Monday, August 15, 2016
Journeyings: The World Go Round
Journeyings: The World Go Round: Jesus must have been foreseeing that we would struggle with, the Truth about God, for a long time. For him to say, I have not come to bring ...
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Ah, Sweet Humanity
Sitting here on the floor of B&N, our fav place, sort of a home away from home, I am faced with a truth that everyone just needs love. I've felt it before, in public spaces. Where anonymity can become an aggregate of existence, that is illusive, even false. To think for one moment that we can be side by side and not somehow be connected is the first lie. The second is worse, that my actions do not affect your mood.
My books, on my lap, I struggle to concentrate for what ever internal reason, and I am commanded by a insistent restlessness. So, I move. To another location that does not really hold any better magic accept to be near different people. People perhaps who are less anxious. I don't know what it is about my antenna that can pick up internal dialogue and I am receiving more static than I am able to distinguish.
And so now, I recall watching, a gentle man, with particularly baggy pants, and a table top full of food bags and drinks, covered with red sweet leftovers. His stance was restless, as was my internal receiver. He had a difficult time balancing and turned to find the seat underneath him. I nearly asked him, out loud, "Can you find the chair?" But, it was low enough and my movements innocuous enough, to go unnoticed. In fact, it seemed the whole outpouring of shakiness passed by any cognizant humans, in our three foot circumference.
He made it down and back up again, and I noticed, to my consternation, wetness on his bottom and instantly I recalled that I'm in a public place. Twice this week, I've seen grown men, incontinent of both bowel and bladder, in public locations. And I can only hold onto, gratitude, for the reminder, we are all human beings. And we need to know that we are loved.
I left my temporary location, with him interacting with two young school girls, not particularly severed, from their kindness. And I was enchanted with just that small amount of contact amidst the general distance of public spheres.
Ah, sweet humanity!
My books, on my lap, I struggle to concentrate for what ever internal reason, and I am commanded by a insistent restlessness. So, I move. To another location that does not really hold any better magic accept to be near different people. People perhaps who are less anxious. I don't know what it is about my antenna that can pick up internal dialogue and I am receiving more static than I am able to distinguish.
And so now, I recall watching, a gentle man, with particularly baggy pants, and a table top full of food bags and drinks, covered with red sweet leftovers. His stance was restless, as was my internal receiver. He had a difficult time balancing and turned to find the seat underneath him. I nearly asked him, out loud, "Can you find the chair?" But, it was low enough and my movements innocuous enough, to go unnoticed. In fact, it seemed the whole outpouring of shakiness passed by any cognizant humans, in our three foot circumference.
He made it down and back up again, and I noticed, to my consternation, wetness on his bottom and instantly I recalled that I'm in a public place. Twice this week, I've seen grown men, incontinent of both bowel and bladder, in public locations. And I can only hold onto, gratitude, for the reminder, we are all human beings. And we need to know that we are loved.
I left my temporary location, with him interacting with two young school girls, not particularly severed, from their kindness. And I was enchanted with just that small amount of contact amidst the general distance of public spheres.
Ah, sweet humanity!
Sunday, August 7, 2016
Bless
Our lives are our own and we must do what we are able to do with them, for the sake of the world. Thank you for the sharing time and listening time. A day of rest!'
May you be blest!
May you be blest!
Saturday, August 6, 2016
Life
A place where fear did not exist and no one was afraid of anything may sound like a dream, but that is what our reading for tomorrow in Luke invites with, "Fear not little flock,". And so, when my husband suggested, that I imagine about a world where no one has fear, I thought, yes, that is a place to imagine and may provide something about which to write.
I bet there would be no need there. Because everyone would share from what they have and they also would not hoard things. People would not save because they would believe that they would be taken care of not only tonight, but also for all the tomorrows there were left. And not only for themselves, but also their children. And Oh, would there be children. Just think of how many children there would be running around. No one would fear loosing their beloveds out of jealousy, because they would trust people would stay together out of the pure choice of their hearts. Because, they wanted to, not out of fear of being alone or fear of being forgotten, but out of pure trust. That all would be taken care of until life ended. Then what? Well then, there would be no fear of what comes afterwards. Perhaps there would be much longer life, as stress would be less. Less high blood pressure, less stress or anxious eating, less drinking and drugging to dull the pain or stop the fear of pain, because all fear is gone.
Geez, this could get good.
And what about the crime that did occur? Would there be any crime? Really? Because if there was no fear then the very thought of something being a crime would not exist. Perhaps even the idea of inequality would disappear. Differences would simply be that, differences. No fear associated with something new and strange, simply different. No fear of someone having more or possible having less. Oh, now that's too simple.
But, wouldn't it be nice.
I bring it up because my husband and I talk about our anxieties, and yes they often revolve around money, or rather the lack of it. However, in our conversations I remembered another experience I had, that related to the readings and my personal relationship, with fear.
I was staying at a retreat house called "Lebh Shomea", in Sarita, Texas, for ten days of silence. It was the Christmas of 1999, a year into my move, to Texas. It's a beautiful eden-like place with fairly simple and also extravagant accommodations. I say extravagant, because they really do engender, silent contemplation. And to me, that is dreamy. In a good way.
IT was, I believe the first night, in the little hacienda named, "Solomon" where my panic sort of started to rise. The fear entailed, an image I had of a man walking through the door of my really rather open aired dwelling. The bed lie with its head toward the window and feet facing the door with the bathroom ahead to the right.
And rise the panic did. I felt tense and scared, not to mention vulnerable. I thought, what is to keep him from doing me in. And as this went on for what seemed like an eternity, I suddenly thought. These are simply my thoughts and they have absolutely no basis, in reality. It was like coming out of a bad dream. The panic settled and I could see what was my fear, my own created fear. And I think it was like a miracle. I really slept well the rest of my times there and stayed on at least 7 more occasions, sometimes alone, sometimes with seminary friends and twice with my spouse, first when we were not married and then when we were married.
Never did the fear return and I think I grew up a little.
Thanks for thinking, with me, of a world without fear. Perhaps, someday, we could make it a reality.
I bet there would be no need there. Because everyone would share from what they have and they also would not hoard things. People would not save because they would believe that they would be taken care of not only tonight, but also for all the tomorrows there were left. And not only for themselves, but also their children. And Oh, would there be children. Just think of how many children there would be running around. No one would fear loosing their beloveds out of jealousy, because they would trust people would stay together out of the pure choice of their hearts. Because, they wanted to, not out of fear of being alone or fear of being forgotten, but out of pure trust. That all would be taken care of until life ended. Then what? Well then, there would be no fear of what comes afterwards. Perhaps there would be much longer life, as stress would be less. Less high blood pressure, less stress or anxious eating, less drinking and drugging to dull the pain or stop the fear of pain, because all fear is gone.
Geez, this could get good.
And what about the crime that did occur? Would there be any crime? Really? Because if there was no fear then the very thought of something being a crime would not exist. Perhaps even the idea of inequality would disappear. Differences would simply be that, differences. No fear associated with something new and strange, simply different. No fear of someone having more or possible having less. Oh, now that's too simple.
But, wouldn't it be nice.
I bring it up because my husband and I talk about our anxieties, and yes they often revolve around money, or rather the lack of it. However, in our conversations I remembered another experience I had, that related to the readings and my personal relationship, with fear.
I was staying at a retreat house called "Lebh Shomea", in Sarita, Texas, for ten days of silence. It was the Christmas of 1999, a year into my move, to Texas. It's a beautiful eden-like place with fairly simple and also extravagant accommodations. I say extravagant, because they really do engender, silent contemplation. And to me, that is dreamy. In a good way.
IT was, I believe the first night, in the little hacienda named, "Solomon" where my panic sort of started to rise. The fear entailed, an image I had of a man walking through the door of my really rather open aired dwelling. The bed lie with its head toward the window and feet facing the door with the bathroom ahead to the right.
And rise the panic did. I felt tense and scared, not to mention vulnerable. I thought, what is to keep him from doing me in. And as this went on for what seemed like an eternity, I suddenly thought. These are simply my thoughts and they have absolutely no basis, in reality. It was like coming out of a bad dream. The panic settled and I could see what was my fear, my own created fear. And I think it was like a miracle. I really slept well the rest of my times there and stayed on at least 7 more occasions, sometimes alone, sometimes with seminary friends and twice with my spouse, first when we were not married and then when we were married.
Never did the fear return and I think I grew up a little.
Thanks for thinking, with me, of a world without fear. Perhaps, someday, we could make it a reality.
Friday, August 5, 2016
Alienation
One often thinks that the end of the earth is somewhere new and desolate; unfamiliar to ones own senses. Perhaps it is simply a reflection of an inner sense of alienation, from ourselves, reflected outward onto a particular place and its people. Perhaps people living there also feel a sense of being different from their neighbors and even family.
I've been to places where my anxiety tends to increase and I feel out of place. Out of my comfort zone and uncertain of where to go if I were to meet danger. It's a primitive feeling that is connected to our so call 'Lizard Brain'. Anxiety is as old as attachment and just as gruesome. Sure it saves us from a hungry lion, but it also shoots someone who is innocent, or at least not deserving of death.
Our capacity to panic is too strong for the reality of our world. We need to dial back our fear and turn up our sense of common humanity.
I remember going to someones house, in East Texas, and learning that the whole family were Texas Ranchers. It did not take long for me to wonder how I would relate, being a Yankee, from Massachusetts. Gifts of Sweet Tea, pickled okra and melons, I tried to fake it through my being impressed. Then one day, recently, I opened my pickled jar of jalepeno's and tried one. It was damn good! My time with the family, though we were different, was impressionable and I feel so grateful to have prayed and spent time with them. I think when I get to Maine, I'll send them a few lobsters, just to say 'Thank you.'
One of the prerequisites to seeking out our shared common humanity is loosing our need to judge the other person. We each have to work on our capacity to listen to each others deeper truth of feelings, hopes, and what makes us happy. And for everyone this is different. It's that ole saying, 'whatever floats your boat.' And then perhaps, one day, we will be a little more gentle with our own inner alien.
I've been to places where my anxiety tends to increase and I feel out of place. Out of my comfort zone and uncertain of where to go if I were to meet danger. It's a primitive feeling that is connected to our so call 'Lizard Brain'. Anxiety is as old as attachment and just as gruesome. Sure it saves us from a hungry lion, but it also shoots someone who is innocent, or at least not deserving of death.
Our capacity to panic is too strong for the reality of our world. We need to dial back our fear and turn up our sense of common humanity.
I remember going to someones house, in East Texas, and learning that the whole family were Texas Ranchers. It did not take long for me to wonder how I would relate, being a Yankee, from Massachusetts. Gifts of Sweet Tea, pickled okra and melons, I tried to fake it through my being impressed. Then one day, recently, I opened my pickled jar of jalepeno's and tried one. It was damn good! My time with the family, though we were different, was impressionable and I feel so grateful to have prayed and spent time with them. I think when I get to Maine, I'll send them a few lobsters, just to say 'Thank you.'
One of the prerequisites to seeking out our shared common humanity is loosing our need to judge the other person. We each have to work on our capacity to listen to each others deeper truth of feelings, hopes, and what makes us happy. And for everyone this is different. It's that ole saying, 'whatever floats your boat.' And then perhaps, one day, we will be a little more gentle with our own inner alien.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Mysteries
In all honesty, this is the first day, I am able to say that I am glad to be moving, to Maine. It simply feels right inside. Like the whole thing shifted and little pieces of struggle have fallen away.
Someone told me today, "Embrace your new life." I accepted it with an open heart. I am aware that the struggle will continue, however my heart is more toward the Northeast. I am ready to move.
What exactly happened I cannot say. Why the shift occurred is a mystery to me, but inside I feel lighter about the decision. And it is a welcomed change.
Immediately, I am centered in the being present with my time here. I am aware of the need to release some folks. Let them find their way, more on their own, if you will. This is all of our journey's. To find our way, our solace, our own hope.
I hope, of course, for a sense, of well being, though it cannot be forced. Well-being is fought for internally, as it is sometimes, also, externally. Letting ourselves have spaces of respite, away from the noise of the world that wants to dictate our thoughts, demanding agreement and sameness.
Impossible, I say. We are not meant to agree. But, to allow. That is another story. We must allow the changes to come, and trust that the changes will carry their own goodness forward.
See you, on the other side.
Someone told me today, "Embrace your new life." I accepted it with an open heart. I am aware that the struggle will continue, however my heart is more toward the Northeast. I am ready to move.
What exactly happened I cannot say. Why the shift occurred is a mystery to me, but inside I feel lighter about the decision. And it is a welcomed change.
Immediately, I am centered in the being present with my time here. I am aware of the need to release some folks. Let them find their way, more on their own, if you will. This is all of our journey's. To find our way, our solace, our own hope.
I hope, of course, for a sense, of well being, though it cannot be forced. Well-being is fought for internally, as it is sometimes, also, externally. Letting ourselves have spaces of respite, away from the noise of the world that wants to dictate our thoughts, demanding agreement and sameness.
Impossible, I say. We are not meant to agree. But, to allow. That is another story. We must allow the changes to come, and trust that the changes will carry their own goodness forward.
See you, on the other side.
Mysteries
In all honesty, this is the first day, I am able to say that I am glad to be moving, to Maine. It simply feels right inside. Like the whole thing shifted and little pieces of struggle have fallen away.
Someone told me today, "Embrace your new life." I accepted it with an open heart. I am aware that the struggle will continue, however my heart is more toward the Northeast. I am ready to move.
What exactly happened I cannot say. Why the shift occurred is a mystery to me, but inside I feel lighter about the decision. And it is a welcomed change.
Immediately, I am centered in the being present with my time here. I am aware of the need to release some folks. Let them find their way, more on their own, if you will. This is all of our journey's. To find our way, our solace, our own hope.
I hope, of course, for a sense, of well being, though it cannot be forced. Well-being is fought for internally, as it is sometimes, also, externally. Letting ourselves have spaces of respite, away from the noise of the world that wants to dictate our thoughts, demanding agreement and sameness.
Impossible, I say. We are not meant to agree. But, to allow. That is another story. We must allow the changes to come, and trust that the changes will carry their own goodness forward.
See you, on the other side.
Someone told me today, "Embrace your new life." I accepted it with an open heart. I am aware that the struggle will continue, however my heart is more toward the Northeast. I am ready to move.
What exactly happened I cannot say. Why the shift occurred is a mystery to me, but inside I feel lighter about the decision. And it is a welcomed change.
Immediately, I am centered in the being present with my time here. I am aware of the need to release some folks. Let them find their way, more on their own, if you will. This is all of our journey's. To find our way, our solace, our own hope.
I hope, of course, for a sense, of well being, though it cannot be forced. Well-being is fought for internally, as it is sometimes, also, externally. Letting ourselves have spaces of respite, away from the noise of the world that wants to dictate our thoughts, demanding agreement and sameness.
Impossible, I say. We are not meant to agree. But, to allow. That is another story. We must allow the changes to come, and trust that the changes will carry their own goodness forward.
See you, on the other side.
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
The Great Giveaway
Half Price 'musak' leaves much to be desired. There is something about selling your books that is just so wrong. I know, I know, most everyone leaves books in the dust and takes up the electronic gathering of metaphors and art collecting. My husband and I are unfortunately of the ilk that love books. The size of them, the weight, match their capacity to smooth out the wrinkles of the day. Books seem to bind up tightly your cumulative wounds where the pages seem like bandages between two covers.
All of which bring me back to the depressing sounds trying to distract my conscious thinking mind from what I am doing.
Alas, my name is called. I'll be right back.
$2.50. There you go. I cannot even purchase a Latte with this change.
I remember the disposal of so many of our books, after leaving Galveston, in 2008, following Hurricane Ike. I thought to myself, at least I'm giving cool books for my lovely island. That time I dumped so much stuff at the Goodwill Store on Seawall Blvd. Just a block away from where we were living. We gave away furniture, clothes, miscellaneous items and lots of books. Things not destroyed by rain or water or mold, like so many others. And now treasures for people who would stay. Or so I hoped.
We felt so very fortunate that our apartment was not flooded, hiding behind the great San Luis Hotel, where the mayor and important officials and media stayed through Ike. Our neighbor who stayed shared that during the eye of the hurricane, which lasted for an hour, there was absolute quiet, and it was vacuum like. No sound, no rain, no wind and a low pressure added to the surreal 2 am atmosphere. The back side, or dirty side of the hurricane came and shifted the whole 12 apartment 2 story building. Thankfully, she graciously shut our French Doors that blew open.
"The fish and eels were swimming at eye level" she relayed what she saw as being in the middle of a hurricane like Ike. The world had turned upside down and we had never experienced anything like that before, even by proxy. So we let go of stuff in one day, packed up our Golden Toyota Tundra and headed to Austin.
In other words, my 2.50 only brings back memories and I am grateful. Grateful for the experiences of change, even change that a hurricane wreaks. Mourning of the Eye, by Pamela Brouker, can be viewed on You Tube. IT was my mourning process. IT simply brought me stories of people who also suffered and survived.
And so we go, let go, and enjoy what we have, love and each other.
All of which bring me back to the depressing sounds trying to distract my conscious thinking mind from what I am doing.
Alas, my name is called. I'll be right back.
$2.50. There you go. I cannot even purchase a Latte with this change.
I remember the disposal of so many of our books, after leaving Galveston, in 2008, following Hurricane Ike. I thought to myself, at least I'm giving cool books for my lovely island. That time I dumped so much stuff at the Goodwill Store on Seawall Blvd. Just a block away from where we were living. We gave away furniture, clothes, miscellaneous items and lots of books. Things not destroyed by rain or water or mold, like so many others. And now treasures for people who would stay. Or so I hoped.
We felt so very fortunate that our apartment was not flooded, hiding behind the great San Luis Hotel, where the mayor and important officials and media stayed through Ike. Our neighbor who stayed shared that during the eye of the hurricane, which lasted for an hour, there was absolute quiet, and it was vacuum like. No sound, no rain, no wind and a low pressure added to the surreal 2 am atmosphere. The back side, or dirty side of the hurricane came and shifted the whole 12 apartment 2 story building. Thankfully, she graciously shut our French Doors that blew open.
"The fish and eels were swimming at eye level" she relayed what she saw as being in the middle of a hurricane like Ike. The world had turned upside down and we had never experienced anything like that before, even by proxy. So we let go of stuff in one day, packed up our Golden Toyota Tundra and headed to Austin.
In other words, my 2.50 only brings back memories and I am grateful. Grateful for the experiences of change, even change that a hurricane wreaks. Mourning of the Eye, by Pamela Brouker, can be viewed on You Tube. IT was my mourning process. IT simply brought me stories of people who also suffered and survived.
And so we go, let go, and enjoy what we have, love and each other.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Journeyings: Futility
Journeyings: Futility: The choosing what to bring, in the Subaru, is less a decision process that I'm making and more about the magnetic power, of the things, ...
Futility
The choosing what to bring, in the Subaru, is less a decision process that I'm making and more about the magnetic power, of the things, themselves. When I'm away from the objects they really have little power. IT is when I am about to throw them away, drive them to Goodwill (my lil bit o heaven) or send them through the mail that they begin to speak to me, cry, or tear at my mind. As if I am somehow defined by the objects.
Some of the more difficult ones to think about or discern their golden place, inside the Vehicle of Wind, take my emotional life, into their being. I'm talking about journals that I've written and I've kept since, oh 1977, and beyond. Others, play on my guilt and conscience, having to do with paper objects containing words of wisdom from Biblical Literary Critique and the historical context of the Prophets; et al.
My history professor, Mulholland, from Berkshire Community College, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, comes to mind. His Roman nose and antique hands, whipped up images of the Mediterranean Sea, The Tigris and Euphrates River and places in Between that are pinned up in my memory, just as they were on that flimsy chalk board.
In one of my more down days, last week, I entered a house where their pastor was already ministering. And I took the opportunity for further guidance. She told me, something to the effect; "In the name of the Lord, you're released." and she encouraged release of all seminary materials. In my tears, I thanked her, but at home, I'm still holding back.
This leads me to the title of the blog, taken after Ecclesiastes, written by dear old Kohelet, traditionally held in Judaism to be none other than King Solomon, Son of David, and King of Israel. In the old age, of the rich King, full of cynicism and doubt, he wrote the words of the Book of Ecclesiastes. Famously, we recognize now, as a pop icon, with the 60's song we hold so dear,
"For everything there is a Season and a Time for Every purpose under Heaven." And we think there is wisdom within. A kind of nuanced balance that comes in handy when things change unexpectedly or a loss is experienced. That yes, even this, is under Heaven.
Some think Kohelet must have been mad to write something like, vapor all is vapor, or if you like, futile all is futile; that all your toil will one day end so get a grip of your madness and the madness of the world and take the long view; enjoy what you are able to enjoy. In the author's doubt and blindness, he brings us to the emptiness of life, sorrow of the bad and the good getting no different treatments and us having such a difficult time discerning actually who we are facing. And finally, as we face death, of our own, or of a kind and gentle police officer, such as Stg. Craig Hutchinson, aka "Hutchy", we ponder what will all his goodness come to and how will we carry on when such a good man dies? Who will carry on, with such depth, his torch? And perhaps this is the purpose; that in the midst of the madness, we must choose, the good, to carry on.
And I continue to take the nuggets, though undoubtably, against the grain of most, to repeatedly ponder,
As a woman comes out of her mothers womb, so she must depart at last, naked as she came. She can take nothing of her wealth, to carry out with her. So what is the good of her toiling for the wind? Ecclesiastes 3:14-15.
And I ask, still, shall I let it go?
Some of the more difficult ones to think about or discern their golden place, inside the Vehicle of Wind, take my emotional life, into their being. I'm talking about journals that I've written and I've kept since, oh 1977, and beyond. Others, play on my guilt and conscience, having to do with paper objects containing words of wisdom from Biblical Literary Critique and the historical context of the Prophets; et al.
My history professor, Mulholland, from Berkshire Community College, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, comes to mind. His Roman nose and antique hands, whipped up images of the Mediterranean Sea, The Tigris and Euphrates River and places in Between that are pinned up in my memory, just as they were on that flimsy chalk board.
In one of my more down days, last week, I entered a house where their pastor was already ministering. And I took the opportunity for further guidance. She told me, something to the effect; "In the name of the Lord, you're released." and she encouraged release of all seminary materials. In my tears, I thanked her, but at home, I'm still holding back.
This leads me to the title of the blog, taken after Ecclesiastes, written by dear old Kohelet, traditionally held in Judaism to be none other than King Solomon, Son of David, and King of Israel. In the old age, of the rich King, full of cynicism and doubt, he wrote the words of the Book of Ecclesiastes. Famously, we recognize now, as a pop icon, with the 60's song we hold so dear,
"For everything there is a Season and a Time for Every purpose under Heaven." And we think there is wisdom within. A kind of nuanced balance that comes in handy when things change unexpectedly or a loss is experienced. That yes, even this, is under Heaven.
Some think Kohelet must have been mad to write something like, vapor all is vapor, or if you like, futile all is futile; that all your toil will one day end so get a grip of your madness and the madness of the world and take the long view; enjoy what you are able to enjoy. In the author's doubt and blindness, he brings us to the emptiness of life, sorrow of the bad and the good getting no different treatments and us having such a difficult time discerning actually who we are facing. And finally, as we face death, of our own, or of a kind and gentle police officer, such as Stg. Craig Hutchinson, aka "Hutchy", we ponder what will all his goodness come to and how will we carry on when such a good man dies? Who will carry on, with such depth, his torch? And perhaps this is the purpose; that in the midst of the madness, we must choose, the good, to carry on.
And I continue to take the nuggets, though undoubtably, against the grain of most, to repeatedly ponder,
As a woman comes out of her mothers womb, so she must depart at last, naked as she came. She can take nothing of her wealth, to carry out with her. So what is the good of her toiling for the wind? Ecclesiastes 3:14-15.
And I ask, still, shall I let it go?
Monday, August 1, 2016
The Journey
There are some journeys that are inner and some that are outer. In life, we tackle both, sometimes by necessity and sometimes, by choice. The inner journey explores who we are and the outer journey explores the world around us, that exists. Both go through many changes and both are a mystery. In other words, there are neither limits to the inner journey nor to the outer journey. And when you are on one, you tend to also be on another, or at least they impact and influence each other. The outer journey and the inner journey tend to push each other past previous horizons. Which is why it is a risk and also the only truth; change.
I've been on both and very soon will be on a more significant outer journey. After 17 years stationed in Tejas, I will be relocating to Maine and not I alone, but my spouse Bear will be joining me on this outer journey.
We leave 30 days from today to relocate to the Portland, Maine area, where our parents and sister reside in nearby York, Maine. We will make a stop in the Chicago area to visit with Bears adult children, grandchildren, ex-wife and her new spouse, Steve. And yes, we will stay with them.
The reason for this journey is complex (aren't they all), but it has something to do with our deep need for change. I know life is changing around us. Nothing in the world keeps this reality from us, from continued ISIS attacks in Europe and individuals influenced by the terrorists idealogy to the current 2016 Presidential Election. It just seems the whole world is teetering on unzipping itself.
My personal decision to say "Yes" to this particular choice revolves around a need to be near our folks. Honestly, with both Bears parents passed and my parents, in their 80's, time becomes a bit crystalized. And I realize that the journey's I've made, to this point, have been connected to my folks. The choices of careers from childcare, to adult care, and then Special Education care, finalizing in pastoral care, each have their inception, in the gifts, I find intrinsic. My mother's ability to compromise and find the best in anything to my father's notions of justice with special interest in the downtrodden and compassion, hard won by his years of personal struggle.
And so I commit, with my new MacBook Air, to blog daily till we get there. Join me on our Journeyings!
I've been on both and very soon will be on a more significant outer journey. After 17 years stationed in Tejas, I will be relocating to Maine and not I alone, but my spouse Bear will be joining me on this outer journey.
We leave 30 days from today to relocate to the Portland, Maine area, where our parents and sister reside in nearby York, Maine. We will make a stop in the Chicago area to visit with Bears adult children, grandchildren, ex-wife and her new spouse, Steve. And yes, we will stay with them.
The reason for this journey is complex (aren't they all), but it has something to do with our deep need for change. I know life is changing around us. Nothing in the world keeps this reality from us, from continued ISIS attacks in Europe and individuals influenced by the terrorists idealogy to the current 2016 Presidential Election. It just seems the whole world is teetering on unzipping itself.
My personal decision to say "Yes" to this particular choice revolves around a need to be near our folks. Honestly, with both Bears parents passed and my parents, in their 80's, time becomes a bit crystalized. And I realize that the journey's I've made, to this point, have been connected to my folks. The choices of careers from childcare, to adult care, and then Special Education care, finalizing in pastoral care, each have their inception, in the gifts, I find intrinsic. My mother's ability to compromise and find the best in anything to my father's notions of justice with special interest in the downtrodden and compassion, hard won by his years of personal struggle.
And so I commit, with my new MacBook Air, to blog daily till we get there. Join me on our Journeyings!
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