Continuation of Journal 19
Poem
The maples green,
now tinged with gold.
My graying beard
say I am old.
My old new car
has rusty holes.
I have not guided
many souls.
The first crisp nights
of coming fall.
The roadside stand.
Corn standing tall.
The glimmer
of the milky way.
The longer night.
The shorter day.
The sumac red,
The maple gold.
I am not ready
to grow old.
As one’s beard
turns white with age.
May one grow wise.
May one grow sage.
Fall is here.
Creations way.
May it be kind to us,
I pray.
May passing time
be a friend.
This journey to
a graceful end.
Embrace, embrace
the coming fall.
The seasons change,
for one and all.
Embrace, embrace
the coming fall.
The seasons change,
for one and all.
Prose
I went to a Christmas party two nights ago. I knew many who were there. But there were many who I did not recognize. One of the men I recognized from last year’s party. He was dressed in hunter’s plaid and camo. I asked him how he did in his hunting and fishing over the last year. He showed me pictures on his phone of ten deer and thousands of fish. I too fished this year. But came up with twenty fish, mostly perch, and one deer.
I spent days down on the Oak Orchard River fishing. People all around me were landing fish beyond number. I caught nothing. I did have one good day in late summer, where I caught rock bass, sunnies, a large mouth, a white bass,a white perch, and three 20 inch catfish. But aside from this, my efforts were unrewarded.
The same with my hunting. The successful hunters all tagged several deer. I really labored, and produced only one.
I have come to the clear conclusion that great hunters and fishermen are gifted by God. There can be no other answer.
I am at a crossroads. I am going to study for yoga teacher certification, or fishing guide certification. While I like to fish, and have been somewhat successful, I am not truly gifted. I might, however, have a gift for teaching yoga.
But I’m bringing this all around to another point. That we can only become abundantly successful when we learn and develop our gifts. To become really great, we must discern where our potential lies, and then heartily develop our potentials.
This easily seen in the lives of artists, writers and musicians. But it also true in outdoorsmanship, business, and vocations of every kind. WE MUST FIND AND DEVELOP OUR GIFTS. This is the key to purpose and fulfillment.
Let me take a moment to update on the art work. The first printing on my line of greetings cards is done. The first printing on the children’s books is done, as well. We’re building a website. Dana is helping me.
Mom and Dad, at 85 and 90 years old are doing well. However, my plans to move up to the mountains are on hold, as they need constant assistance.
Celebration of Thanksgiving at Mom and Dad’s house on October Lane was quite nice. We had Sue, Katie, Sandy, Bob, Fia and Vin, Sarah and Noah as guests. It was a bustling household there for a few days. Christmas is six days away. I am down at Billy’s camp, as I write this, alone.
My winter time projects are to illustrate Brothers of Change, and two more children’s books.
My health is great. I do find myself lonely at times. I’m considering getting a dog, as a companion.
Let us continue the dialogue on yoga and hunting. At first, these activities seem to be complete opposites. Yoga is all about peace, while hunting is all about killing.
But hunting is all about mental discipline, breathe awareness, overcoming discomfort, and keeping positive thoughts. It is evermore about healthy exercise, sunshine and fresh air. It is strengthening and purification. In this it is like yoga.
Yoga is about becoming strong and pure. It’s about creating a powerful aura, a spiritual light. And then let this created light accomplish its own goals. These goals include personal peace, and health. And then the peace and health of the community, and the world, as well.
But one question remains, can the yoga master eat venison, without working against himself?
As we know, most yoga masters do not eat meat. But the long days in the woods give one peace, health, and strength.
There is a whole host
of spirit entities.
Maple leaves spotted crimson.
Influencing electronic processes.
speaking words.
Projecting ideas.
There is another reality.
A better world.
A safer place.
To be invoked,
brought down,
celebrated.
Poem Luminous Beings.
We are surrounded by luminous bodies.
Entities of light and air and water.
with consciousness and will.
Luminous bodies exist
in past, present, and future,
simultaneously.
They bear upon physical,
electrical,
and psychic processes.
Perhaps vestiges of
of beings that once lived
Perhaps divine unto themselves.
They are messengers,
if one can hear.
They create good and bad luck.
Bonding together, they can be very powerful.
They are the source of voices,
message bearers.
Explaining why one man falls to rags,
while another finds gold.
3-16-24 Beginning the type out of the journal numbered 20. The original writing was begun 3-27-12
I’m asking myself three questions. The first is, is the monastic life a valid life? The second is, is a life modeled after a monastic life a valid life? The third, and most important question is, am I living a valid life?
I can easily answer the first question. The monastic life is a life of work and prayer. If one has a work ethic and a basic faith, there is validity here.
The second question cannot be answered quite as easily. Does the life of a man holding a simple job, in the outside world, and keeping vows of prayer and chastity, have the same value as the life of a highly educated or highly paid man? This depends on how one defines the word value. Is a poor but holy monk living a meaningful life? I would say yes. However a materialistic and atheistic person would disagree.
Let me digress here. I visited the home of a gardening customer today. They greeted me warmly. They have a retarded son, who turned to see who was at the door. He recognized me, and blessed me with the most beautiful smile. In that moment, I realized that all life has validity, value.
I look at my own life, perhaps too critically. I have not achieved my goals. I have struggled with disability and circumstance. Nevertheless, there is meaning and truth. I have found the grace to live a decent life. I have learned that value in life takes many forms. And also in that I have learned not to judge others, I must accept and not condemn myself.
4-08-12 Journal
My question then changes form. Is my life accomplishing anything? Are my prayers, my art forms, my labor, accomplishing anything? Am I subtly impacting the world around me? Am I subtly changing the course of history.
Has my fasting, my prayer, my discipline, and psychic sacrifice effected reality?
Poem
Look, I see
The early bright
The summer morn,
The end of night.
The grass is wet,
the earth is gray.
Song birds lauding,
dawning day.
We are the dawn.
The chosen ones.
Awakened souls,
now just begun.
Let us share the waters.
The bread, the wine, the peace.
Prayer before the altar,
His power now release.
Know prayer, the driving power.
The source, the force, the cause,
Spend an honest hour.
The Revolution’s laws.
Think of steel on stone.
A spark ignites a fire.
A fire fed by deeds and prayer.
The flames grow ever higher.
We are not bound by earthly law.
Yea, led by Heaven’s star,
It is not good we do,
for good is what we are.
Get your Bible off the shelf.
Each day take time to pray.
Pray down the Revolution,
and a brand new day.
Evil must be cast down.
Raise the righteous sword.
We, the church militant,
must come to one accord.
Raise the crimson banner.
The name of God on high.
Our name, and cause, and calling,
Written in the sky.
Awaken!
See the early bright.
The summer morn,
the end of night.
The ground is damp,
the morning dew.
God’s calling me.
God’s calling you.
The ground is damp,
the morning dew.
God’s calling me.
God’s calling you.
Thought
You are the artist.
Your life is your brushes.
Your medium is humanity,
through its course of history.
Thought
Smoke on the Weber.
Fire in the sky.
Meteors and native browns.
God’s kiss, and never die.
ROCK ON.
GOOD VIBRATIONS AND HOPEFUL EXPECTATIONS
Poem Jan. 8-2013
This was written as I painted and repaired the new house in Carlton. I’m moving into a new community, and a new life full of uncertainties.
This flying
is not easy.
One’s feet
not on the ground.
This way of faith,
at times with doubts,
from earth untied,
unbound.
Living
for the promise,
of a future
sound, secure.
But feet,
no longer touching earth,
with angst,
somewhat unsure.
I’ve stepped off on to
waters deep,
Like Peter did,
in story.
I keep
my eyes upon the Lord,
And reach out
for his glory.
I’ve stepped off
from the lofty ledge,
to trust
the angel’s wings
That Christ himself
will carry me.
Goodness,
this new life brings.
Let praises flow,
now from my heart.
And glories
from my soul.
Lord, uplift,
and carry us.
Our world now,
please make whole.
A new life
filled with harmonies..
His angels
always near.
That we be kept
in perfect peace.
In faith,
no more to fear.
Now soon,
our winter’s over.
And the first warm days
of spring.
Look to
the blossoms and the bees.
And the new life
that they bring.
Look to
the blossoms and the bees.
And the new life
that they bring.
Poem 1-18-12
I need a helper
This was written as I realized the immensity of the task of setting up the new house.
The task is so much lighter,
with a helping friend.
A cheerful smile helps so,
with a hand to lend.
The hardest task is easier,
with a friend to get it done.
Two plus two can equal five.
and this hardest task is fun.
Come and help me brother.
Sister lend a smile.
We’ll get there sooner, happier.
Let’s together walk this mile.
It’s no great mystery.
Let’s together get it done.
A task that once was misery,
now is kind of fun.
Raise a barn, or paint the walls,
shovel, wire, weed,
sweep or mop or cook and clean,
a helper’s what I need.
Raise a barn, or paint the walls,
shovel, wire, weed,
sweep or mop or cook and clean,
a helper’s what I need.
Thought
Dad’s smile of kind affection,
and hugs of approval,
are all I ever needed or desired.
Poem
About being with a lover. The blessing of being in love.
To You
To taste your lips.
To touch your hand.
To feel your skin.
energies pass.
To become.
To love.
To breathe.
To pray.
Help me
be whole.
At peace.
Today.
Fly with me to,
to eternal morn.
Renewed, strengthened,
rebirthed, reborn.
To become
one with the sun.
The time of waiting
has passed, is done.
Let me come now,
deep inside.
Let love reign now,
undenied.
The passing storm.
The coming bright.
Be my shelter.
Be my light.
Over and over and over again.
Beyond darkness,
death,
and sin.
Love me,
Lest I cease to be.
My life.
My eternity.
Kiss me now.
Press unto me.
My life.
My eternity.
Kiss me now.
Press unto me.
My life.
My eternity.
Poem
Dad’s Praise
How I labored to gain my father’s love.
To gain my father’s love.
His respect and praise.
That he could love me fully.
Before his end of days.
His hug, his kiss,
his proud embrace.
A pleased and happy smile,
will make the effort
worth it all.
Endure the climb,
the trial.
Yes, laboring for Dad’s kind bless.
approval and his nod,
is what I’ve worked and hoped for.
His hug, a gift from God.
Yes, laboring for Dad’s kind bless.
approval and his nod,
is what I’ve worked and hoped for.
His hug, a gift from God.
Prose Has Begun 11-23-13
Consider the concept of personal character. Think of a peach pit, hard and unshapable, like a stone. We speak of development of character, but a hard stone cannot be molded or formed. A stone may be crushed or cut, but not molded.
Consider then, the planting of this hard seed. It is buried in the earth, and soon the changes begin. The pit begins to grow, sending downward a root, and upward a stem. The root is seeking water and nutrient, and a strong foot hold. The upward growing stem, unfolding leaves, seeks air and light. The seed is no longer an immutable stone. It can now be shaped and formed by external elements. When the earth is watered or fertilized, the seed is affected. With the dew fall, rain, winds, and temperature change, the now growing plant is affected. The hard and unchanging stone can now change. And this change is governed by external forces.
Within the seeds genetic code is the desire to grow, branch out, blossom and mature. Within the DNA of the stony pit is the desire to bloom, be pollinated, and bear fruit. But first the unyielding pit must be buried.
If this is a metaphor of a human life, when is it when that the seed is buried? Is it at birth, or beginning school that the molding begins? Is it in joining the military, beginning a new job, or going to college that the change begins?
Even a fetus in a womb can be affected by its mother’s experience. A pregnant mother’s behavior and environment can bear heavily on the development of the child within.
The New Testament speaks of baptism as the moment that the seed is buried. Baptism as the dying that brings forth new life.
As I write this, I am sitting beside my father. It is 2;15 am, November 23, 2013. He has been comatose for days. Unless there is a miraculous intervention, he will be dead very soon. I am seeking rebirth in his dying. I am seeking his rebirth in his dying.
He is 91 years old. His life has been one of growth and change. He has loved life. He has lived life. He worked many jobs, travelled the world, had many friends. As an artist, he has had many periods. He married and raised four children. And now he lays his life down, as a seed planted in the soil.
In his last words he said, “I see a whole new world. I am at the portals of another world”.
His soul, his character, as a fully developed seed is planted in Heaven’s soil. His life in Paradise has begun. The immutable seed begins to change again.
