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.
It started out as one of those normal good Fridays : coffee , paper, and the dog outside for a whiff of the finally
spring air while marking his ground. The sacred day was upon everything and
everyone. The pilgrim didn’t realize how holy it was about to become
“We all mark our ground in one way or another,” the pilgrim
reflected.
To watch the dog no one would surmise that cancer had
invaded his physical being as he carefully observed birds dart from here to
there. He and his human companion listened to what seemed to be the first songs
of spring from a robin that anointed the scene from above.
For the first time in what seemed to be forever the sun rose
without a cloud to hide her beauty as she commenced the gentle warming of
everything in her sight. Yet, the pilgrim couldn’t shake the picture of from
his head of the once majestic forest of his younger days that had been swept
down by some angel’s broom. That which was needs to fall make room for new seeds and new stories to be lived and told.
“ Everything changes, everything says goodbye,” his poem
turned song lyrics had become a mantra.
And so it began, while those chimes softly echoed with the
assistance of some divine breath. Then just like that…the universe stood still…
absolute, silent, pure, peace and grace-filled. That moment of solitude and
solace was shattered by a distant call where a brotherly tear-filled voice proclaimed
that their mother, who had insisted on going home, had finished her journey and
moved on to just what she had desired.
For hours lightening flashes of a million memories
constantly zipped through his head. His spirit draining his heart finally
rested with the awareness that the sun had reached her peak. It wasn’t until a
friend’s words, “Let love lead you into mystery,” that he understood .
And just like that again .... he awakened and it was Easter.
Pretty Maids All in a Row , J. Walsh and J. Vitale
It was a slow day, one of those Simon days of wonder. Thirty-three
years to the almost exact minute since the lonely pilgrim crossed the finish
line of his long distance run. It wasn’t over as the real race had just begun. Back
then the master mechanic departed without warning ( just days before the marathon
and has been absent for any advice ever since.) Many Ash Wednesdays have come and gone. Just because the prayers were not immediately answered the priest said it didn’t mean
that they were not on file for consideration.
If you could listen closely one could hear a voice singing
out breaking through the darkest silence of the suburban night ….
“I am giving up hope for Lent this year…yeah,yeah,yeah”
He could see his past like some Kevin Burns documentary
- heading down the river to Graceland writing letters with a melancholic song in
his heart. But then man made monuments are often always disappointments. White bronzed
statuettes of the self-proclaimed king surrounded the snow globes with almost
imperceptible caped figurines lost inside. Everywhere he planned to go for redemption seemed more glorious in his
dreams. His grasping for any thing left him with nothing. He would often find himself stuck outside
of Mobile again with the
Memphis blues.
Someone once said sometimes on slow days miracles happen. A sweet
shining sunbeam slipped through the perpetual winter cloud cover like some reverential spotlight ahead
of each step he took as he wondered round the lake. The intermittent confetti snowflakes glittered like
angelic dust blessing him as he processed on with his canine
companion. The eyes closed as he stopped to feel the power of the warmth
and the shimmering cold flakes simultaneously caress his essence. Each moment of grace of his salvation history became
crystal clear all at once.
Smiling that mischievous smile he gratefully muttered
“No angels with stop watches were ever observed along the
way.
It’s never been about the speed but how the race is run,
right?”
He continued his stroll singing out "If I can call you Betty...."
( the following is a sneak peak of an extract from the yet unpublished play "The Emmaus Dialogues")
So
two pilgrims walk into a bar….
It
usually begins something like that doesn’t it?
Pilgrim
1: So my mother is in the hospital
and she says that her doctor is “very nice” and that the food is excellent and
that she is quite pleased to be there. I ask if she is doing any better and
about her prognosis. She answers, “I don’t know. I didn’t ask and no one ever
said. But, the doctor is very nice.”
Pilgrim
2: I think I know what you mean.
Sometimes if we look at what is important to us it might indicate to us what we
really need.
Pilgrim
1: Oh, I don’t know if that is
what I meant at all. I believe we
can easily get focused on the wrong things. My mother should be focused on
getting the medical treatment she is paying for and getting healed and not nice
personalities and good food.
Pilgrim
2: Yeh, I guess that just because
a doctor has his or her medical doctoral degree and passed some type of
examination that the credentials aren’t really a guarantee of proper treatment.
Besides, just because the hospital has all it’s beds filled doesn’t mean it is
a “good hospital.”
Pilgrim
1: It seems to me that the problem is that we live in a “credentialed society” and it seems
that our culture demands “seals of approval” or “Certificates of completion” as
some type of indication of qualification and we don’t really go any deeper than
that.
Pilgrim
2: By the way why are we going into this bar? I would prefer to go to the one
down the street where the bartenders are all graduates of some hoity-toity
college of mixology and spirits. You know that bar where all the formerly
employed investment banker MBA’s hang out.
Pilgrim
1: But you and I both know this bar’s reputation precedes itself. I have a
great looking bar tenderess who always pretends to listen well when you
complain about something personal. Besides they have a great Irish troubadour
for entertainment.
The
two find a table with three empty chairs and sit….
The
exchange continues without missing a beat
Pilgrim
2: I guess it doesn’t make any difference what bar we are in when all we are doing
is drinking is Guinness from a bottle !
Pilgrim
1: You are right! What’s the big
deal about credentials anyway? Life is about doing your best with what you have
while remembering always that it is never about you…but how you treat others.
Pilgrim
2: What? Aren’t we missing a discussion about competence and how, when and why
do we trust others?
Pilgrim
1: Fine, I know society relies on and needs credentials, ratings and rankings
because we have thrown true integrity and conscience out the window. We would
need less reliance on credentials and such if we all just focused on doing the
right thing, for the right reason and doing it the right way?
Pilgrim
2: Now you sound like a Buddhist…
Pilgrim
1: Or…remember what the teacher told us to just love others as you would love
yourself…You know, treat others, as you want to be treated.
Pilgrim
2: OMG! Are you some kind of outrageous ethicist or moralist?
Pilgrim
1: Well, I wonder what would have happened to the great teacher if everyone
demanded to see a holy certificate or a “license to heal anyone ?” But, you know,
what I do know is that in this world the focus on competition has gotten
everything twisted…. you know competition and greed… pushes us all off course. I
really think these competitive and greedy aspects drive most of us to rely on credentials of all kinds
to prove ourselves worthy.
Pilgrim
2: Yeh I guess. So you wanna just split a pitcher instead?
Pilgrim
1: OK as long as you are the “dd”
Pilgrim
2: Sure, but remember I have a DUI and my drivers license is suspended. Anyway,
Here’s to your mom! She was right…. as long as she likes the doctor and the hospital food is good…. and of course if they “do no harm”…who cares about the credentials!
(The wandering imperfect pilgrim wondered about concerns
that have been expressed about the sometimes-esoteric ethereal type constructs
of previous blog posts. So he let go at the end of the Mayan’s calendar and it
sparked a different type of reflection. ….)
Doesn’t it seem that sometimes we are living in some type of
movie? Sometimes it seems as though the movie is a blend of comedy, tragedy,
adventure and an almost science fictional account of some dreamlike experience.
But regardless of the scope and depth of events where there seems to be times
of gentle smiles, tears, nostalgic memories and prayerful reflections, -
through it all there was one aspect that is common and persistent…. music. Movie
scores that are original or adapted are usually constructed by someone who is
not a major player or character in the play. If done well the music and
sometimes lyrics of theme songs and ongoing pieces throughout the movie either
set or reflect the tone. And the pilgrim thinks
"What of our own play?"
Isn’t interesting how hearing some musical piece from the
past sparks a memory about a time, an event, person(s) or locations. The
original emotions are relived all over again. Sometimes it is the melody.
Sometimes it is the lyrics. Sometimes it is the instrumentation or theme.
Sometimes it is the beat that magically gets one’s foot to tap and the urge to
get up and dance is fueled.
Sometimes one can’t help but to sing along. Sad, happy, melancholic,
spiritual, meditative and uplifted moods are mystically conjured when the first
series of opening notes of a song are heard and seep into the deepest hidden
crevices of our souls.
How is it that when one is driving along some winding road
to nowhere in a somber mood and while flipping through some new unknown radio
station on a satellite network suddenly seems to get locked in and that perfect
song from way back when starts or a new piece unknown and unfamiliar catches
your attention? It is a song with lyrics and tempo that suits and sooths your
spirit. It is as if….
And then there's that unforeseen accidental coincidental circumstance
when a particular emotion begins to fire up suddenly some song is heard off in
the distance with apropos lyrics and instrumentation that nurtures the present
spirit. It is almost as if….
Who gave the artists the idea for that arrangement of those notes?
It has been said that all music is just a series of a combination of tones,
pitches and rhythms separated by silence. It is said that it is the space and
timing of the silence that makes these tones and instruments musical. It has been said that we should learn more about the power of silence. Who is this silence really? (But that’s
another reflection.) However, how
did those few selected words that fill dictionaries of hundreds of languages find their way
to accompany the musical melodies to express specifically what you were feeling
or experiencing at that very moment? Or, how is it that these grace-filled emotional
architects are able to give birth to the most perfect synergy of words and
music to inspire or mirror your heart?
It’s a mystery. It is as if….
“What of this last year? How often and how many songs or
musical pieces seemed to mysteriously transcend the spirit? It is not about
what song or musical piece was favored or liked but those pieces that actually fueled
the spirit and reflected the tone of the odyssey for these past twelve months…. and, by the way who is behind all this in the first place. …that really matters,"
the wandering pilgrim thought.
"I need to create a list of those songs ....and maybe even burn a CD of my soundtrack/score to 2012"
Well, the first part of his task was not too complicated as
technology now has the ability to count and record how often a musical piece
was listened to. He appreciated and delighted in all the songs he had heard that
moved him over the course of the year but there were those that stood out from the rest. Also, it was not difficult
to be able to identify the new discoveries of unique surprises that were unplanned
and unexpected and yet seemed to musically fill a void or express what he was
unable to articulate himself. He began to create his list of his soundtrack for
2012. Though he was tempted to keep all the songs that were “favorites” on the
annual soundtrack list it really wasn’t laborious for him to limit this list to
those pieces that mystically played a significant role in the mystery of his
existence in the universe. Somehow the sacrosanct soundtrack list flowed from
pen to paper for his heart knew each song in advance . It was if….
The Wandering Imperfect
Pilgrim’s Soundtrack/Score for 2012
Daughter - Loudon
Wainright
Father and Daughter – Paul Simon
I knew the bride
Dave Edmunds
Circle Game – Joni Mitchell
Urge for Going – Tom Rush version of J. Mitchell
Land of Hopes and Dreams - Bruce
We take care of our own - Bruce
Stay young go dancing
- Death Cab for Cutie
Hopeless Wanderer - Mumford and sons
Persuasion - Richard Thompson
Born to sing – Van Morrison
Days Like this
- Van Morrison
Brown Eyed Girl – Van Morrison
Keep me in your heart – Warren Zevon
A time to say goodbye – performed by Andrea Bocelli
One of these days
- Neil Young and Billy Frissell’s versions
The Promised Land - Bruce
Alone again -
Calexico
Falling slowly
- from the movie "Once"
Better off today – David Arn
Save it for a Rainy Day - Jayhawks
That’s what makes you strong – Jesse Winchester
Show me the place – Leonard Cohen
The Walk – Meyer Hawthorne
Christmas Day – Paul Simon
Fear of fallin
- Robbie Roberston
Whats so funny about Peace,Love and Understanding
- Elvis Costello
Here comes my man -
National Anthem
Something you got - Jerry Douglas w Eric Clapton
Windfall - Son
Volt
Si Tu vois ma mere – from "Midnight in Paris" Soundtrack
When your minds made up - from the movie “Once”
Got to be better in a little while – Eric Clapton
Take it to the people
- Woggles
Soneto de la Noche – performed by Conspirare
All things Must Pass – George Harrison
Louie Louie – The Kingsmen Until I Die - Beach Boys
He wondered about the miracle of different soundtracks for his family and friends. He wondered about the songs he played and sang. And the Beach Boys could be heard singing
off in the tall distance….”Add some music to your day”
I hope your own soundtrack was exactly what
you needed and that the New Year brings you much peace and joy!
And
so it begins all over again .The end of a book. The end of a season . The end
of a year . The end of and era . Yet, nothing never seems to end , you know ,
with each ending there is a beginning.
New
pages, clear and clean readied to be filled.The pen in hand hesitant and yet
ready to script out what is not yet known or experienced. It is not just a new
chapter,it is a new book! A new idea! An original never before thought of
concept! Maybe it is a sequel? Maybe it is part of some undiscovered obscure
trilogy? Maybe it is just another episode already clear in the divine eye but
it just needs to be written by some pilgrim spirit.
Regrets?
Not many. Choices continue to be
discerned. What chord to strum? What song to sing? What book to read? What words to pull down from the
heavens to speak or write never to be erased or forgotten? When to let go and let it be. How to be
present. How to be loving and to be exactly who we are intended to be. Has this
Odyssey been a series of fruitless self-centered adventures with a few
uplifting unplanned blessings?... Or, is this passage a pilgrimage required for all wanderers to gain redemption?
Is
questioning faith, faith?
They
say that the season of Advent is a celebration of “waiting and preparation.” The pilgrim tries to
wait without wondering too much about how the renewed celebration of the birth
of love will rekindle his own fire as he prepares the hearth.
Billy
said, “and so it goes.”
Dorothy
said, “There’s no place like home.”
Saints
John and Paul said, “The love you take is equal to the love you make.”
Pedro
said, “God is love .”
The
pilgrim doesn’t need to look under an ornamented tinseled small multi-colored
lighted Douglas fir to understand what Ignatius meant when he said
In the beginning the word was good and yet the wandering
pilgrim misunderstood. Eventually he was enlightened as to how everything was
getting better all the time. They say Christmas is a time to celebrate the
great gift of love and life. It was eight and twenty years ago this December 25
that the companion who brought life into the world brought home with her
pilgrim partner the great gift. Realizing Jeremiah was a bullfrog they sang in
great - filled celebration
“Joy to the world
All the boys and
girls now
Joy to the fishes
in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me “
Number one’s arrival was also the birth of incalculable
changes and transformations within and without. “I feel fine” in lullaby tempo became the little girl’s
favorite as she was rocked and rolled to sleep. She was always considered a
Jersey Girl even though it would be eleven years before she would see the boss
in person. During that event she never sat and never turned back.
The pilgrim hoped that the turning her to bat lefty and
wearing number nine would somehow be instrumental in some type of success. It
led to her becoming a pen pal of the splendid splinter. Father and daughter made her fist
pilgrimage to the great cathedral in Boston just before he was cracked open
like a lobster at Anthony’s. One plus one did equal two and always will.
Catching a trout on her first cast ever seems like it happened yesterday!
While coaching her on soccer pitches , in the hardwood
gymacafetoriums with hoops and
taking the helm of the Ascent sailing he had hoped that the lessons would apply
to the greater journey. She always played hard and with joy… and grew in wisdom
more than he ever dreamed.
From the beginning of the presence of number two it would be
obvious that the two hawk hill girls would need no inspection or explanation as
to how their bond will never die.
The first one has always made her intentions of love and protection of
and for the second one very clear. That love was and remains reciprocated.
And now that path marked by rapid turning calendars and
seasons has finally come to that fork, the point of separation. The pilgrim is heard complaining in the
night how google maps does not provide advice on how to maneuver changes in the
landscape. The little one who once danced freely from here to there to almost
any song that moved her spirit is now the focused woman respected and loved by
fellow trekkers trying to make their mark. That moment has arrived where she
and her new companion,
“a good choice” , the pilgrim says, “as long as he keeps his
head down and swings slowly and plays with integrity ,”
are about to
join together taking that new path on their own new sacred adventure
together.
So the imperfect pilgrim quietly smiles hopeful that though
he was not present all ways she somehow knows that she was and will always be
in his heart. The advent of the new day conjures a predawn reflection as
attempts are made to be present to the inevitable moment…joyous and peace-filled - he recalls how this was all
anticipated in the song
welcoming her to the world
So the imperfect pilgrim sits in the solemn solitude of
silence watching the fresh new autumnal breeze loosen the orange yellowed red
leaves. Geese honk heading home as portrayed in Whyte’s wedge wings across the heavens burning their freedom
into his own heart. Squirrels scamper this way and that gathering as many of
the now land based acorns before anyone else notices. Voices from past soccer fields to the words of gatherings of
poets in the woods echo in the distance and Packers and sox still reign supreme. The hands of the flawless Swiss made
watch tired from years of exacting rapid constant movement cease their efforts.
Albums of memories fill the mega-chip banks of his weathered hard drive .Though
expected , the new season seemed to arrive without warning.
He wonders if the second one’s launching has been adequately
prepared and provisioned. Has he taught her enough? Has she listened? How could
have he been more effective in his mentoring and modeling? Are the charts for
the course accurate? Will she be confident when the winds shift and tides come
and go? Will she call if she thinks she’s lost? Did she know how much he loved her and how he tried to show
it? Did he become overconfident with the perceived success of the first one’s
departure from the safe harbor?
The free bird
is taking flight as a certified healer commissioned to join Florence and the
Nightingales serving the broken hearts on the beast infested island of fading monuments.
The pilgrim believes that his prayers have always been
answered and is hopeful that they not be ignored now.They are all that are left.
“Please bless, protect, nourish and guide this young woman’s
path and spirit all ways. Help her know the great love and peace around and
within her.”
The nest empty and the carousel continues to move round. He recalls
the museum man once observing, as they toked cohibas looking to the constellations
one clear night on a plantation dock,
“The universe continues to expand. Every second something is
changing. Something is being born.
Something is dying. Nothing
is ever the same. We can’t stop change. We just need to just be and let go.”
So the imperfect pilgrim sits in the solemn solitude of
silence present to a new chapter, humbled and grateful for the undeserved grace
and gifts. His companion hands him another cup and he responds with a small
hope-filled smile
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