For some there comes a time when a second chance is given.That time then becomes a celebration of the unrecognized gifts of the past and humble gratitude for the wonder of present.
This then is a collection of reflections and comments on life,work,love and faith to be sung ,and danced to, in thanksgiving for a second chance.
"Dear Child of God, you are loved with a love that nothing can shake, a love that loved you long before you were created, a love that will be there long after everything has disappeared.”
—Desmond Tutu
“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
Dear Charlotte
They say the greatest gift one can receive or give is the gift of love.
It is no doubt then that your arrival to this world and presence is in truth a sacred event, a sacrament. You are the embodiment of love , the love between your mother and your father, the love of your sister as well as the love of your extended family. But most of all your life, as a life and creation, is a gift of God , as God is the act of love itself. Your family and the world is blessed by your presence…your beauty, your truth, your wonder, your delight, your trust, inquisitiveness and your unconditional love for those around you. It has been said “Fall in love , stay in love because that is everything .”
Everyone around you loved you before you arrived and if it is possible we all loved you even more the moment you were born.I believe that the best way to maintain and grow this love is to : be authentic and be the person you are meant to be( follow your heart); be honest , truthful and kind ; act and live in integrity; love everyone and everything; be selfless; remember those who are less fortunate than you ; always be grateful and humble ; there are good and bad people in this world - know and trust the good people in your life; when you hear good music dance your heart out; remember poetry and many songs are windows to the great secrets of the universe; when I felt alone or blue I would walk along a great beach or head for the pastoral beauty of a forest( I would know I am not alone)- Nature thrives and fills up the soul with the sacred ; don’t be afraid to be amazed as you will always amaze everyone; and, when in doubt pray… it works!
... and as John and Paul once wrote "the love you take is equal to the love you make."
Te viglio bene assai, bene assai.
Nonno
Xox
P.S. As I mentioned to your sister every time you hear a Beatles song …think of me because I am with you always.
Forever Young - Bob Dylan
https://youtu.be/Frj2CLGldC4
I hope you Dance - L. Womack
https://youtu.be/iN9bwC5UZUs
Remember Me - T. Rundgren
https://youtu.be/z4vJIhv67M4
And since you are a Christmas blessing - here are a couple of my favorite Christmas songs for you.
Sitting at his morning journal the words flowed from some unknown source through his hand , to the pen and onto the virgin pages:
It seems to me that as a young boy teachers , parents , Priests and all kinds of folks who seemed to pass some marker of progress hiding their own sins and missteps while on their Odysseys felt qualified to ask the same question to young people over and over as if it were some test. I think it was vain attempt at redemption so young people wouldn’t make the same mistakes:
They asked:
“So what are you going to be when you grow up?”
As the years seemed to continue carry this travel wearied vessel downstream to some unknown sea the question persisted . So, I started making up answers-
Truck Driver…Why? They get to travel around the country and get paid for it.
A hobo - See the country by riding the rails and maybe I could get day jobs here and there.
A Priest - As I owed God big time for helping me pass that 8th grade exam I didn’t study for and I prayed and prayed up until the test papers were handed out. The Nuns said God never forgets!
Musician - When I heard Buddy Holly and saw the Kingsmen of Louie Louie fame I said “this it , I gotta do this” and when the Beatles arrived I was baptized and confirmed all at once to venture down that long and winding road…didn’t get very far though. Distracted as usual .
Maybe a Writer - of some sort…I had started reading stories and poems that interested me and I began a journal , writing in the late hours or just before dawn in a spiral notebook with bits and pieces of just about anything one could write about. I never did share those writings with anyone nor did I tell anyone out of fear that someone might find out the truth about who I really was and why,
Counselor or teacher - you know a ‘Catcher in the Rye’ where I could live out my fantasy of being just like the character in Holden Caufield's dream.
….( Actually a grand plan was never developed . The plan evolved into to having no plan. The goal was refined to have no goal. Well, in truth any and all plans and goals shifted like the wind. Besides Lennon seemed to write directly to me that ‘life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.” )….
Then there was brief consideration about becoming an Athlete - Sounded good but I lacked the physical talent yet I did have a youth baseball coach who encouraged me constantly and much to my surprise I was selected for the league’s all-star team. I was having too much fun to realize that I had developed some skills and was performing above average. That coach used to say ‘just be yourself , have fun besides you will only be remembered by how you played the game.
As the summer ended we went our separate ways and coach gave me a crumpled up piece of paper with a poem. I thought ‘ poem?”
It read..
Game Called.( G. Rice)
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.
The 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.
Sometimes the best lessons about being who we are meant to be and life come from those secret mystical unexpected places that echo and caress the truth.
“What’s truly of value in life? what gives our lives meaning? We weren't born to cause trouble or harm. To be of value, we must develop basic good human qualities warmth, kindness, compassion. Then our life will become happier and more meaningful.”
- Dalai Llama
“A tree gives glory to God by being a tree. For in being what God means it to be it is obeying [God]. It “consents,” so to speak, to [God's] creative love. It is expressing an idea which is in God and which is not distinct from the essence of God, and therefore a tree imitates God by being a tr
I'm almost at home But please do not follow I've nothing to teach except that goal falls short of the reach
( thanks to member of the band for pointing this poem out in a collection gathering dust on the shelf)
Autumn Poem - Mary Oliver
In the last jovial, clear-sky days of autumn
the mockingbird
in his monk-gray coat
and his arrowy wings
flies
from the hedge to the top of the pine
and begins to sing — but it's neither loose, nor lilting, nor lovely —
it's more like whistles and truck brakes and dry hinges.
All birds are birds of heaven
but this one, especially, adores the earth so well
he would imitate, for half the day and on into the
evening,
its ticks and wheezings,
and so I have to wait a long time
for the soft, true voice
of his own glossy life
to come through,
and of course I do.
I don't know what it is that makes him, finally, look
inward
to the sweet spring of himself, that mirror of heaven,
but when it happens —
when he lifts his head
and the feathers of his throat tremble,
and he begins, like Saint Francis,
little flutterings and leapings from the pine's forelock,
resettling his strong feet each time among the branches,
I am recalled,
from so many wrong paths I can't count them,
simply to stand, and listen.
All my life I have lived in a kind of haste and darkness
of desire, ambition, accomplishment.
Now the bird is singing, but not anymore of this world.
And something inside myself is fluttering and leaping, is
trying
to type it down, in lumped-up language,
in outcry, in patience, in music, in a snow-white book.
“You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”
- Subterranean Homesick Blues ,Bib Dylan
“ Lay Down all thoughts , surrender to the void
It is shining, it is shining
Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being…”
- Tomorrow Never Knows. Lennon and McCartney
“If you want to see God laugh, tell him your plans”
- Woody Allen
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Peripatetic Musing Number 132
The problem with GPS is that it is no different
From the old Atlas Road Maps or Seafaring Navigational Charts.
You can plan where you are headed and chart a course
But you never know what is going to happen along the way.
Sometimes things happen and you didn’t even start the journey.
Just as everything was going smoothly, winds blowing right, fair skies,
Sometimes “There comes a time when all the cosmic tumblers click into place”
But sometimes everything falls apart…tragedy, storms, nightmares.
The worst case scenario seemed to randomly surface without notice.
Just as we were on the road to celebrate a nice evening with good friends
The phone call came on a the mobile phone…a call no one dares to consider
Or ever dream of ….but suddenly the words on the line flowed
Like poison about to kill our spirits….it was our landscaper ,
In a quivering voice he said “ I am so sorry…I don’t know what to say…
I accidentally ( long pause) cut your state of the art cable to your house.”
Immediately we knew what that meant….the horror, the pain , the sadness,
The aloneness, the angst , the grief and on and on and on….
What would I do? No Television, no internet access- through computers
Or state of the art “smart phone” and just as bad - no land line phone.
Panic started to set in and I composed myself long enough to call the cable company.The news did not improve…it would be three days before anyone could come out And check and “Hopefully repair” the problem.
Oh, the pain. What to do?What to do?
I submitted to my plight and tried not to allow it to interfere with
Our visit with our close friends and then the second call came.
It was our landscaper again. I shook as I answered the call. I didn’t think
I could handle any more traumatic news.
But he said “ I got some tools and extra cable and I think your cable is fixed.”
Alleluia! Thank you Jesus! Everything was right with the world again.
“But, you will have to check everything when you get home.”
Relief! A great sigh expunged all the angst. Admittedly I tried to remain
Present with the company our friends but there were frequent drifts to the great anticipation and expectation when we would arrive home.
I could hardly wait.
Relief and calm slowly settled in…as the worry about the potential lack of
Necessary technologies began to evaporate.
No more anticipating a probable monastic lifestyle for at least three days.
No more concern about missing critical email correspondence of notice
Of packages about to be delivered or last minute sales of music equipment or
No missed messages from long lost friends who who reach out every four years or so.
No more concern about missing that favorite repeat of “Law and Order” on TV or scrolling
The laundry list of 100’s of channels that might have that one show I would accidentally view!
No more worry about missing that phone call or message from my pharmacy say that
My prescription had been filled
Or missing the phone call that would let me know that thing I ordered was in.
I din’t have to think about all the books on my shelf waiting to be read or the songs whose lyrics and chords I had printed out so I could practice on my guitar. I no longer had to think about how and when to pack my bike in my car so I could ride along the beach on the island.
Relief…what a feeling. Whew I dodged a bullet!
Whew!!!
Three hours later, the drive home was so slow everyone seemed to decide that night that the posted speed limit was just right and every driver would abide . Finally , finally …we arrived and I jumped from the car more excited
Than a four year old on Christmas morning.
Computer … on, Tv …on , picked up the phone and realized with overwhelming dismay
Nothing was working. Maybe I did something wrong. Retry everything….Nothing.
My God , My God why have you forsaken me?
It was difficult to sleep that night. What will I do? What will I do?
The next morning I made some coffee and was submissive to my fate.
I sat in and prayed in silence and solitude. For some reason unexplained no though surface about my technological circumstance. Something else seemed to settle in to this spirit.
The last of the darkness of the night faded into light slowly with each breath. The morning bird sweetly softly singing her simple solo song
Accompanied by the chimes intermittent ringing by the salted holy wind,
The breath of God.
The tops of the proud-full trees were crowned with the glow of the arriving sun. Everything was illuminated, flowers colors shown brightly and shadows appeared
Of gliding gulls in from the from the coast as they laughed.
I was Breathing in, breathing out
Eyes closed everything seemed to be clear in that moment.
The pen in hand mystically glided freely without intent or purpose
Words flowed like rain into a paper cup ,pools of sorrow ,waves of joy
Drifted in my open mind. * filling virgin pages.
Just like that…the bubble of the first world worries flew away.
