved all

Who am I

To love less?

 

Asking for a sign

Receiving one after another

I share and am met with disbelief

 

M grandfather standing in the parking lot

Of the local foodstore

Watching me pull out of my parking space

But waiting first

To make sure

The elderly couple next to me

Were done

Were safe

 

He stood there

I thought scowling at first

Preconceiving me to be

A young whippersnapper

 

And then

He pushed down his cap

Hooked his index finger

To his thumb

It’s ok, kiddo

He said

Thanks.

 

Ten years gone from this earth

I stopped

Then started

A smile

A nod

Letting him go.

 

I have tried

To take care of those

He left behind

I have, haven’t I?

Haven’t I tried?

Lord

Didn’t I try

Can you read me?

 

**

 

Why don’t I talk to you? Wouldn’t it make more sense? Why do I send you a letter? Am I really that worried that too many others are begging at the same time?

We humans are like ants scurrying for the hills, knowing the big human feet are above us and can stamp us out for no reason at all, but continuing our predictable patterns to the end.

Where do we begin and end Lord?

Is it with the talking animals? Do we save those we respect and slaughter the others? Even if that means expanding the definition of our fellow brothers and sister?

I’m sorry, but I just don’t get it, no one has given us the text book of the earth, and if they have, we’ve borrowed and copied and altered and destroyed and have left only those pages that suit us.

How can I sit in my lush home on a Sunday morning and see a young girl in Dafur, a photograph in time spread against my kitchen table, of a young girl raped? How can I possibly go on with my day when a child, only one, has been shot in the foot by those same rapists, tattooing her for the fate ahead? How can I possibly bear my own privileged existence?

 

* *

Dear Lord:

 

There must be answers somewhere. I’m simply not clever or learned enough to find them, but I know they are here.

All my life, all I have ever wanted to do is write, primarily, to get people to understand humanity, that we are all one. That there is no beginning and no end and what you do to my brother or sister, you do to me. Lines of politics, sex, national origin, religion, are simply just excuses for us not to help one another.

Did you know this is my land Lord? The land stolen is now ours? The one they want to build walls around so starving children can remain starving? Who is wrong Lord? Us or them? Or me for even fashioning a question that includes an us and them?

Can I ever wirte Lord without worrying that what I write is not worthy? Or what I write will not be misconstrued, pulled into something that was never intended? A plaything for my unintended audience? Do I dare to be silent the rest of the years You have given me here? Is that my lesson? To shut up and be quiet and hide in the face of so much atrocity? To suffer it, a self inflicted martyr? Or a willing accomplice?

Many of the ones who seek to do justice in this world dispense judgment, right or wrong, without regard to the injustice they hand out, is that right Lord? Does one balance the other? I know it doesn’t but I watch the news and no one cares, even me, as I stop at the food store stocking up for my family and my family alone.

At any rate Lord, you know me, right down to the center of my soul, far removed from my heart, lower, deeper, higher, more shallow, everywhere and nowhere. Simply almost undetectable here on earth-you know what I’m about. You know I’d love more guidance, a simple how-to book to make the world better, but heck, I’m 39, in earthly standards, I’ve been waiting awhile and it’s not here. Help me Lord. Just give me a list. Tell me how to stop the hurting.

 

**

 

God is here. God is here. God is here.

Allow him to use you.

Without those words, myself and many like me would be lost. How do you meander through a day? How do you forget the grace of each miracle that gives you a day?

God has spoken and he has said that you should love and show forgiving kindness.

This same statement echoes throughout the majority of all religions, why then, are we so lost? What is there to figure out? Forgive and forget. Continue to love. Leave anger at the door. It never means that we go back for more abuse, nor does it mean that we gossip or cause harm to others, no matter what they may have done to us. We move on, in loving kindness.

Dear Lord:

Has there been a moment when you have simply shaken your head? Forgotten where you are in the script, where the director left off and the actors took over? I doubt that. Free will. Really, just two words, but oh so powerful. They give us both ownership and liability, the two never to be divorced.

I have seen you and felt you, both in the moments when people watch and what they don’t. As cool as it is Lord to say I love you, people still look askance and wonder if someone loving Jesus is just a freak who doesn’t have a job.

Can you help us?

 

 

**

 

Hi God. I woke up again today. It’s a lovely day. Thank you.

What do we do? As we wait? We start up blogs, we look for people of similar interests to join together and get ideas going, get momentum tha will have any chance of actually accelerating into anything close to a change.

The format isn’t perfect, we would need money to do that, but it’s a start, why not help each other within zipcodes? Why not strengthen from within and move out?

I rode down the road the other day, 35 miles from home. It was a route that took me through many different faces.

I watched, toward the end of my drive, a police officer, stop all traffic heading toward primarily government and university work, to allow the children to cross for school. A neighborhood where the “crossing guard” needed a certified gun. I watched him stop traffic to give this one family at least the chance to cross the road. A car, impatient, insisted on taking a left turn before it was clear. The police officer’s face turned red with disgust and frustration…….I watched, almost late to Court……….why did this young man have to take his time to explain to someone why it was important to lead tomorrow’s adults safely across the street? Were there words to explain the shame of us all that it was even necessary to have to accompany young children across the street, that we, as collective parents of today’s children, could not do better?

Is there a line that should not be crossed in giving?

When you give of yourself, is there a point when you give too much, leaving yourself depleted and with less to give in the end?

Is there a point when it is not selfishness to preserve yourself, because in the preservation, you maintain a more solid foundation from which to give?

By accruing wealth, and then determining how to expend it, do you in essence give more?

Or is it in working in a non-profit sector, where perhaps you give more each moment, that there is more to give?

Does it matter, as long as you are truly giving?

no, not my words. just a shared feeling. wanted to put up the YouTube link to the video, just not sure it’s not copyright infringement.

Watch it, however you can, whatever is legal: John Mayer: Waiting on the World to Change

Then tell me, why is it that we are waiting?

I read an interesting piece in this week’s New York magazine, entitled: The Have Lots and the Have Nots”.

The premise was to expound upon the disparity of wealth in New York and to fairly try to depict, is the existence of such vast wealth a bonus or a negative or is it at least a positive if it helps one person?

I don’t know. I know that we may feel we don’t need to help fellow adults, hey, they have the same opportunity as everyone else to get ahead right? But then some feel we have an obligation to help the children of those same adults because the children don’t have much of a chance to get ahead.

Then again, today’s adults were yesterday’s children and so on.

It’s two days later. The holiday for children is now passed.

What hasn’t passed is an image we saw, a moment in time………

Gangs of kids were running together up and down the street, groups together, laughing, talking…………..

Up the road come a girl, the same age as the groups of other children, but she held the hand of a younger child, a boy, maybe her brother, and a grandmother marched slightly ahead of them with a flashlight…..

In that moment, maybe we added more to the story than truly existed, but watching the young girl’s straight back, her sure steps, her firm hold on her brother’s hand…we wondered how she felt surrounded by all of the other kids.

Did they know her? Ignore her? Did no one else invite her to trick or treat with them?

It reminded us that even today, there are children for no set reasons, who do not have friends and go through their days watching others enjoy natural friendships and wonder what is wrong with them. Yet, as adults we know there is nothing wrong with them, somehow they fell outside of the social track, and in many case, it will be a long and hard road.