Running. In Confessional.

blue, photography,sun,light

I’m off.  35F. Feeling good.
It’s the day after Good Friday.
The title of LaDona’s post banging around in my head like a 50 Cent Rap song – - the tricked up Chevy heaving up and down to the beat:

This Place Was Made By God.
This Place Was Made By God.
This Place Was Made By God.

I look around.  Trees reflecting on the still waters of the Long Island Sound.  Sun’s up in its full magnificence.  Sky is a brilliant blue.  Who else could have made this?

She goes on.  This place was made by God, a priceless sacrament; it is without reproach.
(She’s so d*mn sure.)

And on.  The most sacred day in the Christian calendar, and indeed, in Christianity itself. Inspiration for stunning, poignant music across the centuries. Even if you don’t believe, or if you do and God seems far away, the music speaks. And touches. And heals.
(I’m right there with you Sister on the far away part.  And right there with you that the music speaks, touches and heals)

Then the mind, faster than a switchback on a BC mountain highway, turns to a conversation with a colleague on Thursday: [Read more...]

No God? Or All God?

photography,sunset,clouds,Colorado River, Toroweap

“The familiar stark divide between people of religion and without religion is too crude. Many millions of people who count themselves atheists have convictions and experiences very like and just as profound as those that believers count as religious. They say that though they do not believe in a “personal” god, they nevertheless believe in a “force” in the universe “greater than we are.” They feel an inescapable responsibility to live their lives well, with due respect for the lives of others; they take pride in a life they think well lived and suffer sometimes inconsolable regret at a life they think, in retrospect, wasted. They find the Grand Canyon not just arresting but breathtakingly and eerily wonderful. They are not simply interested in the latest discoveries about the vast universe but enthralled by them. These are not, for them, just a matter of immediate sensuous and otherwise inexplicable response. They express a conviction that the force and wonder they sense are real, just as real as planets or pain, that moral truth and natural wonder do not simply evoke awe but call for it.”

~ Ronald Dworkin


Ron Dworkin died on February 14, 2013.  He was an American Philosopher and scholar of Constitutional Law.  Before he died, he sent The New York Review of Books the text of his new Book, Religion Without God, which will be published later this year.  Dworkin was born in 1931 in Providence, Rhode Island.  He studied at Harvard University and at Oxford, where he was a Rhodes Scholar .


Source: The New York Review of Books. Image Source: Katy

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May your gravity be lightened by grace

dancer in wind gif

For Equilibrium, a Blessing:

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,
May the relief of laughter rinse through your soul.

As the wind loves to call things to dance,
May your gravity by lightened by grace.

Like the dignity of moonlight restoring the earth,
May your thoughts incline with reverence and respect.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,
May your sense of irony bring perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,
May your mind stay clear of all it names.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough
to hear in the depths the laughter of god.”

― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings


John O’Donohue (1 January 1956 – 4 January 2008) was an Irish poet, author, priest, and Hegelian philosopher. He was a native Irish speaker, and as an author is best known for popularizing Celtic spirituality.  O’Donohue said: ”Part of understanding the notion of Justice is to recognize the disproportions among which we live…it takes an awful lot of living with the powerless to really understand what it is like to be powerless, to have your voice, thoughts, ideas and concerns count for very little. We, who have been given much, whose voices can be heard, have a great duty and responsibility to make our voices heard with absolute integrity for those who are powerless.


Sources: Image – Thank you Anake Goodall. O’Donohue Blessing: Good Reads. O’Donohue Bio: Wiki.

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When it comes, I’ll be fine, calm.

black and white, photography

“My doctor told me that I’m old, fat, and ugly, but none of those things is going to kill me immediately,” he told me shortly before his 72nd birthday. “The actuaries say I have six to eight years. The best tables give me 10. Three thousand days, more or less.” I asked if he is afraid to die. “Because of my hemophilia, I’ve been prepared to face death all of my life. As a boy I spent a lot of time in hospitals. My parents had to leave at the end of visiting hours, and I spent a lot of time just lying there in the dark, thinking about the fact that any accident could be dangerous or even fatal. So I’m ready. Everybody fears the unknown. But I have a strong feeling there’s something bigger than us. I don’t think all this exists because some rocks happened to collide. I’m at peace. When it comes, I’ll be fine, calm. I’ll miss life, though. Especially my family.”

~ Roger Ailles, 72, Founder and Head of Fox News, in Vanity Fair


Whether one is far right, passionate left or in the center, we are not so different at our core. We face our daily struggles. We love our family. We’d give anything for another ten years…Life is good.  Have a good day…


Image Credit: EveryThing All Around Me

Running. With Galileo.

bird, nature, fly,wings,inspirational

Late (LATE) start. Galileo’s Sun is up. I look up and bask in its warmth. I start my run into a cold headwind. Fingertips tingling. My eyes, fill with water. Like mist on cold air over warm waters. This will clear.

Run by the corner of Noroton and Post Roads. Church Corner. Ascension Episcopal. Noroton Presbyterian. Christ Scientist. Churchgoers are filing in. Man cradling baby in a papoose. Families striding briskly, holding hands with their children. Lady holding kerchief in place from wind gusts. Elderly couple shifts right to let me pass. Community. Peace be with you too.

I usually run too early to see churchgoers. Not today. Guilt washes over me. Eric joined his friends in attending a eulogy yesterday. “Weird,” he described it. “Awkward not having been to church in years.” He lights my fuse using less than 10 words. Jung scolds: “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” Then Robert Fulghum piles on: “Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.” How quickly this has escalated. Yes, “my” Son – - he’s been watching. And now I’m irritated, here on Galileo’s beautiful Sunday. NO, gentlemen. Not today. You won’t get under my skin today. No sir.

[Read more...]

The long roll of heavens artillery

black and white, ocean, waves, photography

“Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his infinity, – the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heavens artillery, – but the most tremendous, the most stupefying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass; the slightest whisper seems sacrilege, and man becomes timid, affrighted at the sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across the ghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes that his is a maggots life, nothing more. Strange thoughts arise unsummoned, and the mystery of all things strives for utterance. And the fear of death, of God, of the universe, comes over him, – the hope of the Resurrection and the life, the yearning for immortality, the vain striving of the imprisoned essence, – it is then, if ever, man walks alone with God.”

~ Jack London


This share was inspired by the 10 ton meteorite falling out of the heavens in Siberia on Friday. (The long rolls of heavens artillery…The sky clears, the heavens are as brass…)

Jack London (January 12, 1876 – November 22, 1916) was an American author, journalist, and social activist. He was a pioneer in the then-burgeoning world of commercial magazine fiction and was one of the first fiction writers to obtain worldwide celebrity and a large fortune from his fiction alone.


Sources: Quote – thank you makebelieveboutique.com.  Photo: midnightmartinis - “Portugal” – by Hélène Desplechin

Like, A Horse with No Name.

lost, confused, don't understand, poetry, poem

In 7th grade, a substitute teacher introduced us to poetry.  Well, sort of.  He circulated a copy of the lyrics for America’s hit song: A Horse With No Name.  The class lit up like fireflies offering up their interpretations.  DK, shoulders slumped, head down, was pretending to be reading the lyrics – - sat nervously hoping he wouldn’t be called on.  The 30 minutes of inadequacy never vacated short term memory.  (Samuel Beckett: I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.“)  I came across the poem below by George MacDonald and I found it moving me…Spring fever perhaps….and as my eyes slowly worked down one line and then the next, I found my spirits lifting…Hey! I understand this.  I get it. I like it.  No, I love it.  And, then. Reality.  I reached the last line and was stoned.

Through all the fog, through all earth’s wintery sighs,
I scent Thy spring, I feel the eternal air,
Warm, soft, and dewy, filled with flowery eyes,
And gentle, murmuring motions everywhere—
Of life in heart, and tree, and brook, and moss;
Thy breath wakes beauty, love, and bliss, and prayer,
And strength to hang with nails upon thy cross.

- George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul

So Sensei.  My wise readers.  Help me out.  Explain what the last line means.  So, I can get to sleep. Or, better yet, tell me you have no idea either. And I’ll sleep like a baby. :)


Source of Beckett quote and MacDonald Poem:  journalofanobody

And the winner is…

The runaway winner among all the Superbowl commercials.  Dodge Ram Truck.  And Paul Harvey.  GOOD DAY!

Synchrodestiny. I am the way.

Carl Jung, Faith, believe, belief, God, religion, spirituality

I’ve read hundreds of books.  And I remember what?  Snippets.  Particles.  Fragments. Crumbs. Smidgens. Specks. Morsels. Bits.  Traces.  A messy mosaic of something. Adding up to a little more than nothing. A cacophony of deafening alarm bells ringing out to me. Wake up!  Slow down!  Listen!  All banging around.  But coincidences.  And synchrodestiny.  Are crumbs that resurface with frequency. The culprit?  A Deepak Chopra book picked up while browsing at a Barnes & Nobles bookstore on a bitterly cold day over ten years ago. [Read more...]

Grounded.

illustration, sketch, black and white, simple figure, woman figure

It’s Monday, October 29th.  The day that Hurricane Sandy hit the Tri-State Region.

I’m scrolling down the new WordPress posts for bloggers I follow.  My fingers sliding clumsily on the touch pad. Scrolling. Scrolling. (Cursing because I haven’t figured out this d*mn touch pad. I miss the eraser thing in the middle of keyboard.  Getting old.  Hating change.  Big clumsy fingers. I slide fingers in wrong direction and I’m taken to another website.  I lose my place.  Need to start back at the top.  Grrrrrrr. Can this be so difficult pal? )

My eyes flitting from post to post.  Scanning images and topics of interest.

My eyes land on the image on the left.  I freeze.  (What is it about this image?  I can feel its soothing effects.  The ‘Work’ clutch now slipping from OVERDRIVE to neutral.)

A few lines.  Black lines.  White background.  A simple image. A simple, beautiful human image.  (Let’s not get too carried away.  It’s certainly not that simple.  And nothing I could ever draw.)

I found it to be startling.

[Read more...]

Sunday Morning: Remember to Breathe

Shot in Alberta.  Paired with the song “Roam” which is performed by Wil Mimnaugh.  Here’s more of Canada’s breathtaking beauty and its people.

O Canada.

My heart swells watching this…

Good Sunday morning.



So…
Close your eyes and see
Gold…
Fields that chase the breeze
Hold…
Your eyes up to the trees
Have your ever seen
The sun jumping into a stream
It’s really something to see

Roam
Up into the peaks … of snow
The sky that you can reach
Float
Clouds that look to breathe
Rolling along with the creek
It’s really something to see
She’s really something to me

Roam !!!
Open up your eyes
Know!!!
Know that we can fly
Float!!!
Float into the sky
Along the tops of the trees
Our shadows dance on the seas
Remember to breathe
She’s really something to me


Thank you Lorne for sharing.

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To Be

“Ours is a time of continual movement which often leads to restlessness, with the risk of ‘doing for the sake of doing.’ We must resist this temptation by trying ‘to be’ before trying ‘to do.’”

~ Pope John Paul II, Novo Millennio Inuente


Sources: Image –  goodmemory. Quote: crashinglybeautiful

Sunday Morning: Growing is forever, they whispered…

“A very long time ago, there were no groves because everywhere was a grove with no roads to bisect and no people to erect stones and fences and bridges. The trees were very, very young and had much living ahead of them. The enormity of their lifespan loomed in wooly mists around them, so they stretched out their root fingers and wrapped them around each others’, intertwining and holding very tight. The ferns found pockets of root fingers where they could nestle in and the moss stretched itself out over the soil and everything became very soft. The trees grew and made patterns of light and dark on the ground and the vines swirled in to trace the patterns. Spotted spiders moved back and forth and up and down, making nets to catch the mist, and the mist would linger on the nets in drops that cupped the light. It was very quiet all the time because the trees needed to focus on their lives. It is not easy to grow so much, for so long. Some trees became tired and lay down on the soft ground; others leaned and rested their tops on another. Growing is forever, they whispered, and when one tree had to stop, another would grow out of it and reach very high into the grey and gold sky. The trees rested and waited to the mist to come and cool them. They were very large, but still not very old, and had much more growing to do.” ~ Kallie Markle

Good Sunday morning.


Growing is Forever from Jesse Rosten on Vimeo.


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Sunday Morning: On the Isle of Kaua’i

If I could snap my fingers and instantly land somewhere on this planet this morning, Kaua’i would certainly be on my short list.

Good Sunday morning.


ISLE OF KAUA’I :: HAWAII from Scott McFarlane on Vimeo.


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Sunday Morning: A Winged Victory

Love this…hypnotized by it…but not sure that I fully grasped the story line.  Van Gogh and his illnesses have been on my mind from posts earlier in the week. (9/21-a and 9/21-b).  All interpretations welcome.

Good Sunday morning.


A Winged Victory For The Sullen – Requiem For The Static King Part One (Official Video) from Erased Tapes on Vimeo.


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Unstoppable

Lorne - unstoppable - bone marrow transplant

This is my youngest brother Lorne.  This photo was taken one year ago yesterday after his successful bone marrow transplant.  He celebrates another year of a remarkable life.  This man, my Brother, carries himself with such grace, with such gentleness, with such kindness and with such optimism – - I shake my head in wonder.  It makes me believe that he was “selected” because of his indomitable spirit and strength.

[Read more...]

Sunday Morning: Everything is Incredible

Agustin is from Siguatepeque, Honduras.  He was born “lame with his right leg shorter than his left.”  He was later struck with polio leaving him severely disabled from the legs down.  He dreamed of being a pilot but because of his disability, he couldn’t fly.  He turned his energy to building his own helicopter largely from parts found at the trash dumps.  He started building in 1958.  He is still pursuing his dream today more than one-half a century later with his helicopter still under construction.

His Minister:  “I don’t know what he’s paying for his helicopter in the ultimate sense.  I think he’s paid a lot for that helicopter.  I think he’s paid an awful lot.  You might say what has he gotten out of it?  I don’t know.  Maybe its kept him alive. Maybe its been able to conquer loneliness.  Maybe its been able to conquer poverty.”

Agustin later in the story explains: “The problem is that everything is incredible and people just don’t accept it.”

This video is beautiful. Sad.  Touching.  And inspiring.

And, yes, Agustin, we are blessed. And everything is incredible.  And often times we take it for granted.

Good Sunday morning.


Everything is Incredible from Tyler Bastian on Vimeo.


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Sunday Morning: What did you leave behind

“At 68, Rob Elliot has guided 200+ trips on the Grand Canyon of the Colorado river in Arizona.”

How do you want to be remembered, when this life joins the wind?
What did you leave, in these chasms, upon these lives, young & curious?
What did you write? What dust in the rain, sand in the rivers?

Those you touched, embraced and kissed, loved… what echoes there?
How will it travel, your wisdom, your story, your suffering and joy?

These walls, silent, deafening, ancient and new.
What did you make them, what did they make of you?
A life running, teaching or learning, what is escape?
What did you find?

Wind, replenishing rain, sun.
Who did these thorns see?
What did these waters wash from you?
The stars, in the abyss beyond, how did they shine, on you?

Will you release the storm, the scars, whirling as they go, yet holding love, life?
The luminous child, the harsh knowing of age, what did you leave behind?

Good Sunday Morning…


OF SOULS + WATER: THE ELDER from NRS Films on Vimeo.

 


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Sunday Morning: Holi. Festival of Colors.

“If you notice the instances under which people gather in large groups, in coliseums, in stadiums – it usually has to do with contention, competition, rivalry, partisanship.  The Festival of Colors stands out from those events because there is none of that competition or rivalry or sectarianism.  People are gathered together just about celebrating our own spirituality and creator from whom we come…He’s present within his name.  Whenever you are chanting any bona fide name of God, God is dancing on the tip of your tongue.  Life becomes simple.  Life becomes streamlined and pared down – - to love of God and love of one’s fellow living beings…We’re all basically the same. There’s unity in diversity.  Underneath all that, there is a natural outpouring of love.”


Holi. Festival of Colors. 2012 from Good Line on Vimeo.


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The Way: You don’t choose a life Dad, you live one…

I recommend “The Way” for anyone looking for a light, funny, feel-good movie on a rainy Sunday. Basic no-surprise plot. Good casting buckled with very good soundtrack, humor, captivating vistas and mouth watering food scenes. And the lead character (Martin Sheen) is, like me, an acknowledged “Believer of Convenience” (Easter, Christmas) so the flick resonated with me.  The 2-minute trailer captures the plot nicely.

Quick recap and highlights:

[Read more...]

The Believer of Convenience.

Scene: Sunday, April 17, 2012.  Beautiful sunny day in Chestnut Hill, MA.  Home of Boston College. (BC Alums, did I get your colors, right?)

This was a Father and Son day trip where we were joined by 1000+ other incoming freshman and their expectant parents – some like Eric, who were trying to decide if BC was going to be their home for the next four years.

Father Jeremy Clark (b. Australia; Chinese History specialist; Rugby enthusiast) kicked off his remarks by sharing some background on the Jesuits and their foundation which I recap like this: Pursuit of education and knowledge.  Integration of education with Religion and one’s pursuit of their highest personal calling.  Embracing character, community and service.  And, AND, their belief that “God is in All Things.”  More on this later.

Roll past a 45-minute briefing session in Biology and another 45 minutes in Chemistry (and I’m ready for therapy – Can I be the most clueless parent in the room?  Why are most of the parents taking notes?  Should I be taking notes?  On What?  Maybe I’ll doodle.  Ahh, I forgot my pen.  And I have no paper.  Isn’t the time up yet?  Why can’t I get an iPhone signal in here to check my emails?  Isn’t it hot in here?  I glance over at Eric.  He’s intently focused on the Professor. At least someone has it together. Could he be adopted? Or Worse?).  We moved on to the last of the formal classroom sessions which was hosted by four BC seniors sharing their thoughts on the BC experience.  It was standing room only.  No air in this room.  Or, perhaps I’m still hyperventilating from the last Chem session.  (What is wrong with me?)  During the end of the Q&A, a parent asks how invasive the religious requirements are at Boston College.  You could only hear crickets.  The Believers, shifting (squirming) uncomfortably in their chairs.  Gritting their teeth I’m sure.  The non-Catholic/non-Jesuit/”Other” parents and students sitting up at attention waiting for the response.  And me, I’m standing up against the wall…behind my son who sitting in front of me…I plant my feet…lean up against the wall…I squeeze his shoulders…I feel woozy.  (Get a grip man!)

[Read more...]

Life…

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is bliss, taste it.
Life is a dream, realize it.
Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is a duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.
Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.
Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.
Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.

Mother Teresa

 

 


Image Credit: Thank you lori-rocks

A chance in the world…

My Son knows his Mother.  His Father.  His Sister.  He is loved unconditionally.  He sleeps in a warm, clean bed.  He has not experienced hunger.  Real hunger.  Yet, some (many) others in this world…”not so much.”

Part 1 of this book is called “An Orphan Boy.”  Beginning at 3 years old, Stephen Pemberton, is bounced from one foster family (who neglects him) to another – - The Robinsons…who can best be described as monstrous.   He’s subjected to merciless beatings – - deliberate attempts to thwart his academic progress — and he’s hungry, always hungry.  He’s not permitted to open the refrigerator – ever.  He’s required to adhere to a series of Robinson Rules which include #1-You are to never tell anyone outside this house about what goes on here.  #2-We aren’t your mother and father. You call us ma’am and sir.  #4-You are dumb, and ugly.  Something about you isn’t right.  Everybody knows this.  #7-We can beat you at any moment.  #8-No one wants you, especially your own mother and father.  Young Pemberton finds refuge in books.  He is a reader.  A kind soul, a neighbor, who sees a spark in this child – gifts him books.  He’s forced to read in a cold, dank basement.

I came to live not just in fear but abject terror, the kind that rises up and takes over every sense of your being.  Years later, long after the hunger and beatings were no longer residents of my mind, it would be that fear that would be that last to leave. [Read more...]