The little empire that could...

This ~ from an article about a medical center being bombed, but the police station across the street was protected by concrete barriers!

[In Kufa, al-Sadr supporters carried banners, including one that said: "We won't accept Iraq being an American colony!" Another said: "The suspicious agreement means the permanent occupation of Iraq."]

Maybe we’ve forgotten our own history, or have we ever heard it? America fought hard to secure her freedom from being a colony from England. We continue to make our ‘ancestors’ mis-takes?! When will we be done “taking people” from their environments or blowing them up where they stand?

What does the government want that overrides the wishes of another sovereign country? And what rule justified the Germans of yesteryear and don’t we get tired of hearing that tale? And yet here we are at crossroad, possibly in the crosshairs of somebody else who can eat us for breakfast.

Nothing to take away from the World Trade Center fiasco, but that was supposed to be a “message” according to the admin. Remember? They had fifty warnings and still let it happen.

So what do you want for breakfast? Do you like sushi? Or maybe a bit of the old world charms cuisine? You need to think this through some more. We’ve practically stocked the entire world with enough weapons to blow us up! Wait for it. What’s that you hear? That is a pre-emptive strike that we think is ‘our policy only’: do we have sole rights? Who knows; maybe that’s the end-intention of the ‘admin that is.’ Secret agreements: wait until you hear about the new embassy in Iran?

We are finally as ignorant as we are arrogant.

If you disagree it won’t be the first time. Think Hiroshima. Japan agreed to peace but we bombed them two days later anyway. Where are we now? We’re making deals with one of the ‘axis of evil.’ Yesterday is such a fleeting moment… the war on terrorism must go on even if we have to cut a deal with an evil neighbor.

If Only You'd See

I’ll not charge for pleasure
I give you much treasure
More than you’d measure
If only you’d see

My heart in the right place
The head is a bit spaced
The love for this human race
If only you’d see

The stars bid me home
Don’t stay here alone
And hear yourself moan
If only you’d see

I’ll not be a lover
There’s no need to hover
Why run for the cover
If only you’d see

It was a dark and lonely night...

It was a dark and lonely night, not unlike any other except I bought a bag of cheetos to munch on and distract me as I walked home in the dark and lonely night.

Off in the distance the sound of an animal growling and scratching against something that sounded like wood; ah, Scruffy, the giant poodle was still awake and sensed my approach to his master’s humble abode.

The sky was so, so, so gosh darn scary looking and it didn’t help that I stepped into a hole and was now staring up into the trees. Snarling, tree limbs… no that was Scruffy snarling; I really needed to get my cheetos home. I was grateful he was in for the night as he would have chased me for those yummy cheetos. He also likes the crunch.

The wind crossed my neck and the hairs stood up. No, really there were a couple of rabbits on the sidewalk and they stood as I passed by. I disarmed them by tossing a few cheetos. With those teeth there was some serious crunching going on.

Ah I finally arrived at my building, my humble dwelling on the fourth floor, but there were no lights on. Hmm, had the power gone off? Had Mrs. Farley forgotten to pay the bill again? Of course the elevator would be out too. I started up the stairwell and suddenly a scream: “SURPRISE!”

As fourteen flashlights blinded me I tossed cheetos everywhere. The poor dear from second floor replied: “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring snacks?” Almost every one in the building was in the stairwell waiting for Mr. Heely to arrive and celebrate his 63rd birthday.

I hacked up the mouth of cheetos that threatened to choke me and said, “Friends, his birthday is Tuesday and if you surprise him the way you surprised me, it will be his last one!”

(Next Tuesday? Next? Tuesday next? Next Tuesday… that’s in two days.)

It was a dark and lonely night, not unlike any other except I bought a bag of cheetos to munch on…

Restoration~updated version

Their power lay before them in land they walked alone
The gracious G-d would see their plight and lead them back to home.

History will bear them out and to the kingdom due
The people without number will closely follow through.

Musicians play their psalms, while shofars bid them come
The children dance, the peace is felt, and shared with everyone.

The land is many colors; it waits the one last change
The heavens open brightly and life is all arranged.

For G-d who has sustained is waiting in this place
And we are there to praise His care and know His loving face.

The Glory Stair

I want the sun on my face
And feel the power of grace
I want to share this place
With those who care

I want to open the skies
Erase the sighs
Let love give rise
To those who dare

I long to write anew
Mis-takes be few
And take another view
Of my own fare

To have more light and learn
The meaning of discern
And may the humble climb
The glory stair

The Graveled Path

I came in spring to look around
The birds were making lovely sound
Summer bade me linger
By autumn’s end I hit the ground

The graveled path in all light gray
Provided sight to see a way
Without much light
I chose to play

The wind would sweep and off I’d go
While people bundled up for snow
As time was going fast
And never more to know

A child stooped down to have a look
Then placed me in a memory book
I’m very old and yet
Glad to be the one she took.

Do You Care?

Do you care
I have fresh air
Water’s clean
A place to preen

Food not sprayed
With all that stuff
A nest displayed
Constructed rough

Do you care
There’s no more eggs
So I can’t feed
The mouth that begs

Do you care
About your own
Would you dare
Deny them home

Entering In

Periodically I go through the paces of reflection and growth. I take the time to read back over the monthly journal I keep, housed in the smallest wire notebook I can find. Little notations from blogs I read, quotes, and items of research and interest fill its pages. Is this the month I’ll find myself worthy of standing before the Creator’s gate, thinking of entering in?

Phone calls from family and friends, and what I’m supposed to be celebrating during the month, occasionally dominate a few pages: “what birthday party? Was I supposed to be there?” (See page 28.) Who needs assistance with groceries? How many pairs of pants will get the kid back to school? Returned calls and follow-ups get a big red check-mark! But does my charity count for something or am I being arrogant to think that giving is the way to open the gate for entering in?

Most days are a toss up as I computer-dive or catch documentaries on subjects that peak my interest. I love to cook and often take two-four hours of prep time to ensure some fresh stuff gets consumed. Tuesday mornings are strictly reserved for viewing art shows; capturing techniques that assist my own sling of acrylics. Wednesday is “Godmother Day” and I look forward to visiting with the 84 year old mentor who thinks I “hung the moon.” (Please don’t tell her otherwise.) But are those interests aiding my goal of approaching that wondrous gate and entering in?

It is a profound experience to enter my “prayer closet” and lay down the people, places and things I would, but can not control. My list at times goes on and on, as I try to earnestly remember who needs what? (It’s hard to read that small notebook in a dark closet.) My committing things to memory often fails and I conclude that maybe I wasn’t supposed to ask something regarding a people, place or thing I’ve forgotten. As always I find myself in a small heap remembering that I am supposed to be there to listen, as the Creator knows what I have need of before I go in the closet. Yet in all of my repenting and praying for a world that hungers, do I accumulate faith that grants me passage through the gate and entering in?

Years ago I found some scripture from the KJV 1611 that sums up what I believe.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all your ways and He will direct your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6

Many years have passed and as I stand before that gate, time and time again, I am prompted by my mind to force my entering in. The words from Proverbs said I should use my heart to trust, acknowledge the one who knows my turn, and let Him direct my movement. I reflected on the reasoning, purchased three new notebooks, and wait on the omnipotent plan for arriving at the “right” time and entering in.

The Beloved

A tiny statue holds a tiny bird
Who used to speak and he was heard
Immortalized in grey-white stone
He flew away and left my home

I bid goodbye, revisit pain
And long to hear his song again
But I am sad without his tune
And will some day regard his room

Another bird might take his place
To give new song, poetic grace
So I will look to find the one
That gives me warmth, returning fun

Time will move as I research
A feathered love to end my search
The hunt involves the life I live
To help me know what I can give

~the new beloved

A Healing is Forthcoming

A healing is forthcoming if repentance is our goal
We ask our higher power what things will harm our soul;
And He is just and merciful to guide us toward His land
Where everyone is conscious of the love He shares with man.

But His ways are not our ways as we stumble to succeed
To bring about our own ideas of what each country needs
He asks us to consult with Him before we make our trek
But we are much too stubborn and refuse His guidance yet.

How long will we travail and not produce the peace we seek?
Each country offers up their thoughts; some filled with hungry greed.
Catastrophe it seems must always happen first
We find ourselves surrounded by our deeds that cause the worst.

So if you want to know His ways and what His thoughts have wrought
Then listen for His voice and become one who is taught.
Upon the things that you would change and things you would replace.
A healing is forthcoming when we seek His bless-ed face.

An enticement to write

“I speak when I cease to be at peace with my thoughts.” Kahlil Gibran

For the longest time Gibran’s words were my mantra and I increasingly seemed to ‘speak’ all the time; I could no longer shut up. My thoughts filled volumes of air space. Some friends and family who had never given attention to their own thoughts gave mine even less. Alas there were few left who understood my ‘need’ for expression; as if I were a balloon and would pop if not gently deflated. Until one day it was suggested that I ‘blog”… put all of my thoughts to flight.

I don’t remember what took me to Zimbio; a portal featuring magazines that individual members creat. Pick a subject and write. So I made a “wikizine’ as they are called and wrote from art to politics. “Remove the Rose Colored Glasses” asked everyone to ‘couple’ with my thoughts and together create something new: an effort at synergy. What I found was that most members dealt with specific subjects while I was allover the spectrum of life. I began to look around for something a bit more enticing until it found me.

It had been so very long since I had written anything other than children’s stories. Today I’m not convinced that I impact anyone, but remain content to have my words grace a few pages. There is a ‘freeing’ for me to see my thoughts, read my thoughts, and give them wings to fly. My hope: I needed them to leave me, allowing more mental space to continue exploring the world around; more emotional space to explore what others’ feel; and more physical freedom to explore thoughts that I once thought too taboo to dare mention. Why? Because I had everything balled up inside of me and this enticement to write became a gift.

Like a new creature living in a far-away cave I only played with leaving my space for years. My space that I was sure was comfortable, yet had it been comfortable I would not be here today. Comfort did not entice me to write. Disappointment in the cave came often and I longed to breach its boundaries; move or be moved. From somewhere beyond my sight a light shone and came to rest within my view. My inexperience with writing and exploring cautioned me while my “National Geographic’s” self pleaded to let others share their world with me. Maybe they too were no longer at peace with their thoughts. I wanted to hear. Their lives were the enticement I needed. Slowly and surely I moved toward the cave’s opening and looked at the majestic ocean that lay before me: its only one wave at a time, one enticement to write. I took a deep breath and swam out to meet the day.

In the quiet of the night

In the quiet of the night, I can contemplate the most marvelous things or the most pitiful sorrows. I can make them as big or as small as I choose. With only the low hum of my fan, I sit here and type away. Sometimes I wish I could type away the misery of my own and other people's lives; yet I cannot. It is then that I feel so small. And I type and I type.

In the course of my typing along comes a moment of faith and I am renewed. To the cruelest of people I'd like to say, "keep typing, you're not there yet." To the happiest of people I'd like to say, "Keep sending out what you've typed and encourage us to continue in understanding joy and love."

In the quiet of the night I can type chapter after chapter of my life, or of others that may never be read save by me? There are chapters that I've written that never a tear was shed until I reread them. It's also possible that not a tear was shed when an actual event occurred. It is only through the growth of my spirit that I am able to look in hindsight and weep in sorrow or in joy. This is good. This means I'm moving along, while at the same time, I can stand still and feel what I didn't or couldn't before. I find it further astounding that I can take those combined experiences and apply them appropriately to whatever is going on today. I can know when I'm sad. I can know when I'm joyful. I can know when someone else feels those same feelings. I can offer a shoulder, a smile, or both. Yet when the pain of too much sorrow or too much joy would overwhelm me I move to the quiet of the night and I type.

Type, as much as I do, I will not understand those people who love evil; not that they do evil, but that they love it. I can type about what they do. I can type about the attitudes, the facial expressions, the body language, and the heart sickening words. Within my being come the words my Mom used to say, though she wasn't the author, "There, but by the grace of God, go I." How fortunate, yea, how blessed I really am, that I do not love evil. God prevent me from that tragedy. I would not judge them, but I would not want to be them.... those who love evil. I have a difficult time praying for their change when I see no change ever occurring. Year after year I worry that those who love evil will realize too late what they have passed up. So into the night I go and type and I thank the Eternal that if they only exist to show me what not to want, then, it is well. I type, "I am made of dust.... and just as quickly as 'they' can be swept out, so can I."

When tears are shared and mingle together with someone who loves you they offer comfort. So when all of those tears are puddling at your shoes, know that you can step into a dry spot..... And I'll step with you.

The One That Got Away

Prologue

Not all trips are pleasant ones. Some merely exist to teach us a lesson. A lesson about ourselves: what we've been, what we are, or what we might become. Let us not look lightly at the negative behavior we're ever exposed to, lest we become the same in thought and deed.

The One That Got Away

I caught a fish, a very large fish, and fought my better judgment to let it go. It was my trophy, I had to display it, photograph it and show all of my friends that I was the best of the best of fishermen. My ego blindingly held myself, as well as the fish, captive. My overzealous need for "just one more person" to recognize my superiority caused great delay in the preservation of the fish; alas! It was inedible. The bodily damage was such that it could not even be mounted to be observed for all time. The wall in my living room would remain bare.

What was found was painfully ruined, as I contemplated the one that got away. How was it that the joy of the catch did not stay with me? Within my mind I recalled the moment of bringing that mighty one to the surface and how proud I had been. I was the best and here was my proof. How was it that I did not see, that as the fish began to disintegrate, so had my trip? My joy for one had caused me to ignore any joy for anything or anyone else. When the one that got away, went away, there was no experience left to fill the void. I had alienated all others, deeming them unworthy of my attention.

I sat alone and pondered what I might have done differently. Better yet, I sought a new direction for the next trip. I would leave behind all cumbersome things and ones that would divide the mighty fisherman's attention. I would have my complete joy in the catch, and a large cooler to preserve my new slave. Nothing and no one would hinder my expectations.

Epilogue

Not all trips are pleasant ones. Out of the darkness a line is dropped into the water of our soul. Some come with hooks that are attached to things we'd be wise to avoid. What we've been, what we are, or what we may become, depends largely on what we yield ourselves to accepting. Let us not think lightly on the times when we're allowed to be the one that got away.

What brings you home?

What brings you home? What compels you to stop your daily rush and seek rest? Do you believe in taking time out to rejuvenate the body and mind? Or do you just run on and on until exhaustion catches up with you and bids you put down your head? What brings you home?

The KJV1611 version says that man IS a soul… not that man HAS a soul; big difference. So those commercials of tropical or mountainous vacations offering tranquility for you: mind, body, and soul are a bit understated now. So it’s just as important that you take the opportunity of resting from daily grind and feed your soul; your entire essence.

What path leads you to discover that charity is the best gift you can give to your self. Yes, sharing what you have with others brings a wealth of treasure into your heart. Oh, but how often do I hear: “I don’t have anything to share?” Don’t you? Or do you allow your fear of not having enough discourage you from giving?

Is there a light in your life that keeps you from judging what the other guy thinks is important? If you disagree with the way he lives do you pray for him anyway? Or is prayer something you only turn to when things are tough? Or is prayer a bunch of hooey and you’d rather think that you control the universe? What light are you following?

I don’t have the answers you seek because they are yours to seek. I can stand by and tell you what I found, but unless you are open to what I have to share, it is futile to proceed. Indeed you will come, only, when you’re dissatisfied with your own answers. Until then I am another person in the world who is here… simply here. I am always looking just like you for things to make my life better; things I can use to help other people make their life better. And when we all live with each other in mind…the light that brings us home will truly lead us home.

Asian Lover

An Asian land in smoky mist
My open hand becomes a fist
I am powerless to dare resist
All thy beauty I would list

I give control to every place
My loftiness shows on my face
Oh Asian charm from thee is grace
Your maple leaves resemble lace

Yet you would leave me all alone
And there’s no one to call my own
I sought to make your land my home
But left to venture and to roam

An Asian land in smoky mist
Regard the hand that makes this fist
Return the love at twilight’s tryst
Renew the vow I can’t resist

Feeling Small Yet?

With all the borrowing that the government has been doing, who owns us? Really, think about it. If we defaulted on the loans we’ve received, who would could come in and start claiming property? Which country holds more of our debt? Are you feeling small yet?

New laws have been passed that would appear to keep us safe from outside forces; foreign intelligence is laughing. The new laws could just as easily put the citizens of this country into jail cells, while the foreigners come in and purchase the home you no longer own. Are you feeling small yet?

Okay, who are the foreigners? From the top of my head I’d say they are people who have not chosen to become American citizens. What about dual citizenship; belonging to two countries? I think that is one of the most unfair practices we’ve ever allowed here; surely the favorite country will have its best interest looked at first and America is last. Why must America be last? Are you feeling small yet?

Countries all over the world supposedly envy us. Maybe they’re paying bigger taxes than I am. I am taxed on everything and that is not freedom, but a misconception of “paying for what you want.” Make no mistake there are things I want no part of and yet I still have to fork over the tax because I’m not free to say “no”.

Sometimes I think that Britain and the elite of Europe shipped all the rejects here and then proceeded to indoctrinate us on “being a great country.” Of course it went to my head and I’m thinking: “hey, I’m really in the best country in the world.” But then they have to control your government by making all of these laws that squeeze you out of participation. They bring in the Federal Reserve which does not answer to this country since it is privately owned; they can pretty much do as they like. Oh the Feds are a bit unhappy right now because their lies have come home to roost and we must finally play and pay catch up as the economy hands us the bills for their indiscretions. Are you feeling small yet? I am.

Precious Pandas

In this world we need to remember that all creatures have rights. Personally I have a dislike for people who hunt animals for pure sport. I mean take up baseball for Pete's sake and leave the animals alone.

But the hunters have now forced the hands of zoo keepers to try and save a species before the hunters wipe them out. After living in the wild who wants to live in a zoo?

I often wonder what these hunters would do if we developed a zoo for them? Make them endangered and ship them off to a land they've never seen or been to...huh? Too bad they can't have a taste of their own medicine, so to speak. Let's give "law of the jungle" a tweak. Please respect all life.

We'll always remember Bill

Bill was fourteen years old and his owners were giving him up because they had two very small children; Bill rarely got their attention any more. He lived in a small laundry room and learned to how to say, "Leave the light on," because he hated to be by himself in there, in the dark. The owners claimed he learned the sentence from the girls. Just the same, once he came to live with us, we never let him be in the dark by himself.

Caring for Bill was like taking care of 2-3 year old. He was smart but had really suffered from less human companionship over the last few years. The first thing we did was open his cage, which we called, "Bill's house." We wanted him to be able to move around freely as our other two birds did. It took us over two weeks to coax him into coming out. In the end we had to bait him with sunflower seeds, which he dearly loved. He'd follow you anywhere for a sunflower seed.

Around nineteen years old he really began to have difficulty moving about. Trips to the bird doctor were not encouraging. In fact the doc was really surprised that Bill had lived so long, and told us to prepare ourselves for Bill's final leaving. A month before he turned twenty years old, Bill passed on to that big sky above, or that's the way we like to think. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hoped he would be flying in the heavens, though we never clipped his wings, he never knew he could fly. The last word he learned was "sweet" from one of our niece's the weekend before his passing on Monday. So like Bill to get the best out of the weekend even if it was his last! He was sweet! We'll always remember Bill.

The Elections are Coming

I've been practicing my Die bold skills! Yep, need to be ready to pull the lever for the candidate I want and head out the door.

It's not easy knowing so little about the candidates. I mean, really, I know so little; their voting record says one thing at times when they are speaking something else. Oh well, isn't that just like life in the good old USA?! Do we ever really mean what we say?

Ha; this time I'm trying to learn everything but most importantly, "what can I do to make my country a better place?" There will lots of other names to vote in or out... this could take more time than I planned. A quick run to the store for more cheese ought to get me through the next four months. Four Months!! Think about it; in four months somebody will be telling us something new. Unless we have a boo-boo catastrophe and the white house stays the same. Help!

Just the same, please make the time to look at the people you want to represent you in this country. Are you happy with the congress? Are you happy with the house of representatives? Look to see who'll be voted on at the same time that the presidential vote takes place. Until then, grab a helmit and come on over. Me: 1 Die bold : 2

I need His peace

Often what I hear is "location, location, location," and I suppose you need to know what your location is for: business, living, recreation, but I am looking for that perfect spot for reflection.

Each of us would benefit with time away from the "busy-ness" of the world to reflect on how we are doing. If you have a higher power, this could be a great place to "meet" the power and discuss the things you need to just "be".

The thing that I like about this photo is the ocean and the always calm feeling when I'm there. I hear the roar of the waves and know they are bigger than me, and yet they continue to come into shore and often lull me to peace. Is there anything in the business world that can lull me to peace? Absolutely not... and why is that?

In the world I have to always stand guard over my rights, over my property, over the thinking that keeps me headed in my path. It's a major discernment of which voice do I listen to. I have to practice acceptance of rules, regulations, and man-made laws that "tell me they're good for me," or else they'll take my life and throw it in a jail cell. Within the world there are many countries and even more rules; can anyone stop the spinning of the world and let me get off?

So lest the world try to lull me into a sense of peace I look for a place to meet my higher power and listen to His voice. Only His strength will help me remain calm in the day's trouble. Only His vision is accurate and tells me what I'm really seeing. Only His arms comfort me when I feel lost among the many locations, locations, locations of turmoil. And His grace lulls me when the day is done and I need peace... His peace.