Making Love to Life

A dear Friend, Ray, an elderly gentleman who I noticed as he walked silently by (week after week… going about his business in a dignified, stately, and private manner), made an impression on my Spirit, with the beauty of his Spirit. “Please forgive my intrusion, My Friend” I said with a hand raised in a ‘please stop’ gesture, “but I am compelled to tell you that your eyes, your comportment, the very countenance of you, all speak together to say that the Man behind all is a man of worthy and noble character. I want you to know that your regular passing of this spot, where I sit, has blessed me, and made my world a better place, for your Presence in it.”


Ray (being a very shy and introverted man) blushed with this extremely out-of –the-ordinary declaration and thanked me. “You are quite welcome” was my simple reply and I immediately returned my attention to the work that was before me, so that he would feel no requirement for further engagement. This “sense it, say it, leave it” (my words…not his) methodology, was gleaned from the teachings of Leo Buscaglia, a Teacher, Lecturer, and Motivator of the mid-to-late 1900’s. The key elements, as taught by him, were to ask (and by the asking make clear your respect for and appreciation of the ‘space’ of the other) for “forgiveness for the intrusion.” Then, after your message has been stated, remove yourself straightway to make clear the absence of any hidden agenda ... thereby giving a complete sense of safety, to the Individual upon whom you have just intruded.


Ray and I, over time, became quite good Friends. And it was on one of our more lengthy visits (which, with Ray, were hardly more than fifteen minutes… [for him constituting something of a marathon of dialog]) that he and I had the following exchange. “John-Michael, I have to tell you that I envy the frequent and varied relationships that you seem to enjoy. I am so shy and retiring that I could never be as open and free with myself as you are. It is clear that you do genuinely love all of these people with whom I see you interacting and they, you, in return. That is something that I must say that I do envy.” “Ray, My Dear Friend," I replied "I make love to all of the world around me every moment of every day. But, Ray, you speak of the glory and warmth of your relationship with your wife, who you clearly adore, and by your comments, make clear, to any observer, the fact that she participates equally in her adoration of you. You go home, after witnessing my daily love-fest with Life, to her ... and immerse yourself in the totality of that love. I go home alone. Ray… I envy you.” We exchanged understanding smiles.


“Making love to Life” is the most accurate portrayal of my living. Intimate engagement in the most compelling of life’s elements … the core of Life (for want of a better term) … is the level at which I sense, acknowledge, and respond to my World. I take no notice of roles or titles for I have played many roles in business, religion, society, and family … and have done so wearing the many varied ‘hats’ appropriate to the roles (and did it all quite well and even to the laudation of each relevant world). And, in the doing, I learned the temporal nature of such things … passing; for the moment; and then to be gone as though never there. But Love, whether revealed in unspoken, distant appreciation or intimate exchange for the briefest, or more prolonged, engagement … is forever.


I am simultaneously saddened, and challenged, by the climate of today’s social, political, religious, and cultural atmosphere. Anger, vehemence, criticism, castigation, condemnation, confrontation, and refusal to respect, appreciate, or even consider the perspective of another, is the comfortably accepted norm. I simply cannot participate in (what I consider to be) this sickness. The twisting of the Soul of a participant is the price-tag for involvement that I would rescue all within my domain from paying. I have chosen to demonstrate the satisfactions, joys, happiness, and comfort of embracing others in the exercise of admiration, recognition, appreciation, adulation, and yes, even love.


This choice of behavior is not without pitfalls. I have found no models after which I may follow. There are, to my knowledge, no systems for the practice of such behavior that would have all potential misunderstandings and miscues worked out. I, therefore, find myself blazing a new trail with all of the elements of risk and even danger befitting such an adventure. But the quest is far and away worth the scrapes and bruises encountered along the way. I can endure the passing looks of skepticism, doubt, uncertainty, and even rejection encountered (thankfully ... with extreme rarity) amongst the more frequent and almost constant smiles of appreciation, satisfaction, enjoyment, and even surprised delight that my behavior evokes. This is “making love to my world” as I am called by the conviction of my Heart to practice it.


(originally penned, 2004)

Please accept my invitation to spend a few moments with some Friends who express my convictions ... in their own, beautiful, way ...

Peace Through Music Film Clip: Playing for Change from Playing For Change on Vimeo.

I do Love You, my Dear Friend ... and thank You for sharing these moments with Me.



IMAGES: Through the gracious courtesy of Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com

Online Friends

Thoughts of Daddy

I don’t remember ever calling him “Daddy” in my younger, and even ‘middle,’ years. But it was always what my Soul called him. He and I were not comfortable with each other. We were not comfortable with the world around us.

I was his first child … and he repeatedly made it clear that I was an inconvenient intrusion on his honeymoon. The termination of my presence was something looked forward to … and I got the message (loud and clear) that when the time necessary for my raising was exhausted … there was no place for me under his roof. Sitting around his dinner table (after divorce had removed the Element of conflict from between my mother and me) there was some discussion about all of those years between my leaving home, and rekindling contact. Mom wanted some help in understanding (or, better yet … wanted me to suffer through an attempt at justification for) the twenty-plus years that we did not speak. The wedding that I chose to not invite them (any of my immediate family) to; the children who did not know that they had grandparents (on my side) or an aunt, uncles, cousins, and on and on. “How could you live like that without it bothering you?” I was asked.

“It was really quite simple” I replied. “I had lived so many years hearing the house, that I lived in, referred to, by my parents, in phrases like “as long as you live in my house …” that I had no difficulty in understanding that it was not OUR house. I was living, out of a temporary necessity, in YOUR house. So, first … it was never ‘home,’ and secondly … it was, quite clearly, not MY home. When you are raised to understand that you are an unwelcome intruder into someone else’s world … leaving, and then dismissing, that world, is to rid oneself of the burden of being constantly reminded, of your ‘unwelcome alien’ status.” And, at that point, I recall looking around the table … and seeing looks (on all faces present there) that showed the light of an awareness that silently said “Oh! I remember saying those things. Oops! Didn’t know that they would be taken so literally.” And, in Daddy’s eyes … I saw the “oh shit!” look. A well-recognized look of having failed … yet again. That look that, certainly not for the first time in our pilgrimage, gave me cause to feel oh-so-badly for him.

For, you see, Dear Reader Friend, I have always sensed that Daddy wanted to experience a tender and yes, intimate, relationship with me (in fact, with All in his world.) But, alas, he never had a clue how to allow that to happen. Raised by a man who knew only military discipline (my granddad served in the U S Coast Guard [after the dismantling of the Lighthouse Service] as a civilian Keeper of navigational aids in and around the manatee River and outer Tampa Bay. He bore the total responsibility for raising his three sons, after his wife [Daddy’s Mom] passed away, early in their lives.)

There was NO affection, nurturing, tenderness, encouragement, praise, or even remote validation in that home. Only discipline. Orders, and punishment, for orders not perfectly followed. So … poor Daddy … he had all of his feelings, yearnings, desires, and emotions … all stored, pent up, confined, and compartmentalized … and for the first time in his life he had a window of opportunity for releasing them all … and having them eagerly accepted, embraced, and appreciated. He had his wife. Bliss! Then ... he became a father. And the full weight of parenthood landed on his unprepared shoulders. And the only script that he had for that role … was the one given him by his father. And he hated that script. But it was all that he had. Hence, the Conflict, that my presence, visited upon him. And no more, the freedom to explore all of those neglected, suppressed, and denied inner workings of his most passionate and caring Self. Responsibility and duty were, once again, his masters.

( My suspicions of the presence of a complex, of hidden aspects of his inner Self, were confirmed with Mom’s sharing, with me [fairly recently], his letters written whilst they were courting [and he was away in the service of the U S Navy.] She stumbled upon the letters [long forgotten] as she delved into the bowels of ‘The Cedar Chest.’ That vessel of ancient Treasures holding all of her life’s artifacts and mementos. She phoned me, in excitement and with an urgent need to share these resurrected Intimacies. It was with an obvious sense of wonder, and even surprise, that she read Daddy’s words of endearment. He was open, unguarded, romantic, insightful, empathetic, and yes … even poetic, in his messages to the first person who he had ever been able to expose those beautiful aspects, of his inner Self, to. As I listened, I heard (in the background of recollection) a lifetime of Mom’s chiding and belittling remarks about what she deemed to be “the inherited inability of the Brown boys to have any sense of romance, tender affection, or regard for the feelings of, anyone.” I had heard such declarations so frequently, and openly, made, for so many years, that their echo was deafening. And then, here she was … over the phone, reading words that reminded her … and informed me … that my Dad was, in fact, a gentle and caring Romantic. Further confirmation, to my predisposed and sensitized mind, that my birth had confused and discouraged Daddy’s sensibilities and capabilities. No wonder, indeed, that he felt so threatened and resentful of the circumstance of Parenthood interrupting his first chance to live out all that had been denied him before falling in love with Mom.)

Equipped as I am with the Temperament and Nature that is mine, I had been keenly conscious (throughout all of those years of his rigidity and frustrated anger) of an unidentified current that flowed beneath Daddy’s well-rehearsed surface. So, as I said earlier, I knew … but had no definition for … another Being that was him. For many years he and I battled that unspoken, invisible, and troublesome ghost relationship. Prior to my leaving home (at age twenty-one) … and then after our reuniting (at age forty-three) we had both struggled with what we sensed that we wanted to realize … but had no facility for claiming.

And then, Life gave me the Gift of understanding and appreciating the beauties of freed and enjoyed thoughts and feelings. Thankfully, I was (in Daddy’s final few years) able to celebrate telling him that I love him … at my parting, after every visit. And to tell him with the tag of “Daddy.” “I sure do love you Dad,“ I would say. His discomfort and unease lessened noticeably over time. Even more wonderful is the way that he accepted my Heart’s message … embraced it … and learned to share it between us. Unfortunately, I am the only one of his children, in whom he found that sweet Place. But I am so delighted that I was given the lovely opportunity to invest those few years that were required to nurture it into reality, for us.


I tell you, Precious One, these things … so that you can grant yourself (and perhaps some specific Others) some measure of patience and maybe even forgiveness. I give this to you, to offer real and tangible Hope, for what can be … now that you know that good stuff can be born out of yucky stuff. Daddy and I want you to know that. [smile]

I do love You … really!

I Dare You!

Come on! I dare You! Join with me, and our Neighbors, from around our little planet, and I dare You to try, to go away, not singing this as you go. You singing it right there ... me singing it here ... our Spirits rocking and swaying together across all of those puny boundaries that would keep us apart. I like it!!

Stand By Me | Playing For Change | Song Around The World from Concord Music Group on Vimeo.

By the way ... Have I told You, lately, that I love You?

Well ... consider it said.

[loving smile]

Our "Realm of Phenomenological Awareness"

To be confronted by a face registering absolute vacuity, is an experience intimately known to most (if not, indeed, all) parents. To see a complete absence of any willingness to understand or the total disregard for all that you are trying to convey, is the all-to- frequent plight of those who bear the burden of teaching, molding, informing, and/or nurturing. And, alas, this phenomenon presents itself to us, not only in this domestic setting, but, indeed, throughout our lives … in countless forums.

Attempting an explanation of involved circumstances, affecting tardy school assignments, to a Teacher who has “heard it all before;” explaining the importance of delivery requirements, to those upon whom those timely deliveries are entrusted; conveying the significance of repairs required by appliances, vehicles, or technical equipment to a 'Service Person;' engagement in the attempt to enlist the involvement of any Other in whatever matter having importance to us … all are, oh-so-often, met with that blank stare, of disconnected disinterest. They do not see any consequence in their acknowledgment of what is offered.

How often have we all asked the unanswerable “Why don't you understand how important this is?!” And we, then, plunge back into a redoubled effort to overcome the ambivalent absence of that Other's interest. “Why am I failing to make them understand?!” we demand of ourselves. And, time and time again, we retreat with a sense of personal failure. Our normal and usual response is to feel responsible for having failed to make clear, and impart, our intensely felt sense of urgency, to that Child, Teacher, Service Person, or Significant Other. We wrap ourselves, anew, in that bedraggled Cloak of Failure, yet again. For, my Dearest Reader, 'tis true! We have, indeed, failed. Why?

For an answer that we can feel has some objective and legitimate basis, I ask you to consider, with me, the lesson offered by the eminent medical doctor, psychologist, and founder of the School of Individual Psychology … the late Alfred Adler (7 February 1870 – 28 May 1937.) Adler is considered, along with Freud and Jung, to be one of the three founding figures of depth psychology, which emphasizes the unconscious and psychodynamics.

It is the Gift of an awareness, of the reality of each of our individual “Realms of Phenomenological Awareness,” that Dr. Adler has given me. He gave me a consciousness of our control of all that is Reality to us … by our willingness to open our awareness to any phenomenon. Unless I allow my mind to acknowledge the presence of anyone or anything … that person or phenomenon is not a Reality to me. It, or they, simply do not exist. I exercise complete control (as you do) over everything that my mind is introduced to. If I am not impressed with the worth, significance, or merit of some individual or circumstance to me and/or my life … it is dismissed from my individual “realm of phenomenological awareness.” I have not appraised them, or it, to have any consequence to me. It, or they, are (quite bluntly) Inconsequential.

So, don't you see, that Child, or that Teacher, Service Person, or Significant Other, do not know what I am saying (or indeed who I am at that moment) as a Reality to themselves … unless I have made them aware of some consequence that will affect them (positively or negatively) and triggered some catalyst that will open their door of awareness, into that Realm, that they and they alone control. When I learned … and accepted as Fact … this Truth, I began to enjoy a respect for everyone else's right to their own Realities … their individual right to determine what, and who, is of consequence to them. And I accepted my personal responsibility for the introduction of any new awareness that I might want to have someone else acknowledge, as part of their Realm of Phenomenological Awareness.

When I am confronted with that blank stare of incredulity or rejection … I know that I have failed either to appropriately evaluate the One to whom I am attempting a communication (perhaps they are not a suitable prospect for my thoughts or concepts) … or, if they are, indeed, the right subject for what I have to offer, I may need to repackage my message in a way that will earn a place of consequence in their estimation. Maybe I, and what I am offering, are simply not significant enough to impress them. I might, just possibly, be quite inconsequential to them. And it is my job to impress upon them, in a more meaningful way, just how significant I, and my ideas, are. If a spoonful of sugar is not working … perhaps a club would be more effective. If my words are not meaningful … perhaps a short note from a recognized Specialist or someone in indisputable authority would command acknowledgment. (Why are the words "Just you wait until your father gets home!" echoing in my mind right now? [smile]) Maybe a presentation of the potential consequences and penalties for dismissal of either my Self, or my suggestions, would admit, who I am or what I offer, into that selectively-controlled Realm of Awareness.

But to continue to repeat and persist in the same presentation that has rendered my voice mute and my offerings meaningless, while clinging to some mindless hope that such mindless persistence will bring forth some new result … is the demonstration of the old definition of Insanity. It is not personal. It is not a rejection of my Being. It is simply the playing out of what Dr. Adler suggested to his audience when he made note of their absence of any awareness of the structure of the ceiling above the auditorium in which he spoke. But … he told them … if he should announce that he had just been given a report from the building's manager, informing him that a great crack had been discovered in the main support beam that held back the many tons of materials above their heads … and imminent collapse of the roof, timbers, concrete, plaster, and all that constituted that ceiling, of which they had, previously, had no awareness … suddenly, and instantly, that nonexistent ceiling would become a dominant Presence in the Realm of Phenomenological Awareness of each of them.

This is the explanation that I gave a prominent Businessman, very recently, when he was bemoaning the refusal of a General Contractor to exercise a sense of urgency in the matter of coordination of phases of construction in a major project. “We are responsible for the finishing elements of this huge project … and all of those upon whom we must wait for our work to begin, are lagging behind the schedules. We will be left as the responsible Party for the un-readiness of the facility for its first function. But we have been well-prepared and simply waiting … waiting … while the General Contractor has refused to urge all of those whose contributions are prerequisites for our finishing phase, to adhere to their required schedules. We, and we alone, are going to bear the consequences (in financial penalties and added expense of extra hours and efforts at the end) for the failure of those others to complete their work on schedule. We have documented our many efforts and meetings with the General Contractor … all of which are ignored and dismissed.” my Businessman Friend explained. “You have failed to make yourself of consequence in his eyes” I responded. “You have not inserted your concerns into his Real of Phenomenological Awareness and made them his. But a brief letter from your attorney will make him, instantly, aware of the consequences and penalties that will be visited … on him … in court … if he does not act appropriately. Into that Realm of Awareness, those lagging workers will become an immediate Reality. You need say no more. Your voice has been deemed as insignificant by him. You, as a Person, and as an Individual, are something that, he has demonstrated, are inconsequential. You must introduce him to someone and something that will unavoidably demand significance … by demonstrating consequences.”

For, my Dear Reader, all that was true in the face of that disinterested Child … is just as true in the face of this grizzled man who controls an enormous project with all of its facets and intricacies. The consequences to the life of that young person, just as the outcome of the building project, will be affected by the willingness of each determining Individual to accept new Realities into that Place that respects consideration.

I offer this bit, of what Life has blessed me with, in the hope that You will find some use for it in your life's walk. For (as you know) a smoother and more pleasurable path is what I want, most, for You. Your happiness and peace are of infinite consequence to me. My love for You has introduced You into my personal Realm of Phenomenological Awareness. And your Presence there is most pleasant. [smile]

Lovingly ...

Give Your Heart a Smile

If you want to, momentarily, tune out all of today's Frown-Makers, and Soul-Saddeners ... Give your Self a real treat and enjoy the inclusion of Adam Bender in your awareness. You can read some of his story in THIS article in Gimundo.com.

You can, also, give your Self a quick boost by letting Adam show of a bit ... here ...



There! How's that for a change in your day's pace?! [loving smile]

The "Why" Behind "The Cost"

Here, I am sharing a bit of a “peek” behind the veil of what You would usually know. It is customary for you to see whatever I post … and nothing of the pre-posting thought or considerations, nor any of the post-posting reflections. After publishing the little thing about “The Cost,” I was having a not-too-frequent moment of questioning. “Why” I asked myself, “do you even go into those ponderous areas of philosophical and oh-so-burdensome topics?” And (as has, so frequently, been the case) my precious Lady Muse delivered (in tangible and real-time form) Life’s answer to my frustrated uncertainties.

I (just a few hours ago) received a phone call from a Friend. She shared with me some updates of inconsequential and usual stuff about her life’s goings on … and then, as if in after-thought, something that rang the bell of my needed reassurance. She told me that she and her eldest son had read the “The Cost” piece … together. Then he and she went fishing … (He [who has no fondness for fishing … let alone the mandatory handling of those wriggling worms used for bait] caught five fish … she [who is an avid (if not maniacal) fisherwoman, caught none. (teehee) But I digress.) … and they, whilst in the leisurely enjoyment of five hours of midnight-to-five AM fishing, had a discussion of what they had read together. In the course of their discussion, she was delightfully reassured of her son’s grasp of his personal sense of responsibility, for seeing to it that he invest, all of himself, in living a life of full satisfaction, and enjoyment … through an awareness, and appreciation, of his innate gifts, and abilities.

This was a huge thing for her. For, in August, this son is to be off, to far-away Oklahoma, to pursue his post-graduate degrees in his chosen field. Knowing that he has such a firm grip on the foundational precepts of a personal responsibility, for a healthy, productive, and happy future, gives her a wonderful sense of comfort and peace.

“There!” my Lady Muse said. “There is your demonstration of Life’s loving wisdom in ,motivating you to share your thoughts and feelings in that piece. You took some of that ‘compost’ of your past … and let Life apply it around that developing young life. Ya done OK, John-Michael! Now lighten up!” And, I am thusly, quite nicely, reassured. Hence, I have had those nagging doubts and hesitations about my seeming propensity for writing about such “heavy” and cumbersome considerations, allayed. And, because I do enjoy making You, Dear reader, privy to all that is the Truth of who I am, and why I am … I am now sharing, with You, this peek into something of the “why” in my doing so.

And, as always, it is my intent to serve you well, as your faithful Friend, and ever-willing Servant.

The Cost

It was Christmas Eve … the one and only night that I was assured that my children and I would have together … for the whole night. I live in one small room … so pallets made of foam pads and folded blankets made their bedding on the floor. They were tucked in and ready for sleep … and there was a knock on the door. A beautiful woman stood there … with a familiar and loved smile.

She was my first high-school Love. We had not seen each other since just after high school. I had, in the interim, married (for twenty years), had two children, a career, and a divorce. I knew that she had won the Miss Tampa beauty pageant … but past that I only knew what I did of her travels, college degrees, published books, and practice in clinical psychology, from the updates that were shared with me by her sister … when we bumped into each other at the market. And here she stood … on Christmas eve … smiling.

She asked my children (after the introductions), if she could borrow me ... for a cup of coffee. They shyly agreed. And she and I went to a convenient, twenty-four-hour breakfast place, for coffee.

After exchanges of many years’ of accumulated details and facts, she understood (what I could relate) the statistics of my story … and I filled in the blanks of hers. And I knew that she had a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer … that terrified her. So our conversation flowed into our developed philosophies and understandings. She asked me a question that caused a moment’s pause. “What did it cost you … when you shifted your life’s focus from all of life’s “Doings,” to “Being” alive?” Such a magnificent question!

Though I knew what she was considering ... the Marriage, Career, prominence in the Community, Church Role, etc. ... my Heart knew the answer. “It cost me nothing. Not a thing!” I replied. “For, don’t you see, “I,” was not present in all of those years of doing all of the stuff that was expected, required, and demanded by all of my life’s environment. I … was not functioning as an Individual then. There was no "Me" in all of that. Simply, that Person ... performing all of those Roles. All of the “lights” were on … but nobody was at home. I was a “non-person” fulfilling all of the requirements scripted out for me by circumstances and Others. Hence, there was no cost to Me, when I realized the importance of becoming a Human-Being … as opposed to existing as a Human-Doing. For, I had not existed.” She slowly nodded in quiet understanding and agreement.

We returned to my place. She went her way. We exchanged a couple of phone calls … her on the West coast; me here, in Florida. We wrote … only once, each. The letters were unfortunate exchanges of misunderstandings. And I never heard from her again.

But I will forever remember her question. “What did it cost …?” And I consider that question now … once again. For, My Dear Reader, there is, indeed, an ever-present Reality in living. Nothing is free. There is always a cost/reward relationship to every choice that we make. My living as a “Doer,” was at the unwitting expense of Self. I had never developed my ultimate responsibility … my Self. I, ignorantly and blindly, substituted activity and performance for personal growth and responsibility. I had energetically charged into life’s fray with the battle cry of “Do something great,” and “Make some-Thing of yourself” ringing in my ears. I heard no voice crying, “Make some-One of your Self … and only then, apply that developed Self, to the fulfillment of your Soul’s bliss.” It was not ’til many decades into living, that I became aware of that Voice.

So, today, I ask You, Dear One, “What are the costs in your life? What have you invested your Self in?” You are not answerable to me … or, in fact, to anyone else in this life. You, just as I, are ultimately, answerable only to that private and sacred inner You … and Eternity.

"Who are you?" ... He Asked

It has been a year, and a quarter, since I last offered this story, here. Because it was a defining moment (in many ways) in my life-walk, and many new Folks are now visiting here, I will, probably, resurrect it once, each year. With the spirit of this Happening encouraging me, I am planning to offer myself, as a Reader, to the Principal of an Elementary School just down the road from my home. It is, what is referred to as, an "At Risk School." This means that the populace of the school is made up of many who would be of the same ilk, as the young Lad, of this Story. I present the experience with a prayer that You, My Dear Reader, will find some encouragement, insight, or merit, of value to you, in it. That said ... here 'tis ...

“Who are you?” was the question thrust upon me by the challenging five year old kindergarten student as he set his back stiffly in its most erect pose. Pretty impressive stuff from a child toward a physically imposing adult male who was a total unknown to the child. Not to be channeled into his obviously well-rehearsed performance, I countered with “More to the point, (pretty cool, eh… using phraseology that was alien to the lad) … just who are you?!” Now we were engaged in the stand-off. Two duelers faced with the unspoken, but clearly understood standard that 'he who gives the answer first is the loser.’ But, here I genuinely wanted to know just who this fellow was. Not just his label … his name, but who he wanted me to know him to be.

We waited. Others at the service desk of the elementary school library ... waited. All eyes were now fixed on the young lad. He was, quite obviously, uneasy with this turn in a game that had historically garnered for him control of those upon whom he leveled his attack. Then, into the breach came a young man (an 'advanced’ age of eight years… but clearly an 'upper-classman’ in this arena) who turned to the boy (who for convenience, I will call Robert) and said “Hey man, the guy really wants to know who you are … you know … like what kind of a person are you?” I was shouting a silent inner cheer for this interceder who so beautifully cleared the air.

“I am bad” came the reply from Robert’s not-so-defiant lips. I was stunned … silence reigned at the library counter. All … students, and staff … were stilled with this declaration from a five-year-old boy … and I knew that this was a moment of pivotal significance. Not only for Robert; but also for the lad who had prompted him into this announcement; for the children who stood in silent recognition that this boy had made an honest, candid, and obviously painful statement of his inner perception of himself. I looked into Robert’s eyes ... really looked … focused into him. I gave him a moment to recognize the fact that, for me, right then, in that moment there existed no one in the world but Him.

Then I smiled a smile of appreciation and respect and said “Wow!, You are really smart! You are making a really good joke on someone! I am impressed! You must be … like a movie actor or something. Because I am a really smart man. And I know about how people are. And I am really good at spotting good people, and bad people (I then turned to the librarian and asked her to validate the truths that I had just stated, as to my credibility … for The Moment was at hand.) I can tell that you are really a very good guy … I know this… I can tell every time. So you must be making a super good joke on someone to make them think that a really good guy … is bad. I think that you must be a terrific actor.” And, My Dear Reader, I wish that I had at my disposal the ability to adequately portray the look of utter … Hope … that came across Robert’s face. Here this person of a mere five years was … soundly convinced that he, a human being, just the initial sprouting of an individual … was inherently, hopelessly, and forever bad. And some big old, imposing, white-bearded man was telling him that it was but a joke … a misunderstanding … a folly. I asked him if he would do me the honor of being my friend and we exchanged names and a bit more about ourselves.

I will not drone on about the comments from teachers and counselors who later shared notes with each other about this transformed young man. He had, obviously, made some adjustment in his game and had decided to only 'fool’ others into thinking him to be bad on selective occasions. And we enjoyed seeing each other and complimenting each others’ roles when I had the weekly opportunity to read to his class in the library. But the point in this is not this isolated happening.

The message, so clearly and eloquently communicated by Robert and his Moment, is this. We all … every single one of us … have an inner sense of who we are. Like Robert, we have been given this “script” by otherwise loving, caring, well-intentioned (yes, I do know that I am being generous here) Significant Others throughout the course of our lives. And … we buy it. We give these people our trust, our confidence, our faith in their 'superior’ powers of judgment, and we live out the roles that they hand us.

I ask that you put yourself in the person of Robert when I asked him “Who told you that you are bad? Was it someone here at school? Or was it at home? Who did you fool into believing this joke?” and ask yourself, Dear Friend, “Who am I listening to? What qualifies that person to fix a defining label on my spirit? Why am I succumbing to this influence? Wouldn’t I enjoy taking up a script of my own choosing and playing a new role that meets my inner desires?” I do not suggest that this is as easily accomplished in the well over-rehearsed and time-reinforced role of the more experienced adult. But I do offer the hope.

And in that hope, I remain, as always, Your loving Friend and willing Servant.

An Alien

It was my experience to befriend a beautiful young woman who, with her group of friends and relatives, worked as Helpers in the newspaper distribution warehouse with me. Her intelligence and innate character were obvious to me. I engaged in every opportunity to encourage her embracing of her natural Gifts. But, with great sadness, I watched her as she sought to mold herself into the roles and behaviors of her family and unfortunate acquaintances. Here I offer my reflections on her struggles … insofar as I was privileged to know them.

I do know, for fact, of her slippage into self abuse (cuttings) … tattoos and piercings that she told me that she really did not want … and ultimately, her pregnancy … all, following in the steps of her peers.

The Alien role is one that I (in my past) knew with painful intimacy. I offer this reflection in the hope that that one ’Someone’ (known only to Life) who reads this … may benefit from knowing, that their suffering, fears, doubts, and struggles, do not go unseen, or uncared about.

An Alien

Alien to all that constitutes her environment …
wanting - no - needing to find a place of comfort.
Plagued by the exceptional capacities
encapsulated within her natural qualities …
she cannot naturally meld,
into the safety of obscure Anonymity.

So she camouflages herself,
with defacements common to those around Her.
She assumes the language, and behaviors,
that conceal her innate endowments.
She avoids all challenges
to the legitimacy of her portrayal …
Most importantly,
challenges borne of her own Awareness.

Unknown to her, the Others find
validation for their behaviors,
in her degradation,
of her appearance and demeanor.
For they all see the extraordinary Gifts,
that are naturally hers.
Making their shared cycles of mimicry,
an endless waste.

Only in still, lone, and quiet,
moments of painful reflection,
does she find herself confronted
with unidentified Frustrations.
As dissatisfaction, and Self loathing
drive her to Self punishment.

Inflicting physical wounds …
tangible, real, and knowable …
for all else is too dark and unknowable.
While these are accepted,
as deserved flagellations.

A Coffee-House Moment

I was, at first, allowing my mind
to escape to a fanciful Forest.
Then, I began to sense visitations
By the Forest’s Gifts … all about me.

Might that happy gurgling
be born of a tiny creek ...
or from a small Child’s voice,
does that giggling abound?

Are these furtive glances
from birds flitting about me?
Or the peeking of Children,
with curiosity stirred?

That outburst could as well be
from a squirrel, announcing its domain …
as the Child’s proud announcement
of a coloring or drawing made right.


I could as easily be responding
to a Fawn’s gentle gaze …
as stilled by Child’s wonderment
at a strange Man writing … deep in thought.

Delight knows no distinction
‘tween Coffee House and Forest.
When the source of rapture
is unbridled Innocence.

Hence, I thank Life for the Gift
of a Coffee-House Moment with children,
as Mums chatter and visit …
keeping a loving watch, quite near.

Joy, known in this Moment, is equal
to any visit with Meadow or Glade.
My Spirit; my Being, is transported
from fancied Bliss, to a present Delight.

Love Storms

Love Storms

Seizing, testing, and tearing,
at the togetherness of his Heart's Vessel …
The sudden, unbidden storm of cyclonic passion,
unleashes its awesome powers.
While the wizened and weathered Sailor,
thrills at this new challenge.
His readiness and responses, to the furious encounter,
tell of Storms, well-known, before.

For him, ‘tis but an awakening,
of long-dormant Senses.
He thrills, in his celebration,
of this rush, of uncommon energies, and Might.
All made richer by his seasoned ability,
to understand; to accept; to welcome.
For he knows ‘tis nothing but a passing gale …
a magnificent gift of Nature.

Yet ... he relishes that wistful dream,
of distant trade-winds of constancy;
reliable breezes ... prevailing forces ...
that maintain a pleasant voyage.
Thus he sails on … enjoying the breath,
of Friendships that sustain;
The occasional gust, of Camaraderie …
a sweet puff, of Congeniality.

Keeping, all the while, his sailing skills sharpened …
his ship in readiness;
For that anticipated, unknown, yet expected,
eruption of Love’s powers.
And he smiles, the smile of One,
who never abandons his yearning …
To sail, into life’s sunset-painted horizon,
with sails billowing,
Filled to Desire's capacity ... swelled with satisfactions …
imparted by, the still unknown ... Her.



John-Michael
03 March 2008
Revised 25 May 2009

Cozy Lair

Shhhhh! 'Tis best that we but whisper,
in this newly discovered place.
This place of organic fragrances,
that speak of seasons past.
A place that embraces and invites us ...
To huddle in quiet peacefulness.

Secrecy must be maintained …
lest this nest of privacy be spoiled.
So, My Dear, let us burrow into the warmth,
of these secluded surroundings.
And allow all, that is without, to pass us by …
unaware of our Cozy Lair.

IMAGE: Samantha Hill, BBC News

Life's Hidden Streams ... Shared

As I listened to Philip Glass speak (during a PBS presentation of the American Masters Series), of Music as being an ever-present River, that flows beneath our feet … awaiting our willingness to listen … I enjoyed an Awareness of a personal relationship to the Image.

It was in the year 1967, and I (as a 21 year-old new recruit to the Field-Engineering Department, of our local Electric Utility Company), was being introduced to some of the rudiments of our Department’s responsibilities. The Man, taking on this orientation, was a Gentleman who I would come to admire, respect, and, indeed, love, as a Friend, as well as my new Boss. We drove into a housing development under construction … stopped at a freshly paved intersection, amongst bare Lots awaiting their homes-to-be … and alighted from our vehicle.

Lloyd S. Wood (the afore-mentioned ‘Boss’), described how we were to place a wooden stake into the earth, in the exact spot that a construction crew was to install a power pole. He then did something that has stayed with me all of these ensuing years. He removed two lengths of ordinary, copper wire, from the trunk of the car … bent each into an “L” shape … held each in a manner that extended the longer portion of the “L” out in front of him … and commenced walking toward the edge of the right-of-way. The wires began moving. They crossed, into a perfect “X.” Then as he progressed … they returned to their original “straight ahead” placement … all by themselves. Lloyd backed up a step or two. The wires, again, crossed … and then resumed their “straight ahead” pointing, as he proceeded backward. He then turned and said, “Where the wires crossed, is where there are underground pipes or cables. We want to be sure to place the stake, that we drive into the earth, far enough from that “X” point, to ensure that the Crew, drilling the hole for the Pole, will not drill into the buried Utility Cables or Pipes. I was mesmerized.

He then gave the two wires to me, and instructed me in the manner in which they were to be held … I walked (in the same manner that I had just seen him walk) … and ‘Lo and Behold!,’ I experienced the exact same result. On our trip back to the Office, Lloyd told me how he had used that method to locate the best spot for drilling a Well for supplying his home with water. He told me how he had struck an underground stream (located by the “X” method) on the Well-Driller’s first try. “Best water in the neighborhood!” he proudly declared.

Some years later, whilst at an evening’s gathering of Friends, I posed a question, as to the reasons for the “wire crossing” phenomenon, to one of our group. With him being a Engineer (working in the field of nuclear power plant design) I assumed that his training, and education, would equip him to be able to tell me how, and why, it happened. To my surprise, he challenged me with an “Impossible!” declaration. As You can imagine, I asked our host for two, wire, coat-hangers … formed the requisite “L”’s … led a Parade, of all of the attending males, into our Host’s front yard … and … TaaDaa! … demonstrated the location of the buried water pipe, sewer line, and telephone cable. All of these were confirmed by our Host.

This Groups ultimate refusal to allow the simple Reality of what they had experienced with those silly little wires, was brought back to mind when I read of Anthony Campolo’s colleagues’ dismissal of an experience that he related to them. Here they were, hearing from the lips of a renowned Scholar, Scientist, Academician, Teacher, and Peer, the story of his encounter with spiritual happenings, demonstrating a direct influence on the physiological, and totally tangible, Being of a young lad … and they couldn’t bring themselves to accept any of what was offered. Instead, they, as a group, declared that what Campolo had presented was “outside of the bounds of accepted Doctrinal Parameters.” It was Doctor Campolo’s suggestion that perhaps, they might (inasmuch as they all were part of a Body of Scholars, Learners, and Intellectuals, who not only spent their lives teaching and instructing young minds in their particular theological themes … but were intelligent and learned Individuals as well), consider modifying the defining borders of their respective “Boxes of Theological and Doctrinal Parameters, to include irrefutable Truths demonstrated and given in Evidence as newly presented Facts.” Alas, they simply could not (or would not) subject themselves to such an uncomfortable proposition.

While I do, genuinely, respect and accept the rights of All to elect their own modes of Being, I have embraced, as my personal choice, a sense of responsibility, for making available whatever little Insights, Thoughts, Experiences, or Ideas I have been privileged to discover … my life’s particular little Streams of unseen, but genuinely validated, aspects of Life. In so doing, I allow each Individual, whose path in life intersects with mine, the lovely freedom of choice. It is my conviction that a fuller life-experience can be enjoyed if (as is true with any buffet-presentation of a variety of choices), One knows the opportunity to sample, try, test, or “taste” from as inclusive a selection of options as possible. Hence, in Philips Glass’s terms, I offer my Awareness of underlying streams of Love, Respect, Intimacy, Engagement, and whatever other elements of living I find … to all who welcome me.

Just as the Engineer, and the Others in the that evening's group, chose to dismiss the Reality of those crossed bits of wire … I know (from many years and encounters) that there are many who prefer the solid, certain, and easily defined “Ground” of a dry, barren, and unfriendly life-path, over the option of an embraced awareness of what are the undefined, uncertain, uncontrollable, and freely flowing streams of cooling, refreshing, invigorating Affections, Involvements, and, yes, even Vulnerabilities, that flow beneath their feet, in their walk through life. I have validated the legitimacy of differing temperaments and personalities that are threatened and made uneasy with such considerations … so I lovingly respect their election to assume a place of comfort, that disallows any Threat (present in those unfamiliar aspects of life) that would “destabilize” their chosen world of awareness. But I do take every opportunity to give everyone the choices.

So, My Darling Reader, I find myself following in the lovely steps of Lloyd S. Wood, Philip Glass, Anthony Campolo, Ann Kiemel, Joseph Campbell, Leo Buscaglia, and many Others who have touched my Life, inspired my Spirit, stimulated my Mind, engaged my Soul, and made better my Days … by excitedly and enthusiastically pointing out both the tiny trickles of Truth and Beauty; and surging Rivers of Present, and Eternal Truths and Realities ... each, and all, making my personal Walk richer and more delightful every day. I do hope that You too, will share Life’s Treasures with all who bless your pilgrimage … and with me as well!

[loving smile]

(PS … Because of my love, and appreciation, of Who he is … I phoned Lloyd Wood, a few days ago, to let him know how I feel about him and his effect on my Being. He is doing well … has retired from the Engineering field … is now ninety years of age … and still commands his indomitable wit, and gracious hospitality of Spirit. I promised him a copy of this bit of reflection … and will mail the same to his Love and Pride … his Daughter. I want her to know of how yet-another ripple, of her Daddy’s Influence, has touched Another in Life’s pond.)

Beauty

I do enjoy the Realization (frequently reinforced and freshened), that Beauty is without bounds, limits, or confines. I also enjoy sharing it with You. [smile]

This image has been released by NASA as the last "pretty" image made by the Hubble Space Telescope's Wide Field Planetary Camera 2.
The image made May 4, 2009 is of the planetary nebula known as Kohoutek 4-55.