Revisiting Autumn Journal

I spent some time the other day revisiting my journal entries from the past.  This one stood out as a milestone to my continued amazement at the apparent circular nature of life choices on our paths.  Where, like Pooh Bear, each endeavor leads back to the Sand Pit of our efforts to get home.

In dialog do we let our hopes fly ~

into the dark, unlit caverns of our foreboding.

Our trusted beloved accompany us

so that together,

we are encouraged. Zen of Chance

I visited the VA yesterday and discovered some aspects of me that had not been so clear.  I had paved a road of self- sufficiency for decades. This self assurance was challenged when I found myself in a situation of asking for assistance; it was not so very comfortable.  The VA had other agenda's, I suspected, to suckle the power of being able to affect.  But that's another insight I could be convincing myself is the overarching truth.  I am adverse to labor in situations where the return does not merit the invested effort or time.  Or, and this is more my case, I see a dearth of disrespect.  Be that to me, or others. Plane and simple, abuse suffocates me, I cannot remain indifferent for any length of time; hell I can't even gather the resolve to endure the prospect of it! 

   "So Mister Cuddy.." the education assistant queried,

   "...why don't you want to work having obtained your MBA?" 

   "Well ma'am, it’s like this…" I replied.

   "One day I had this clarity to see I no longer wanted to fix other people's problems."

She sighed while nodding,

    "I so understand you"

It's not for the lacking that we touch, but for the encouragement in our shared efforts to be authentic.  There is a cycle of power- parched souls in society who along with us, despise the situation but feel powerless to dampen the momentum.  I can only say how I feel, this day of realization that I am not beholding to some agency, person or situation for my self- esteem.  I've a tissue thin health in the notion that I don't have to be accepted. Having thus far passed the obstacle of approval, I am a bit dazed to stand in the ashes of the dross.  Victor Frankl wrote,

   " What is to give light must endure burning"

You have no choice but surrender to the trials that strip away all that does not aid you in being who you were born to be....genuine.

Candle Lite

At the small American casern I was stationed at, near Nuremberg Germany, we had a candle lighting ceremony on Christmas Eve at midnight; to welcome the Christ birth celebration. The Pastor would light his candle, then light his wife's and then the rest of his family's.  He would then stretch out his candle and ignite the one held by the congregations organist; who in turn would light her husbands and their nearby children. On and on the fire serpentine would silently progress.  Pew to pew, row to row. Midway through the solemn ritual the heating fans of the sanctuary came on and the downdraft was so strong it effectively extinguished every flickering candle. 

   No matter the efforts to shield with our hands, the gushing dosed every candle in the room, leaving us to stand in silent stillness of the soft pale moonlight filtering in the windows by the seasonal full moon.  The congregation stood, hushed by this unexpected event. The Pastor, without hesitation, pulled out his lighter and while flicking the flint softly said,
   "Let’s try this again."

From my vantage point, I could see the silhouettes of all the parishioners lean forward with their candles ready for the flame.
There were no arguments, or discussion, just the collective and universal act of desire for light.

That episode revisits me every time I am confronted with being in an unknown, unfamiliar situation.  It's been well over twenty years since that ceremony, but some days it seems like just last night.
   My resolve was forged that night to be like that lit candle where and when I am able.  Share my light readily and expansively. On those occasions I may be extinguished, lean forward confidently to where I know there is a source; then be rekindle.  There is an essential truth in this action, a natural tendency; a quiet commitment to our shared heritage…our sacred legacy.

Two Cats in The Window

I'm sure you're familiar of the sudden startle of arriving someplace without a clear memory of the steps you took to get there. (Mostly mental ~ while walking hopefully, but sometimes that happens when driving as well.) It can lead to amusement often as not. I was sitting in my 8am lecture where the professor was describing decision making steps; where the first step was to define what it was you wanted. (I was nodding to sleep here, as if someone has to explain the principal of want to me? And to then give me examples no less.)

    But Professor Bob was using the example of him and his wife deciding on what type of car to purchase. He mentioned that a really good sound system was important to him. I mentally wandered off to remembering being a kid and riding to the lake in the back of my uncle’s station wagon listening to Cosby, Sill, Nash and Young on a really poor eight track player, (yes, I'm old, they invented rope right around the time I was born). Anyway, thinking about that group led me to a specific song they recorded that I really liked; OUR HOUSE, then I recalled how one day my son Luke 'modified' the lyrics of that song. I could hear him singing it in my head,

   "...With two cats in the yard, life use to be so hard, now everything is easy cause of you...ooh...ahh" was how the song went...

But his version was;

  "With two cats in the window, with a taste for human flesh"

My chortling was misunderstood by the Professor as tacit approval of his languishing story~ so he continued to drone on for another ten minutes, past our prescribed lecture time.

I was convinced there and then

the class in toto

hated my guts.