The poet sings, “Where is the birthplace of the wind? From what distant lands and shores does it arise? And, wither does it go on its unceasing journey to World’s End?”
Such is the Unseen Universe. We see not. Blind to the brightness of its light.
Yet, as the wind is felt and the reality of its life can be Seen in the swirling dust; the trees genuflecting to their Unseen Benefactor. So, too is the Realm that neither eye has seen, nor ear heard.
We feel the reality in the peace that passes into our Hearts and Minds When seated in the midst of the Glories of Nature. Drops of Grace in the Morning Glory and the flitting Monarch.
The Finger of God cannot be seen. Yet, it is felt in snack offered to “the Least of These” when they hunger. The Breath of God fills the heart with joy and gladness as fine wine fills the Bride and Bridegroom on their Nuptial Day.
So, too, can the darkness of lesser gods be felt in the lust and greed that their Systems of Race and Caste endow with power. Powers and Principalities they were once named. Loosed abroad to entice the weak and the gullible. Promises of Power and Riches flow from their lying tongues. We do not hear the word spoken aloud. We do not need to. The evidence…the reality…may be seen in the subjugation of Others. We may touch their handiwork in those left homeless and without Food, Clean Water, Warm Clothing, Companionship and Love.
We cannot know from where the Wind blows. However, we can know that it exists. We can join with it to produce life. We are also able to shelter against its ferocity and appetite.
People have been asking me, “So, do you know what you’re gonna do after you retire?” I know that they mean well. They want to encourage me as I move into the next phase of the Journey. And, I know that they want to convince themselves that there can, indeed, be life after work. I know that because I asked the same questions to others as they laid aside the garments of labor and took up the mantle of the Retired.
To be honest, though, I’m not entirely sure what’s next. Like I told the person at Social Security yesterday as she was asking all sorts of questions, “I don’t know. I’ve never retired before.” That’s the truth. This is all new and uncharted territory. I don’t know for sure what’s coming next. Yeah, I’m lining up some options. But, nothing yet etched in stone.
It might be easier if I told people what I will NOT be doing.
So, here’s a list of things that I’m sure will not happen after March 31, 2020.
I will not pack a lunch and drive to Cleveland in order to work. There will be no time clock to punch. No deadlines to meet. This may be the most significant thing that will not happen.
I will not buy golf clubs and take up that game. I do not now, nor have I ever, seen any use in chasing a little white ball around a cow pasture with a stick. Not gonna happen.
I will not plop my butt in my recliner and turn on the tube. (For those of you who may be unaware, the “tube” refers to the television. They used to use Cathode Ray Tubes to produce a picture.) The remote will remain remote from my fingers. Not gonna sit and watch the world go by. Won’t happen.
I will not buy a winter home in Florida or Texas or New Mexico. Not gonna be a Snowbird. That’s not to say that we may not relocate to a warmer clime. But, going back and forth between two properties? Not gonna happen.
I will not take up playing cards or bingo or bocce ball or any of those other activities where old folks in Bermuda shorts with black support stockings stand around pretending to be active. If at some time my physical condition should deteriorate to the point that I am forced into assisted living, well, I’ve given instructions that I should be taken out behind the barn and shot. I fully intend to spend more time at Planet Fitness than sitting at a card table.
I’m not going to put up with a batch of shit from people who think they can go around spreading that manure. I’m old now. I don’t need that from folks. Nope. Not gonna happen.
I’m not going to give up my hope in people to grow and do the right things. No, I don’t place faith in Human Nature. We have 50,000 years of experience to show that’s not really trustworthy. But, we also have example after example of people stepping up to the task of being God’s Ikons in this world. I have witnessed too many people doing right. And, I know that God has not given up on us, either. So, not gonna give up.
I know that you were probably expecting a Top Ten List. Well, that’s something else I’m not gonna do. In fact, I have already begun it. I’m not gonna live up to the expectations of other people. I have never been able to do that. Not gonna start now.
So, there you have it. A brief look at my “Not To Do List.” I think everyone should have one of these. It may help avoid all kinds of trouble.
1971. Ah, I remember it well. I learned to drive that years. Keep pets and small children away from the roadway! I started my junior year of high school that year. Rah-rah…oh, crap. I also began a journey that I would never have thought possible. My first job in a print shop came that year. My dad worked at Lorain Priniting Co. in Lorain, OH. He felt that I needed to have a real job. I guess full-time student didn’t count. I should really have a paying diversion from all of the rock-n-roll stuff that was fogging up my brain.
Anyway, my first position was cleaning the overhead. For those who have never been in a commercial print shop, the overhead is the ceiling, pipes, ductwork, and lights. Basically, everything “Over Head.” Commercial offset presses used a spray powder that coated each sheet as it passed out of the printing units and was stacked at the delivery end of the press. The powder was to keep the sheets with wet ink from sticking to each other. However, the powder was not particular about what it actually attached itself to. It floated everywhere. And, stuck to everything. Including, yep, the overhead. The problem with this was that once the powder built up above the presses, any vibration would cause the powder to fall into the press and possibly cause unwanted spots and dirt on the final printed sheet. The powder had also been known to become explosive when enough of it built up and a static electric charge was applied. So, yeah. Someone needed to get out the 30 gallon vacuum and suck up the powder. Anyway, that was, what? 49 years ago.
I had, at one time, planned to go to college after high school. I had been accepted at Malone College for the fall semester of 1973. But, I had a job in a print shop. I was no longer cleaning the overhead. I had moved up to making deliveries and there was a position on a press that was available. Hey! Don’t judge! I was 18 and had gas money coming in. So, I rationalized my future and skipped college to remain in the work force. Yay, me! (The stupidity that led to that decision will have to wait for another time.)
Anyway, this is all a long way to say that, as I wrote in an earlier post, I am retiring from printing this year. I think that 49 years is long enough. It’s time to move on to a new chapter of life.
Today I went to Social Security to get that ball rolling so that on April 1 I will start receiving benefits. Yeah, you heard that right. March 31, 2020* will be my last day of being gainfully employed. On the next day, April Fool’s, I will be officially retired. The date does seem kind of appropriate.
So, here’s looking to the future. I have no idea what it will hold for sure. There are several possibilities that I’m currently weighing. It will be a journey, though. One that I hope you all will come along with me on.
*Date updated to March 31. No, I am NOT staying until May!!!! Sheesh!
I think that I wrote somewhere that I am really passionate about the Biblical text. Studying them rates as one of my all time favorite things to do. Part of why I find these ancient texts fascinating is the significance, for good or ill, that they have had on the cultures of the world. These words are not confined to one specific group of people or particular region. Unlike, say, the Hindu Vedas or Upanishads which are located pretty specifically in South Asia, the Christian Bible has influenced virtually every culture and people group on the planet. That reason, alone, is enough to cause one to want to know more about it Who wrote these texts? To whom were they written? When were the composed? Compiled? Redacted? What’s so important about the words in these 66 books, poems, laws, narratives, stories, and myths?
Sadly, these questions, and the subsequent answers, are lost on a vast number of people who say that they reverence these texts. They truly seem to not know the questions to ask. Or, perhaps more concerning, they don’t want to hear the answers. It’s far easier to let someone else do the hard work. They can then try to follow the path of those others and pretend that they are engaging The Word. But, that’s a topic for another post.
The reason I’m writing this today is because of the study I had to prepare on this past week’s lections for the Baptism of Jesus. We looked at Matthew’s take on Jesus trip to see his cousin, John, at the Jordan river. Jesus went there so that John could baptize him. The story’s pretty straight forward. John tells the people around him about the person who is coming after him who will baptize with fire. The Coming One is greater than John. In fact John said that he was not worthy to even untie the shoe of the Coming One.
Enter Jesus: stage left.
The two men talked a bit. Jesus indicated that he was there to be baptized. John, who apparently recognized Jesus as the Coming One, balked at Jesus’ request He told Jesus, “Whoa! No, no, no! I’m the one who should be baptized by You!”
Well, Jesus prevailed upon John so that John dunked Jesus in the Living Waters of the Jordan. When John brought Jesus up from the water, the story says that the Heavens opened and the Spirit descended in the form of a dove and lighted on Jesus. A voice from heaven said, “Behold, this is my Son, the Beloved in whom I am well pleased.”
Now, at first blush this looks like a pretty simple story. Right?
I’m not going to go into any detail here. You really don’t want me to turn my inner geek loose on you. It could get real ugly. Or, at least pretty boring.
What I do want to point out here is that when we start to ask questions about this story, the answers aren’t quite so simple.
Here’s an example: Why did Jesus need to be baptized by John? Hmmm…. Did Jesus need to be cleansed from sin? Most orthodox folks would freak out about even considering that!
As I studied this one question I found no less than 16 different possible answers. All of them viable. All of them considered by skilled and knowledgeable scholars. Yet, the answers were all over the place.
If one simple text, straight forward, no big issues with languages or other issues can elicit such wide variations in interpretations, how can we think that any of the other texts can be reduced to simple talking points?
The correct answer for those keeping score is, They can’t.
That’s why it’s so important to dig and ask and dig some more.
These sacred texts have been used and abused for millennia because people refuse to ask the hard questions. Or, worse, they refuse to listen to all of the possible answers before resorting to actions that, unfortunately, have done much more harm than good in many places.
The other part of why I’m so passionate about the Scriptures is to find the treasures that are life affirming and graciously full of God’s Love that are there for the diligent to find. I hope to show myself diligent in this labor of love that I’ve undertaken.
A vault impregnable, impervious, impossibly shut and locked Is the Heart of Humans. Desires, hopes, dreams, lusts and longings closed within it. Steel encased in concrete is like Butterfly wings compared with Its hardened walls of Flesh.
What kind of dark Humors reside therein? The swirling mist of “Myself.” Gazing always inward. Unable to see or imagine a world outside of Self-imposed confinement, Completely alone. Companionless.
There is One. Who has a Key.
Can we allow this One, With Pure motives To unlock the Vault? So that Light may enter unhindered And, “Myself” might “See”?
There is Hope That Freedom may penetrate And the Heart may become…
What strange Majick is this? What Craft has loosed this power upon the Universe?
Tis not Majick that raises such music as this! Listen! The Mind gathers the elements which flow Freely through the vales that course through Its fertile folds and hillocks. Without incantation, wand, or spell, Sparks ignite within and current races through The tight weave of thought Forming, Sculpting, Creating.
Behold these words of mine! Like the Cosmos before them, Created Ex Nihilo. Meaning, Substance, Language!
My heart wanders out into dusk Not quite night; No longer daylight. Stars wink behind a light veil of clouds Reflecting off of the shimmering, blue-gray surface of the water.
“Where are you going?” I asked. My heart looked back and shrugged. “Off to the forest where once I found in dappled sunlight the Love of Life. Then, across the Savannah in search of Hope Immeasurable.”
“But, what if the Beast of the Forest who hides among the flowering Rowan should appear? Or, the ravenous Lion of the Great Grasslands? Surely, you will be devoured!” said I.
With a gleam in his eye and lilt in his voice, he said, “My Friend, how can I know the exhilaration of living without a life fraught with such things? How can I thank the Heavens for Life and Light if I have not seen the possibility of Death and Darkness? Where is Joy when there is no sorrow?”
I nodded and watched as my heart turned toward his destiny and wondered, “Shall I ever see him again?”
Well, it’s back to work today. I enjoyed a little over two weeks off over the holidays. I really could get used to that! Most of the time spent was very good. I needed the rest. Plus, it was really nice navigating the season a more leisurely than in some years.
I alluded to changes coming in the New Year in a post yesterday. 2020 is shaping up to be unique in many ways. I’ll get to each as I am able. Right now, though, I’m considering Words.
Most people consider words and language as a means to an end. We communicate our wants, needs, and desires in a manner that others can understand. We see a color and say, “That’s red!” Images may come to mind like a fire engine or a nice, ripe apple. From there we may associate the smell of smoke or the fragrance of apple pie. We can feel the firmness of the apple’s flesh in our imagination. That may trigger a memory of a baseball. Or, perhaps the opposite. The softness of a peach. And, that in turn, may send our neocortex into overdrive with myriad sensations cascading through our mind.
All because of “Red.”
Words are far more powerful than many of us consider. In ancient Greece and Rome special schools were established for the sole purpose of teaching students how to shape and form words. The schools of rhetoric flourished and great orators gained renown for their ability to shape, not only words, but the thoughts and opinions of those who listened to them practice their art.
And, art it was!
People could paint pictures and sculpt monuments using only words. Civilizations flourished and fell because of words placed in their proper, (or, improper), places. A slip of the tongue could cost thousands of lives. On the other hand, a well craft oration could establish Queens and Kings.
Today words have largely become common currency in the culture. Yes, they still contain a modicum of power. Fortunes can be won and lost because of a timely slip of the tongue. But, tomorrow someone else will say something that will undo that in a heartbeat.
We have lowered the importance of language to the point that it is merely one of many different media to consume. From television and radio, to books and magazines, we eat words to satisfy an appetite. When the effect wears off, we hunger for more. It seems that an unending supply of tasty words are available for us to gratify our hunger. We become gluttons for more words to stroke our egos and indulge our baser appetites. One simply needs to see the content of Facebook or twitter to experience this.
Words are Power.
Even in the diminished form in which we hear and see them today, they are Power.
I was going to post this yesterday. But, I ran out of time. Kinda like so much else last year.
Goodbye, Old Friend! You came to us with a shout of gladness, Clad in diaper and sash.
Quickly you grew in harmony with the world around us. From infant to child. The green shoot echoing as it pushed through the frost.
You blossomed into a young adult. Full of promise; growing in Strength. You worked among us and shared the fruit of your labor. We all ate and were satisfied.
All too soon, we saw white, like frost on the grass, appear in your hair. Like the naked trunks of trees, lines began to crease your brow.
Now, your departure is at hand. It is with profound thanks that we sing this final goodbye.
As I considered the passing of the year I couldn’t separate it from the cycle of life that we experience here. As the world around us stirs and grows from the cold of winter through spring planting. Sowing and reaping; hope and gladness. Until the circle is joined as we bid farewell to our old friend.
Today’s the Eve of New Year’s Eve. For a lot of us it’s a time to tidy up after Christmas. Take the decorations down and store them away for another year. Others may still be returning gifts or redeeming gift cards. Gotta keep Amazon busy! For many it’s just another day. Back to work trying to make sure all of the year-end accounting is completed. Then there are those who take the last few days of the year to reflect on the days now past. The days of darkness from a year ago when the cold winds whipped across the landscape. Snow and ice piled up in parking lots. Yet, with lengthening daylight came a bit of hope. Hope that was finally realized when the first crocus forced its head up through the still thawing earth. There was the return of the birds and other animals after their long winter sojourn in other places or hidden away from the forces of Nature. Hope gave way to realization of new life and green trees. Warmth seeping into the ground to rouse the seed and call the sprout from its protective shell. Soon the colors change and daylight again begins to wane. Harvest time! Gladness in the fruit of the ground! Then, the circle closes as we come, yet again, to the end.
Or, is it a beginning?
As the Cosmos cycles through birth, life, and death, so too do we. There are cries of newborns and sighs of the aged and infirm. Relationships blossom and bloom. While others get tangled in the weeds, choke, and pass into compost.
Yet, it continues.
We still hope.
We still sow and reap.
Perhaps it is a good thing to reflect. To remember things as they are and have been.
