Showing posts with label John Hiatt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Hiatt. Show all posts

Monday, May 31, 2021

In Troibo ad altare Dei: The Continuing Bloomsday Ballad Pt 49




 "We can do no great things; only small things with great love"

 - Mother Teresa






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In Troibo ad altare Dei: The Continuing Bloomsday Ballad Pt 49

"Stately,  plump ..." , so it began
No purpose or map in mind
That mystical GPS guiding gently
As loosed random thoughts and plans meandered
A rudderless boat trusted the sacred wind.
First mates usually know more than they let on.
The sails set and they were off.
June 16 , the day in infamy that changed everything-
Watergate and James' Bloomsday always top of mind, right?
Not being noble the Pilgrim had some perspective
As to the truth about a hill of beans
And  the significance of the problems of pilgrims
As the crazy world was crumbling around them.
Regardless, they proclaimed "I do ." 
Friends, family and themselves
Remain surprised they actually did
And continue to do so. 

Hibbing's homely hobo troubadour reminds those who listen,
" You don't need a weatherman to know
Which way the winds blow."
Navigators and mystics alike ponder
"How did we come up with the idea
To blame poor and sick people
and those of different color or religions
For all the world's problems ?
How many wars , how many acts of violence,
How many pandemics , and how many natural disasters
Before we return to the essence of love, compassion,
Kindness, selflessness, hope, peace and mercy?"
And yet we sail on...

The white collared companion of Jesus pronounced how decisions
Confirm the psychotherapeutic observation how decisions 
Are born from emotions and then justified by the rational.
"Real sacraments are a mystery.
Who knows where this road will take you?
Trust in each other and that great divine essence.
Take a deep grateful centering breath and 
Top it all off with a glass or two of wine."
His voice raised up in song as it should
On holy occasions - 
"To everything there is a season,
Turn! Turn! Turn! A time for every
purpose under heaven"


- JF Sobecki
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June 16,1972

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A Bloomsday Epilogue




 
  Until I Gain Control Again- JF Sobecki  (R. Crowell)

                            
  https://youtu.be/4sui9f3ahzw


                                     
 Stolen Moments - John Hiatt
                                                       

           No Hard Feelings - The Avett Brothers
 

  
                           
This is Us - Emmy Lou Harris and Mark Knopfler
   


               Farther On - Jackson Browne                                         

  https://youtu.be/JwN_FbwWpjM


                   Family - Joe Walsh                                                                                 

https://youtu.be/XbQLhjOrfmE

                         

               Turn!Turn! Turn! - The Byrds

  https://youtu.be/W4ga_M5Zdn4  


Amdg





Copyright 2021 JF Sobecki LLC All Rights Reserved









Monday, October 1, 2018

Trying and Being



" For us there is only the trying.The rest is not our business."
- T.S. Eliot

" vanity of vanities! All thing are vanity!
Vanity of human toil.
What profit it have we from all the toil
which we toil under the sun?"
 - Eccl 1:2-4

"What do you want? " St. Augustine said that all our desires are really a longing for God in disguise; where there is real desire , there is prayer. So, be at peace in your desire, you are already praying."
   - Sacred Space , Novena Day 2

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Trying and Being

Sometimes it takes a spark to light the fire.
Sometimes the lighting is sourced from the love fueled
by an encouraging voice who has more faith
in you than you have in yourself.
The battle between vanity, ego, pride and humility
rages on ever since the spirit was illuminated
by the difference. Fantasies of grandiosity attempt
to drown any considerations of raw reality or neurotic insecurity.
Coaches shout “Shoot the god dammed ball!
You don’t score points if you don’t shoot and we don’t
win the game if we don’t get any points!”
Your inner voice asks “Is all this about playing and winning a game 
by accumulating points? 
What if one just wanted to play - you know no points, no rewards - 
just being ?”
Sometimes simplicity of letting go completely…
is the success… 
the authenticity of truth, just trying and trust.

- JF Sobecki

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Slow Turning - J. Hiatt

https://youtu.be/2L22C5IJTfE


Roll with it Baby - S. Winwood
https://youtu.be/u_vkKozA8OI

Its all up to what you value - G. Harrison
 
https://youtu.be/JtzPtDxy1ic
















“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 tree.”
   –Thomas Merton


My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. 
- T. Merton


amdg



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

“The only truth is music”
       - Jack Kerouac

















Copyright 2018 JF Sobecki All Rights Reserved







Sunday, July 1, 2018

Scrantchum



Scrantchum

Martians used to preach
Of days they’d reach
The earth
Now they’ve given up
Discovering what it is worth

  - JF Sobecki ( !967)

  • Inspired by the nonsense word “Scrantchum” coined by the late DJ Dan Ingram







“If you comprehend it, it is not God”

      - St. Augustine

_____________

Witness the wonder.
The sun rising illuminating everything beneath.
The fresh springs leading to streams , the streams to rivers and
The rivers pouring life into the great sea of mercy.
Mountains majestically reach to kiss the the passing clouds
Just below the virgin blue canopy of heaven.
Oliver’s mockingbirds’ voices sound soulful
Singing sweet psalms.
Leaves and swamp reeds sway sweetly
Left and right gently moved by a breeze
Born a continent away by a cocoon birthed butterfly
Testing her new wings in flight
As hawks and robins soar sharing the remaining pure air.
What is this solemnity, this deep holiest of the most holy solace,
The peace that passeth all understanding?
Is any of this creation benefited or better off because of the presence
Of the two legged sentient beings gifted with reason and creative arts?
Is that natural magnificence made any more peaceful or beautiful by these landlocked spirits?
Do they help any of that which was gifted to the universe breathe any easier
Or grow in genuine purity as a result of their efforts?
Was it the same divine artist that started this universe 
With the most incredible hues of love , beauty , compassion , peace and mercy
Who also devised the distorted colors of greed , violence, selfishness, ownership and control to share on the same canvas  together?

Did something go array with the grand plan
Or is it all really a matter of faith and belief that in the end it all works out?
How?
It’s a mystery

  - JF Sobecki

____________________________________

“I do believe; help my unbelief.”
      Mark 9:24

  Treat a stranger right - Ry Cooder


                                                    Have a little Faith in Me - John Hiatt



                                                 Give Me Love , Give Me Peace - G. Harrison




Autumn Poem by 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.



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

“The only truth is music”
       - Jack Kerouac


amdg



















Copyright JF Sobecki LLC 2018 All Rights Reserve