Sunday, April 30, 2017

Welcome Mighty Quinn

“Don’t push a river, it flows by itself.”
        - Fritz Perls

“Like a stone on the surface of a still river
Driving the ripples on forever
Redemption rips through the surface of time
In the cry of a tiny babe”
     - Cry of a Tiny Babe, Bruce Cockburn

"Some people say faith is a childish game
Play on, children, like it's Christmas day
Sing me a song, sing me a melody
Sing out loud, you're a symphony"
            - Liver Forever, Drew Holcombe

 "Everybody's building the big ships and boats

Some are building monuments, others jotting down notes
Everybody's in despair, every girl and boy
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here everybody's gonna jump for joy"
            - The Mighty Quinn, Bob Dylan

On April 20, 2017 Hal Crowson Rich V, aka –“Quinn” was born to Hal and Leigh Rich

Well, it is said, “You can’t push a river, it flows by itself.” We were waiting and trusting, and then the miracle happened. Welcome, Quinn, Welcome! It was a wonder filling surprise that the love that we were all waiting to give to you upon your arrival was in fact the most magnificent unconditional love that blessed all who welcomed you.

Upon your arrival your mother and father knew that they were holding pure love in their arms. They experienced the sacred gift of your presence that was sourced by the love of a divine spark that makes your life a true sacrament. GG believes that you and your cousin Caroline are proof that angels do exist.

I wonder the reason for your crying. Do you hunger for food of this world or the nourishment of the love that brought you into this side of paradise? Your secret smiles tell me that you are aware of some great mystical answer that we will all return to when the river delivers us into that ocean of mercy. But somehow you also know that there is specialness in the present as you rest against your mother’s heart and hear her song while sensing the gentle power of your father’s hands.

I am not sure if there is much that I can share with you about the world you have entered. I have tried to explain to your mother and your Zia Lindsay and I am not sure how successful I have been. So, here are a few lessons I have learned that might be useful. I hope you find it worthwhile.

There is a lot of goodness in this world. Sometimes all you need to do is open your heart to find the goodness. It helps to associate with good people who are like your mom and dad. Good always overcomes evil. Being present and mindful with gratitude to the present moment will get you closer to the sacred in this world. Spending time in nature will immerse you in that peace that you knew before you were born. Long walks in the woods and sitting on the beach witnessing sunrises and sunsets are serene up-lifting moments. Storms happen but remember storms end - so keep the faith.

Every so often you might make a mistake but that is just proving that you are human. It is said,  “ If a problem can be solved…why worry and if problem is unsolvable, worrying will not help.” Never worry, it all works out in the end. How? It's a mystery.
Be authentic and honest and always show compassion and mercy. You will be remembered by how you live and love and not by how much you have or have not accumulated. It really doesn’t matter as to how you “make” a living as long as you live well, live with love, integrity and truth. The secrets to success are to use your talents as they have been given to you for a reason. Follow your bliss.

No one should be taken for granted as God creates us all. Remember there are those who are less fortunate and need your help. Look at the values and careers of your mom and dad. Don’t forget that you are loved and that loving yourself and others is what life is really all about. My own father used to say “ Do the right thing because it is the right thing and not because you desire some reward.”

Sing, dance, laugh and help others do the same. Play- set your spirit free. If you play sports or play music play with all your heart and energy. If you love to write, paint or solve scientific or mathematical problems immerse yourself completely in whatever you do.

Read everything you can .You can find wisdom in good books and find the soul of the divine in poetry and songs. Your Grandma Louise reminded me that if you play music or sing are praying twice! If you love to write, never stop as “writing is knowing” and you will find yourself and the secret to tranquility.

It may take a while to realize this, but God is in all things all ways and prayer works! 
Trust your intuition. Be amazed by life and know you will amaze others.

Flourish all ways.
Te voglio bene assai, bene assai.



Mighty Quinn

Live Forever

Forever Young

I hope you dance

Remember Me


Copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved JF Sobecki LLC

Saturday, April 1, 2017

An April Fool’s Lament 2017

So there he was   
On his way to find out

“When will I be a butterfly?
Who has that secret map leading to the treasure of treasures?
What books need to be read? What poems have the great insight? Who has possession of that great book of illumination? If I read it will I becoming any closer to knowing the answer? What songs should be sung ? When what songs are played do I to stop anything I am doing and dance when I hear them? Where is that great hermitage and what meditations and prayers will connect me to the source of everything? Is it the real truth that peace and love were the intentions of the universe? Does the existence of silence mean that there is nothing other than what we see or is it that the silence is the source great ineffable consolation?
See the geese returning from their winter retreat. What do they know that we don’t? Hear the sweet song of the chimes? Where and who is the source of that sacred wind that causes the chimes to console the ever-wandering spirit? Isn’t music proof of the sacred? Do tea ceremonies really work? Do religious ceremonies and spiritual exercises of any kind fuel anything? Is it true that the Book of Wisdom was written by a woman or is it that woman is the essence of wisdom? Is it really evil that feeds desires and invents those attachments that keep us from knowing the truth? It is the commencement of April and Eliot is wrong. It is National Poetry Month, right? It is not just resurrection but birth and the joy of life we are waiting to celebrate. That long cold lonely winter is over.”

Paradise was never lost it was within just waiting for him to stop asking questions and live it.

He Thought,,"It ain't over yet!"

On the Road to Find Out – Cat Stevens

It ain’t over – Rodney Crowell

Cousin Caterpillar

If you want to sing out – Cat Stevens

 Here Comes the Sun - ( G. Harrison) Performed by JF Sobecki and Friends

The Layers

Related Poem Content Details

I have walked through many lives, 
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
“Live in the layers,
not on the litter.”
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.


“One day I will find the right words and they will be simple”
        - Jack Kerouac

“The only truth is music”
       - Jack Kerouac


Copyright JF Sobecki LLC 2017 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

The Zen of Baseball

“The game of (base) ball is glorious”
                         – Walt Whitman.             
Ted Williams with Red Ormsby the Umpire

“…Baseball is a lot like religion.
Its followers put their faith and hope in uncontrollable forces in search of fulfillment and inner joy….

Baseball is about coming home. The whole point of the game is to finish where you begin – home plate – and once you are home you are finally safe."
 - James Penrice, The Spiritual Lessons of    

“In my beginning is my end…
Home is where one starts from…
In my end is my beginning.”
               -T. S. Eliot, “East Coker”

“Your grandfather once told me it was ok to think about what you want to do until it was time to start doing what you were meant to do.”
                 - The Rookie

So where does one get the authentic sense of purpose and identity? What event during one’s younger years sparks that flame to burn and cast a true light as to where one should be headed. Who created that spark? What was the point of this spark in the first place? Why does this flame make everything crystal clear and yet still muddy the waters of one’s own desires and notions about what and where one should be? Could there be more than one flame or more than one source? Would another flame appear if one burned out? Is there any end to the sparks?

Was that youth recreation baseball coach some angelic spirit in human disguise? How did he get here? What was his purpose? Why did he busy himself with encouraging his young charges to be authentic, free to be one’s self, joyful and be in the moment? How did time become no time? Seizing the day, the moment never seemed to be so real did it? How did winning and losing evaporate and get carried away by some sacred breeze?

Who would have thought that the smell of linseed oil on leather would replace that of incense? Who would have believed that the 108 stitches on a baseball would coincidentally be the same number as Buddhist prayer beads or two mysteries of the Catholic Rosary?

Was this the great lesson that could not be taught or understood in school and churches? Were the players who were selected identified by some greater spirit as needing to learn the lesson of unconditional love for self and others, truth, authenticity, faith and integrity by playing this game for this coach ?

And by the way when did the last two words of the National Anthem become “Play Ball?”
Can I hear an "Amen?"

                                         Game is called - Grantland Rice


Game Called

Game Called. Across the field of play

the dusk has come, the hour is late.

The fight is done and lost or won,

the player files out through the gate.

The tumult dies, the cheer is hushed,

the stands are bare, the park is still.

But through the night there shines the light,

home beyond the silent hill.

Game Called. Where in the golden light

the bugle rolled the reveille.

The shadows creep where night falls deep,

and taps has called the end of play.
he game is done, the score is in,

the final cheer and jeer have passed.
But in the night, beyond the fight,

the player finds his rest at last.

Game Called. Upon the field of life

the darkness gathers far and wide,

the dream is done, the score is spun

that stands forever in the guide.
Nor victory, nor yet defeat

is chalked against the players name.
But down the roll, the final scroll,
shows only how he played the game
 - Grantland Rice
                                         People will come – Field of Dreams


                                         Docs Dream- Field of Dreams


                                          Farewell Moonlight – Fields of Dreams


                                        Hey Dad Wanna Catch? – Field of Dreams


                                         For the love of the game-  Just Throw

                                       The Natural - Ending



( Dedicated to Coach B who taught me to let go , be present and be myself - to live , work and play with joy and love. I still have my youth baseball glove at hand to help me remember to remember.
I always loved having a catch with my daughters. You ladies are the best! Get out your gloves for our next get together.)

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Wednesday, February 1, 2017

The Silence and the Wham

So was Rodrigues’ crisis over the silence
A crisis of faith?
Or was it the silence making some
Commentary about his life
Or life in general?
Is the silence just a matter of existence
And nothing more?

Sometimes, just sometimes decay just seems to begin.
Sometimes the elements wear down the exterior as well and the interior
And isn’t it true that without the proper attention
The decay grows over time?
No thing is perfect.
But, then sometimes isn’t David’s perfect chord
Discovered when on some excursion along the way?

Merton said that the worthwhile journey
Is the journey of the interior.
However,  those who rely on the advice of a meditative Cheshire cat
Should realize the advice should be qualified.

Wherever you go
And whomever you are with -  does matter.
The great artist is still working with an incomplete virgin canvas.
Paying attention means everything
And yet letting go is being purely authentic
Because wherever you are you are is
Where you are and where you need to be, right?

Why is it that all watches are not reliable?
How is one to know if their timepiece
Is certified as accurate?
What does being “on time” mean outside of the playing music anyway?
Tolle said time is an illusion didn’t he?
That which was  cannot be changed
That which will be is a thought not realized.
All things pass, so being here now is reality.
How the now is spent and with whom is all that matters 
Whether there is silence or not, right?



                                                               Pay Attention

There are us and there are them
"All that we share"
Good for the Denmark - Good for US!

Love and Mercy - B. Wilson

and when in doubt play a little Van Morrison.

Hymns to The Silence - Van the Man

Holy Guardian Angel - Van the Man

If you are one of faith or have no faith see this movie.

Silence - Film By M. Scorcese

Copyrigh JF Sobecki LLC All Rights Reserved 2017

Sunday, January 1, 2017

A New Year Articulation

"For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning."
—T.S. Eliot

noun: articulation; plural noun: articulations
the action of putting into words an idea or feeling of a specified type
                                                  the formation of clear and distinct sounds in speech
clarity in the production of successive notes
the act or manner of uttering a speech sound, especially a consonant.


It was Daybreak
Something was different
Something was new.
It was Daybreak.
The last of the darkness faded away
Like smoke drifting to the heavens
From a burned out fire.
It was Daybreak.
Witness the birth of the new.
It was in that moment
When the promise of a redemption
Was being realized.
It was Daybreak.
New Moment, New day, new month, a New Year!
All that was withdrew with the tide.
Footprints from the journey so far washed away.
And the virgin sand waits.
Gulls glide and soar in delight.
Seeking sandpipers continue
Their Bishop chasing and retreating.
It was Daybreak.
Spirits refreshed by the silent sacred salt air.
Gentle divine breath blesses.
It is this silence that transforms the notes
Sung by the morning birds
And chimes into music
As she transforms the souls.
Time has no meaning here.
On the beach receiving  and welcoming.
Consoled, illuminated and Sanctified,
Purist Peace, Love, Compassion and Hope
Are again articulated.

Dawn around the world with a 360 degrees and see

Morning - Beck

Morning has broken - Cat Stevens

Additional note:

It has been advised that a blog about music might be an appropriate consideration.
Until such a time the following will need to suffice.

It was so sad to experience the passing on of so many excellent singer songwriters in 2016 but witnessing and reading the abundant tributes it became evident that two of this author’s favorites were not mentioned among many of the tributes and remembrances!

Guy Clark and Merle Haggard are two who have inspired and consoled this writer. Their simple sweet songs captured a human essence rarely experienced in contemporary music today. I guess the best way for me to honor their passing is not just to post a sample or two of their songs here but to make sure they show up on my own set list. Thank you men…miss you!

NB: For all you Country Music newbies the real original country music had and still maintains real poetic natural homespun soul and was much more than the slick overproduced Las Vegased country twanged guitars and affective nasal south of the  Mason-Dixon line vocals  with playing three chord rock n roll riffs and beats in disguise you hear on the radio today. Some of that new genre ain’t bad but no matter what the industry calls it “it ain’t country!”

Desperadoes Waiting For a Train

Sing Me Back Home

That’s the way Love Goes

Wishing you all a hope and wonder-filled - blessed New Year!


Copyright all Rights Reserved 2017 JF Sobecki LLC