SILENCE AND THE RESURRECTION

Silently watching your adult child make a decision which changes

their life and yours.  Knowing that this decision is for their

good and probably the good of human kind. But it causes

searing pain within.

 

 For example, your son decides to become a monastic monk.

He will live a contemplative life away from you, forever.

 

 Is this action a result of your parenting? Why did he/she listen to

God’s calling?   The daughter moves away? The son becomes an

explorer in a secluded part of the Amazon?  How do you react?

 

Some of us immerse in our careers. Others overwhelm ourselves

in social clubs to utilize  time.   Still others become veritable hermits.

Reading, writing,  painting, in the comfort and seclusion of a private den.

These actions are what we observe  of  others from an external point of view.

Deep inside the caverns of the souls, however, the lyric songs of life

discontinue their symphonic melodies. The conductor steps down

from the podium.

All is silence in the soul.

 

As Mary silently watched her son being dragged to Golgotha, so too we

face the vicissitudes of life. Knowing that others’ choices are their

decisions made for their good and hopefully the good of others. We

cannot change the course of the river of their life.

 We face these truths alone. Yes, alone.

For Mary, the Grand Conductor collects his baton on Easter morning.

 Music is reborn. 

We may make the decision to carry our cross, in silence, to our grave.  So many end this

 life’s journey with a calmness, an outward sign of peace that we know the music has again

 begun playing for them.

The promise of resurrection has been fulfilled. 

What if we choose to internalize the power of grieving silence, accept the healing

 of the resurrection while we are still present here on earth?  Accepting the decisions of our children

and others whom we love rather than grieving for our selves. Yes, grieving for ourselves.

 

Turning this energy associated with self pity and misunderstanding into a positive use

of our talents. Looking outward, in marvelous silence, we hear the melodious sounds of the

classics as they cheer us to give of our greater gifts.

 

 

 

 

THE GIFT OF A WINTER STORM

THE GIFT OF A WINTER STORM
Password needed? How secretive we have become.
I Pad, I Phone, Blackberry, the list goes on.
Skype, Messenger, videoconferencing, innumerable ways of communicating.
Drones are watching over us, around us, everywhere.
Technology is amazing. as was the discovery of how to make fire..
How far humankind has progressed.
The Long Island Expressway is a morass of inactivity.
Cars strewn helplessly like so many erratic lego blocks.
Experts on the weather channel predict lots of snow.
The forecasters postulate for days on end.
Our 4 wheel drive turbocharged vans are designed(?) to carry
us over mountains and through rough terrain ( isn’t that what
the ads say)? So much for truth in advertising.
Days later and man made snow plows continue the struggle
to reclaim highways from Mother Nature.
Irony? Techno marvels like drones can take detailed pictures
Of our wonderful earth, but we are powerless
to slow down the impact of winter storms.
Helpless.. we sit and wait and wait and wait.
Enduring the latest meteorlogical challenge.
The TV screen is a solid black while the roaring fireplace keeps
us warm and protected: hopefully electricity returns soon.
Here’s an opportunity to contemplate without man made
interference. If we listen, really listen, the Spirit talks to us
in the swirling sounds of wintertime gales when snow lashes against
the walls of humble homes. Yes, HE is in our midst, listening to our
prayers, and thoughts, and holding us close during these scary times.
We are given a chance to avoid mindless tv cooking shows, soap operas, “reality shows”.
Alternatively we can take the time to ferret the truth set forth in the gospels
and the reflections of our elders.
Let’s engage the pause button on our usual frenetic pace and enjoy the sound of
water laden snow piling up against the front door.
An overstuffed chair, roaring fire, perhaps a cup of Irish coffee, all combine
to create an inviting stage for us to reflect, seek insight, and ultimately share with
others the peace and introspection given to us by the Gospels and learned elders
who have gone before. Silence is a gift from the Lord wherein we can listen, reflect,
hear, and put into action that which is really important to our spiritual health.
These wintry interruptions of our daily routines are a gift to be enjoyed.
.

WORLD CLASS SILENCE

The humanness of animals or is it the

animalism in humans?

Humans have a soul – a deference for right and wrong.

Animals are instinctive, sly, honed for survival.

Evolution has sharpened the differences – or magnified

the similarities?

Silence – does it exist in our two environments?

Groups of “social trekkers” who crash through woodlots on their Sunday

afternoon walks frequently  talk loudly, laugh incessantly, and are

generally noisy intruders. There is an OBVIOUS lack of  appreciation of

being present in the secluded home of feathered and furry out of doors

residents. Noisy, always noisy, these aliens to nature’s realm are devoid of an

appreciation of the benefits to man and beast associated with  silence.

Oh yes, there is cacophony in the  animal world: rutting season, migrational

passages, the horrific life and death battles taking place daily between

hunter and stalked.   These outcries blend into the larger fabric of life on the

plains. 

Just the right note is sounded, the opera of life is exactly on key.

The absence of dissonance is remarkable.

Which returns us  to silence.

Listen intently in the oak stand on a   mountain side venue in which every

 sound, each noise is part of an Integrated symphony… composed, conducted,

 and played by the instruments of nature, may indeed

be an orchestra of silence.  The music of nature is at such a perfect pitch, so

soothing, that  our capacity to hear/interpret/comprehend  is stretched to the

 limit.

 The creator’s way of protecting and celebrating the deity’s own.

A view from a differing side of the oracle’s temple ­ which differs from the

common understanding –nature’s symphony is a complement to our senses. It

 soothes as does the vaporization of sound we call silence.

Silence – with a twist, a variation on the theme: given to us as a gift by the

Great I Am.

WORDS OF SILENCE EXIST FOREVER

 

 

Two sets of adult footprints follow the shore line.

Headed west , stride by stride.

A symphony as of one.

Their parade heads into the infinite horizon

They are known to us only by their signature prints.

We hear them not: nor see them except in our imagination.

Their silence – is it a means of avoiding the revelations of the spoken word?

 Does silence shield us from sharing our profound, risky ideas from the world?

Or is silence a cave like repository of our deepest thoughts and knowledge?

The even tide raises to a level overwhelming the prints of our stranger friends.

Covering each with a cascade of water… then the hand of undercurrent sweeps

the prints away and into the receding ocean.

Or does it?

While walking the trekkers made an impact on the beach, on those

watching them, on the squawking  gulls scarfing for dinner.

Their silence? Only to those who were not there to observe.

What happens to the sounds they made? Where do they go?

 Do they last forever in a yet undiscovered pantheon of the universe?

 Is there a planet comprised of captured sounds where  language is melt

into silence for all, and simultaneously no one to hear.

And so it is with our silent thoughts, dreams, ideas.

They may remain deep inside of our imagination.

But never disappearing.. are always present.

These unspoken concepts find a way onto the beach:

In written script: as a nugget of conversation with an

unsuspecting friend.

What we think and imagine remains silent for only a little while.

WORRY – THE RAVEN SAYETH “ NEVERMORE”

Thousands of sports fans “worry”.
Sales of anti stress medications had to skyrocket during the recent NFL Playoffs
Of course, over the counter mind solvents such as Johnny Walker and Miller Draft
Also took the place of 20th century pharma pain killers.
The stomach churning continued even though the results were beyond the control of fans
In the event your team was victorious, celebrations were exponentially greater than
Civilized societies can expect from the citizenry… Go Packers Go is the new state motto.

On a more serious note, worrying is a matter of avoidance.
It is an attempt to avoid anticipated potential threats.
The dour, pessimistic, bomb throwing nay sayers are expert worriers.
Hunched shoulders, furrowed brows, shuffling feet are all body language signals.

Some adults see themselves as carrying the weight of the world.
No problem, issue, circumstance is too small to be added to the list of life’s troubles.
Like beasts of burden, they carry their load wherever they go:
Dromedaries in the desert traveling from Al-Khobar to Riyadh, have a purpose,
a destination, an ending which relieves them of pain and discomfiture.
Malignant worriers carry their burdens without an off loading destination on the horizon.

Feel like the Scrooge of your generation? Overburdened, underappreciated?
Alone and adrift in a sea of confusion: Fearful of what tragedy may be next?
Sayeth the Raven “ Nevermore”.

Snow covers the frozen surface of Lake Geneva with a perfect palette of white frosty snow
Quiet, slumbering, reflecting God’s patience.
The crunch of isolated snow boots on the tundra faintly breaks the silence.
Want a conversation with our Maker, this is as close as it gets.
Silence makes us intent listeners. Listening for what?
Undefined, mystical, supernatural, the unexplained symphony of silence
Envelopes and surrounds us as we walk further into nature’s living room.

A solitary velvet black crow perches on the limb atop a leafless oak .
Facing the shrouded sun, the bird and tree have a life long relationship.
The crow calls, then listens, calls then listens.
Lift off ! He accelerates over the lake: a speck of black on a frozen white canvas.
This ancient bird had delivered a message – was it received?
Or did it’s dolcent sounds fall to the frozen earth, unheard, not translated?

Nature has opened the door into its living room of silence.
Filled with nothing and yet everything.
Perhaps Native Americans have it right – there is a message about each rock, river, tree.
Did we listen in silence for the soul of God while its just Him and us at the lake?

How adept are we at unburdening ourselves and letting Him take our troubles?
Resolving them in His time, in His way? Do we trust ?
Or do we egotistically depend on our own smarts to solve our perceived worries?
Like the crow, we are not alone.. unless we choose to be.

God listenting to us in our Silence

A SALUTE TO THE PEOPLE OF EGYPT AND THE HUMAN SPIRIT

Evening comes early and often.
The nights, shortened by summers sunlight, are still extraordinarily long.
People walk furtively, ignominiously, avoiding eye contact.
Cautiously going about their daily business.
The streets are silent, dark, scary, intimidating.
Street lamps are dim: doors are locked: Children play inside.

Conversations are stilted, brief, superficial.
Who knows what? About whom? When?
Relationships are superficially deep
Extended families are at risk.

Who is watching? Who is listening
James Devita in his book “Silenced” calls them “Listeners”.

Fear is pervasive, encompassing, everywhere.
Fear of… how long is the list?

Imagine these factors being present in your life..always!
Where fear and intimidation are normal.
Where survival skills/ thought police/thinking only proper thoughts
Being obedient, compliant, living an existence based on robot behavior
Are essential to being alive.

Your neighbors in the apartment block – do not extend the hand of trust .
Some of your friends disappear.. forever
There are rumors about their being transported to the desert
Others talk about dark and brutal prisons .. no trials..no appeals
No visitors.. people just disappear into a netherland.

You learn early not to question, or think, or discuss freedom.
The shadowy hand of the government will harshly punish you and your family.
We remember the click of the phone-listeners- when living in Warsaw.

Yes my friends, this is the backdrop of East Berlin and now Egypt.
The courage needed to resist the State is difficult to put into words.
The tentacles of how deep the police monitored and controlled lives
Is worthy of a several volume set of detailed anecdotes.

Fear of failure in a job, or school, or relationship is real and serious.
Fear for your life, the life of your family, your country
Reinforced every day and everyway for decades is pure terror.
Knowing that demonstrating in the streets could mean death or at the
Least extended imprisonment in a middle age dungeon is courageous.
The demonstrators in Cairo literally and often risk their lives for their country.
This fact cannot be overstated or underestimated.

Take the time, find a way to visit these countries
Go to little Egypt in New York or Polska in Chicago.
Have a cup of tea, eat a pierogi: talk to the people about their experiences
An appreciation/comprehension of freedom in the U S and the courage of our brothers
Around the world will be a priceless gift which will enrich your life… forever.

Terror on the streets of a totalitarian state

Silence:Hiding The Past..Pushing Away the Lessons of History

Silence, Hiding the Past … Pushing Away the Lessons of History

Layers of north facing dark green moss hide glacier formed stones silently strewn on the woodlot floor
Sleeping for generations they are part of history not best forgotten
Unmarked by historic markers or disfigured by well trodden paths,
This land is purposely ignored by generations of locals and camera toting foreigners

Shielded from sight by tall white birches and gnarling raspberry bushes
The horrors that happened here cause even the death ravens to be absent.
This is not a unique plot of undisturbed earth.. it has many brothers and sisters.
Here the Germans and then the Russians brought their captives to die
And to be purposely lost to the world’s consciousness forever

After more than seven decades, a dark, ever present pall of death hangs in the atmosphere.
Inhale and smell it: exhale and choke on the gagging entrails of innocents sent to their end.
Sunlight glints through the trees – sparingly: as if nature purposely avoids exposing
the truth about man’s inhumanity to man.
Tiptoeing on the rocks, walking carefully so as not to fall and have the dirt of this place under ones finger
nails, one feels the silent surge of souls long gone beneath each step.
The psychic vibes reach up, touch the soles and send icy chills to the roots of our Christian values..

Visitors to this den of death are spellbound, quiet, horrifically mesmerized.
Tombstones, markers, remembrance flowers – none in evidence
Parking lots, visitors centers, crosses, Stars of David- none in evidence

Wizened, wary, frightened looks of locals now in their 80’s and 90’s tell more than
their hushed responses to inquiries of “ what happened here”?
The hollow looks in the depths of their eyes reveal nothing, and everything
Their memory tapes hear the guttural sound of troop trucks, staccato shooting squad gunfire, the
slicing of earth for latrine like mass graves
The graves of children, torn from their mother’s breasts, killed because they would remember the
holocaust of Jews, Christians, the elite, the educated, the future of a nation.
Yes, this is real. This is the story of many silent, never to be forgotten fields of death in Eastern Europe.