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.
One day, a Farmer's horse escaped into the hills. When the farmer’s neighbors sympathized with the old man over his bad luck, the farmer replied, “Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?”
A week later, the horse returned with a herd of horses from the hills. This time the neighbors congratulated the farmer on his good luck. His reply was “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?”
Then when the farmer’s son was attempting to tame one of the wild horses, he fell off its back and broke his leg. Everyone thought this was very bad luck. The farmer’s reaction: “Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?”
Some weeks later, the army marched into the village and conscripted every able-bodied youth they found there. When they saw the farmer’s son with his broken leg, they let him off.
"Good Luck? Bad Luck? Who knows?
- Ancient Chinese Parable
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"Dear Whit, (Whit Burnett)
So answer the question you asked me all those years ago.
Yes, I am willing to write for the rest of my life and get nothing in return.
Sincerely yours , J.D. Salinger"
" One Day I will Find the right woods and they will be simple."
- Jack Kerouac
"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood to live."
- HD Thoreau
"I write to discover what I know."
- Flannery O'Connor
"I am more of a Quaker than anything else. I believe in the 'still, small voice', and that voice is Christ within us."
- Emerson, Ralph Waldo
Little Egg Harbor Monthly Meeting House ( Quakers )
"You ain't gone far enough to say at least I tried
You ain't worked hard enough to say I've done mine
You ain't run far enough to say my legs have failed
You ain't gone far enough
You ain't worked hard enough
You ain't run far enough to say it ain't gonna get any better."
- Hey Mama, Nathaniel Raitliff
"Spirits are using me
Larger voices calling"
- Southern Cross, S. Stills
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Note from Blogger:
Bored and waiting and waiting and bored in an almost vacant airport terminal. An ancient used bookstore
appears out of nowhere.Sipping a latte, the aisles become some strange maze until this soul is drawn to an aisle of poetry. Lifting assorted volumes whining sounds of unwanted strays whine "Take Me! Take Me!"
Seeking to conjure genuine compassion for each volume two books jump into the searching hands. "Heap O' Livin" Vol I&II by Edgar A. Guest Published 1916 are saved. One poem within , "Don't Quit" strikes that lost chord. The books purchased and when they find their place on my "To be read" stack a letter in an unaddressed, no stamp envelope slips from the pages. The date on the letter indicates it was written days ago.
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The Letter
April 5, 2022
Seaview , NJ
My Dear Friend Statler,
I know you think I think too much. Well, I was thinking about our exchange the other day.
Tiger Woods recently struggled through four rounds of competitive golf in four consecutive days walking one of the most hilly arduous courses in the world. It was 400 days since his last official round of golf. Back surgeries , then a life threatening car accident and surgeries attempting to fix broken legs. He didn't do that well playing golf but his victory was in finishing.
There comes a time when body parts wear us down and we slow down and become more selective in what games we play, how we live and where and when and why we decide to continue to play our our parts in the great play. Oftentimes a better choice is just to be present and be grateful for what we do have and the the run that we have had. Though, someone once observed "Not to decide is to decide."
A confidante once advised as this soul trudged on through that ever-disconcerting maze that there comes a time when we get to play the back nine ( the finishing holes.) Fatigue and aches , pains and worries can overwhelm and influence how, when and why we may continue or not to play the game. Sometimes it is the good decision just to be present to the now savoring each breath and heart beat of all of creation and this decision is more than sufficient to keep us alive.
There comes a time when some souls become aware that the point of all this is more than seeking that reward or recognition. Some parts of the play are meant for seasoned professionals and not appropriate for seasoned old people. A former colleague counsels on the necessity and benefits of having a personal mission to achieve while on this journey. Yet, he admits his admiration for "river runners" who let go and allow the river to take them to where they need to be and how.The unseen wind with her mysterious source and the mystical currents often carry these pilgrims as they pray to be mindful and trust in how this is everything, This is it.
While at university back in the day this soul had no plan. Receiving a diploma fueled the separation anxiety. Graduate school seemed a reasonable course of action. There a professor , a student of Blake, guided lost sheep with the ease of a master shepherd. "You can do that. be a teacher", a hidden voice said. Soon this soul then found himself celebrating dead poets.With the blink of an eye teaching turned to counseling the hungry hearts. Escape to another graduate school to get the tools and rules of counseling seemed a good idea at the time. The new university became a cocoon of formation that led to being invited to join the ranks of that academic community. The honorary regalia robed lords of the castle of knowledge made it known that if they could get rid of those lost sheep they could get more published. The self anointed grand wizards of that ivy covered facade treated the rest as indentured servants. Another secret voice from outside the walls called to secure a role where one could use the skills and tools of teaching and counseling to fill silos without encumbrances. Blue jeans and chalkboards turned into suits and PowerPoints and soon this wandering disciple evolved to an "Obe Wan in Training " a consigliere to E- Suite inhabitants in the business world. "Spirits still using me with larger voices calling."
Perfect storms always arrive without warning. This novitiate soon found himself as captain owner trying to keep the practice from floundering when wind and waves knocked the the Homeric Galley up and down and all about. She was finally swept away by a riptide. Pieces lay on the shoreline. Depressed and in a way humiliated a mentor called saying," Shit, you really had a good run. Who else do you know who has a cadre of executives around the world on their speed dial?" I was more worried about what my wife would say and how my children would feel. My wife said "OK, let's think about how we can manage this. We can always downsize our lifestyle."
Do you believe in angels?
One of those executives on this soul's speed dial reached out calling me, " What happened to that piss and vinegar that I have come to know and love in you? I guess I have more faith in you than you have in yourself." Just like that he abruptly hung up the phone.
Riding in and out of the funk of feeling like being knocked down by one wave after another wondering where was that light, that hope , that trust and that blessedness I once felt ? Was it all a dream? While meandering a lonely half abandoned shopping mall , a once cathedral of commerce , when suddenly a one of this pilgrim's former college students appeared like Marley's Ghost smiling a joyful grin . Recognizing this wandering soul he reached out his hand and said "Oh Captain, My Captain." I fought back the tears.
Do you remember the line form that old Richard Thompson song?
"There is no rest for the one's God Blest and he blest you most of all."
Thought dreams and questions swirled faster and faster.
He wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
“What is the point of all this?
How did this all get so corrupted and twisted inside out?
A friend’s father suggested the divine decides
To thin the heard every 20 to 30 years.
Did we ever consider how we may
Be contributing to these distractions now and those to come?
Sometimes the distractions are much more destructive
Then we could ever dream about.
This is not about you or me.
We are not here for our own benefit and delight are we?
‘Love everyone’ is painted on both church and tenement walls.
The American poet wrote “The happiest man is he who learns from nature the lesson of worship.’
Why do I believe what I believe?
Where is it written that this person or group of people
Are better than another person or group, or have the right answer ?
One schooled economist analyzed and promulgated how there are
Enough resources on this earth to feed, clothe, shelter
And care for every living being.
A billboard on Dylan’s Highway 61 read ‘Compassion.’
The Yoda settled in his Shaker Mission chair suggested,
‘The greatest love you can give your children
Is to love your spouse. Consider the world you are leaving
to your children and grandchildren.’”
The Pilgrim recalled recently wandering through a deep mysterious fog
Into a Cigar Shop where the owner who once lived in Eastern Europe, lighted him a welcoming cigar , asked him to have a seat
And the Cigar Man began ,
“ I came to America to be free. America is a wonderful place.
Yet , Americans are clueless to all that they have.
I have experienced how unbridled anger ,
Jealousy and greed leads to violence and war
All because people had different views .
Unfortunately Americans somehow believe all that it can’t happen here.
I thought the American political process would be better than the rest of the world. Whatever happened to coming up with solutions to solve problems rather than spending one’s energy disparaging
The opponent or their constituents while fueling more anger?
Is the common good of the country not important anymore?
What’s wrong with trying to bring people together?
I wish you all would study more what happened in Eastern Europe and What continues there today.”
Easying into his soft leathered arm chair he concluded , “You know people from all walks of life and opinions gather, smoke cigars and have a little escape from the angst in this smoke shop. It is amazing to be with people who respect each other , talk , laugh and smoke a good cigar.”
Somehow sanctified a smile swept across the pilgrim’s face as he grabbed his lit cigar, waved a grateful farewell saying -
