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Category: Musings

Old Year; New Day

Published by mhelbert on December 30, 2018

Well, there’s one more day left in this ol’ year. Soon, the ball will drop and a brand, spankin’ new year will miraculously appear. But, I’ll have more to say about that tomorrow. Today I just want to reflect on a couple of things. Being a melancholy introvert will cause such reflection.

Today, while I sat quietly at my desk, letting the soft living light of candles illuminate me, I looked back over the last, (what’s it been?), sixty some odd years. Maybe reflecting like that is the prerogative of the old and the ‘well-on-their-way-to-being-old.’

I see in my backwards-looking crystal orb much to be glad and happy about. The fact that I’ve lived this long is one of them. There are, of course, the usual milestones that reveal happy moments. For those I am extremely glad. How bleak and barren life would have been without them.

But, then, there are the regrets. Now, I know all of the cliches that people like to toss around when the topic of regret is brought up. I know that there is a lot of truth in those sayings. There is a lot of truth in the pain of regret, also. It’s a real thing and will not be denied its pound of flesh.

Why, for instance, didn’t I follow my heart? There are so many stories out there about “being true to yourself,” or “follow your dreams,” or “let the desire of your heart lead you.”

Fairy tales.

That’s not how life is lived in the “real world.”

In the real world you need to “toe the line”; “keep your nose to the grindstone”; “don’t make waves.” You must be responsible and sensible. Get a job! Find someone good to marry. Raise a family.

And, I have to say, all of those can be good things. Very good things.

But, are the Fairy Tale world and the ‘Real’ world mutually exclusive?

The obvious answer is, of course, no they’re not. Many people live in both worlds very successfully.

Many don’t, though.

And, for those there are regrets.

At this time, when the old year wanes, is a good time to reflect. To assess the course steered through the years. As I stand on the bridge of the ship and look back at the wake thrown by it, I see a crazy zigging and zagging. A true ship’s captain would have followed a course that would have created a ruler straight wake.

But, that’s not my way. Never has been.

What of the future?

Ah, that!

Well, no time of reflection is complete without considering hope. Is there hope in tomorrow?

Yes!

There must be. Else, why continue on?

I have hope that the time lost may be redeemed. Somehow. In days past I would have added “God willing.” I no longer trust that. I wasted too much time waiting for God to be willing. Now, I say, “Yeah! If I can pull my head out of my arse and DO SOMETHING!”

I, just like you, was born with certain abilities and talents. I spent too many years squandering mine. Perhaps, tomorrow, or in the New Year, I’ll actually employ those things. So, yeah, there is hope.

And, just maybe we can all look toward what is to come with a firm will and eyes shining in the light of a new day.

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It’s Not Always Light

Published by mhelbert on December 29, 2018

God? You there? It’s just me again. I was wondering if, maybe, we could chat a bit?

You know that this year, 2018, is just about spent. Soon 2019 will be kick starting. Hopefully, it’ll start without too much of a backfire. A great belch that would be appropriate, I guess, with the parties and such happening.

But, what’s there to look forward to? I mean, it looks pretty much the same as the old year. Right?

“Same as it ever was; same as it ever was.”

Didn’t that writer, Qoheleth, write something like that way back in the B(efore) C(herrios)? There is nothing new under the sun. All is vanity.

“Same as it ever was.”

Is that really how it is, though?

People say that something new actually did happen once. (In a dream? In a parallel universe?) A Child was born who grew up to change the world. What was his name again? Oh, yeah, Jesus son of Joseph. Things weren’t the same as they ever were.

But, did it mean anything, God? Say true now, did that man child’s life really change anything? Anything at all? Actually, from here it sometimes looks as though he had never been born. People are the same as they ever were.

Greed; Fear; Hatred.

These have raged on unabated. Nothing has hindered them in the least!

They linger like Smog over LA in the 70s stinging eyes and burning lungs. Hearts fail.

How Long, O Lord? How Long?

Still, there are places where a cool wind flows over the landscape like clear water flows over the rocks in the bed of a mountain stream. Like pinpricks of light in the heavens these tiny swirls of Spirit’s Breath stir the smog and reveal small patches of green where seeds that were hidden in the soft loam strive upward. The sudden warmth of the Sun racing through the break in the smog touches the fragile life within the seedling urging it heavenward. The green stem reaching, hoping to bloom and blossom. Fresh, new scents fill the void left by the dispersing stench of the smog.

Fresh.

Live giving.

But, God? There are too few of these places. Greed, Fear, and Hatred overwhelm them before the fragrance of these precious blossoms can work their healing magic. The weight of them is far too great for the Lightness of the Breath!

We need more than a simple exhalation of Breath. A Hurricane! A Mighty, Rushing Wind that can displace and destroy those powers. Rain to wash the soot and stench away forever!

God replied, “But, you are the Breath.”

I’m sorry, God. That’s no help. I don’t see any hope in that. Where is the plus side?

“Same as it ever was.”

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The Wheel

Published by mhelbert on December 27, 2018

Wheel turns inexorably onward.
Where does it lead?
Nowhere.
Turning, it turns within another…larger.
Others attach and spin faster and faster.
Yet, going nowhere.
Only round and round and round she goes!
Where she stops, nobody knows!

Hands on a face.
Covering tears.
Hiding zits.
Put away shame.
Yet, the wheel turns inexorably onward.

Why do they call them hands?
They look more like spears.
Weapons in the hands of the wheels.
But, the wheels have no hands.

Grow; Age; Rot…
What if the turning stopped?
Would that keep the rot away?
Would the rot rot?

Wheels in the sky keep turning.
When to sow; when to reap.
When to fertilize the seed.

The wheel begins another turn.

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The Day After Christmas…

Published by mhelbert on December 26, 2018

Well, we made it. Another Christmas holiday in the books. The hustle and the bustle have hustled and bustled stage left. They’ll be kept in storage and refurbished for next year. No more Mariah Carey’s requesting “All I Want for Christmas is You.” Drum and fife, “Pat a Pan,” cleaned and put into their cases. Soon, the trees and decorations in our homes will also be returned to their own storage boxes and shelves. We’ll clean up the glitter and finish eating the cookies and candy. Those stockings that were hung by the chimney with care have been emptied of the goodies that Old St. Nick filled them with.

The build up to the holiday was, for many, fraught with anxiety and stress. Yesterday was the culmination of all of that nervous energy. Now, the pressure has been released and we can get back to normal life. “Survived again!”

For others the slow rise toward Christmas was a journey in growing awe and wonder. Every gift made or purchased. Every card received or sent. Every snowflake falling from a slate, gray sky. All part of the mystery and holiness of the season.

Christmas has always been a dreaded thing. Too much stuff to pack into one month. Too many unreasonable expectations. Seasonal Affective Disorder doesn’t help much, either. But this year it was different. The anxiety level was good. Yeah, there were moments when it felt as though the roof might cave in. Thankfully, those moments were few and far between. For those who know me, this was a Christmas miracle!

For me, too.

What was different this year? I was on vacation from work. However, I take this time off every year. I had all shopping and wrapping done almost a week early. That’s a first! I’m usually ‘wrapping’ that up on Christmas day! Maybe that helped a bit. I wasn’t rushed right up to the last minute. I don’t think that alone could bring about a change in attitude like I experienced.

It could be that this was the first Christmas in I don’t know how many years that I spent completely sober. It’s been nearly 12 months since I had anything at all to drink. That may have been fruit that has grown. I don’t think that was at the root of things this year.

No, I think that this year I took time to reflect on things. I awoke each day and took time to sit before my God in silence. I found something in that time that I hadn’t seen too much of before. It was Grace and Presence that evoked Thanks in me. Yeah, I think that was the difference this year. I found a way to express gratitude. Not just to God. But, gratitude for the people around me. Hey, we were all going through this together, weren’t we? So, I was thankful for companions on the way. We’ve shared struggles and dashed hopes, for sure. We also had times of triumph and dreams realized.

This year it wasn’t Me Against the World. And, I am thankful for that. It was Us walking the path together.

I include all of You in that “Us.”

So, thank you. May you be blessed now, and as we rush toward the flip of another calendar page.

Thank you!

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On the Eve of Christmas Eve

Published by mhelbert on December 23, 2018

It’s almost Christmas day. Schedules are hectic with trying to get all of the wrapping and baking and preparations finished. So, I may not publish new posts everyday this week.
Today, I’m reposting one I wrote last year.
I think it’s still pretty relevant.

As those of us who celebrate Christmas prepare for the Big Day on Wednesday, I have a reminder for us all.
There is more Reason for this Season than many of us consider while we’re buying and wrapping and decorating and cooking and singing all in preparation for our Christmassing.
Let me share a bit from an old story…..
“It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children’s Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was grey.
‘Are spirits; lives so short?’ asked Scrooge.
‘My life upon this globe, is very brief,’ replied the Ghost. ‘It ends to-night.’
‘To-night!’ cried Scrooge.
‘To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near.’
The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.
‘Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,’ said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, ‘but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?’
‘It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it,’ was the Spirit’s sorrowful reply. ‘Look here.’
From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.
‘Oh, Man! Look here. Look, look, down here!’ exclaimed the Ghost.
They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.
Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.
‘Spirit! Are they yours?’ Scrooge could say no more.
‘They are Man’s,’ said the Spirit, looking down upon them. ‘And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!’ cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. ‘Slander those who tell it ye! Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And abide the end!’
‘Have they no refuge or resource?’ cried Scrooge.
‘Are there no prisons?’ said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. ‘Are there no workhouses?’
The bell struck twelve.

[Dickens, Charles. Stories for Christmas. Platinum Press Inc. New York, 1999. Pp. 72-74.]”

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Jesus Never Ate Chocolate

Published by mhelbert on December 22, 2018

When I was on Facebook, twitter, and tumblr I would share from time to time links to blogs and articles that I thought might interest my friends and followers. I still think it’s a good thing to share the thoughts of others.

So, here is a link to a blogpost by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat. I’ve followed her blog at the Velveteen Rabbi for a while. She is a kindred spirit whom I appreciate very much.

Please take a minute to read and reflect on her poem.

Jesus Never Ate Chocolate

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The Most Magical Time of the Year

Published by mhelbert on December 21, 2018

It’s that time of year again. The season changes from Autumn to Winter. We begin the journey toward Spring and New Life. It’s also called the most magical time of the year. Do you believe in magic?
I don’t mean the hocus pocus of Penn and Teller.
Nor, do I mean the song by the Lovin’ Spoonful.
I mean Magic.
Something that cannot be empirically explained.
A world where the laws of physics that exist in our world
simply don’t hold anymore.
How about ‘Spirit’? Sentient beings who may, or may not, inhabit the World of Magic.
Let’s tease this out a bit more.
Do you believe that Magic and Spirit can interact with us in THIS world?
Well? Do you?
I think that these ‘Other’ things are, in fact, a reality.
Let me explain…
In order to see these places, a special tool must be used. It’s a tool called “Child-Like Faith.” And, it’s not just for kids! But, children seem to come about it more naturally than we who are older and wiser. Children are naturally aware of a reality that can’t be measured or quantified. They seem to be able to intuit things that we Olders find it necessary to study and explain.
I think that this is something more than mere belief. Olders can “believe” in something if we can find a tangible basis for it. Like a book or something. But, kids don’t need a book to tell them to believe. They can stand in wide-eyed wonder and awe as the white, fuzzy top of a dandelion wafts away on the breeze.
It’s Magical!
They are able to enter into a story and see and smell the forests where fairies dwell and the oceans that contain wonders that no human eye has ever seen.
It’s Magical!
Who are we to say that such a place doesn’t exist? Perhaps, the people who would say that such belief is delusional or ignorant are actually the ones who are delusional and ignorant!
There are stories in every culture that tell of worlds that are inhabited by beings that no biology book has ever described. Things that Darwin did not see in his travels. But, Odysseus did. Many of these stories were told for training and morality. Aesop’s Fables and countless others that carry messages that are used to form our ethical foundations. But, there are many other stories that don’t fall into that category. Stories where magic and spirits are real and the world of the senses are foiled. Could these stories be windows into real worlds that truly exist? Places that inspire Awe and Wonder in children?
Let’s speculate a bit.
Our empirical sciences point to various electro-chemical reactions in our brains as the true source of creativity. With this in mind, we have created ways to exercise and stimulate these reactions. With enough exercise writers, musicians, artists, and others who visualize thoughts into reality can strengthen their craft and ‘Create.’ And, there you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen. Scientifically proven…there’s nothing special about it. And, absolutely nothing magical.
But, what if?
What if there is something within each person that can be attuned to some other reality? Of course, we would think that science would have identified such an organ, or gland, or something by now. Right? They have pretty much mapped the brain. They can see how various stimuli ‘light up’ different parts of the brain. They can measure and quantify the results of these stimuli. Can they identify the source? What if there is no external stimulus? What reveals different worlds to the writer? Where do melodies and harmonies derive their existence? Where in the world did Picasso get his inspiration?
I’m just a guy who imagines things. I have no idea where the science has or hasn’t traveled. But, what if there is something that lies quietly within us? Some latent ability that enables us to ‘see’ other realities where Magic and Spirit dwell?
That would be truly Magical!

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The Nativity – Revisited

Published by mhelbert on December 20, 2018


Nativity

Here’s the annual repost of my take on Jesus’ birth at Bethlehem. If you have read my blog you know that I do not hold to the whole “Away In A Manger” story. That story really has nothing at all to do with 1st Century Palestinian life. I believe that this story is a better representation of that. Read with an open heart and mind. Perhaps, we may find a greater understanding of who Jesus was and our part in His family.

The caravan moved slowly up toward Jerusalem. It had been a long journey from Galilee through Samaria. We could not travel very fast because of the young, pregnant woman. Most of the caravan stopped in Jerusalem. We, however, had a few more miles to go to get to our ancestral home of Bethlehem.

We entered the town and located the home of Joseph’s cousin. Entering, we greeted those already gathered. “Shalom! Baruch hashem Adonai!” “Peace! Bless the name of the Lord!” Unpacking our donkeys, we noticed that there were a lot of people already present. It seems that the whole clan had answered Caesar’s demand that we return for this census. Joseph helped Mary up to the living quarters while I got fodder for the donkeys. As I turned to climb the stairs I saw Joseph gesturing angrily.

“No guest room?! My wife is going to give birth at any moment! You must make room for her and the child!”

“No, we cannot. There are too many people. We cannot have one room given to her alone.”

“Wait,” one of Joseph’s aunts said. “We can fix a place for her down below. There is plenty of fresh straw. And, we can put blankets down to help make her more comfortable.”

Mary, being young and new to the family looked at Joseph and nodded. She was already suspect, being pregnant already. She did not want to give the family any more reason to look down on her.

Evening came. Mary was having contractions every few minutes. One of the aunts acted as midwife. They made Mary as comfortable as possible.

Joseph was upstairs with the rest of the family. He was pacing the floor. One cousin scolded him, “Sit down and relax! Everything will be fine. This is not the first child ever born!”

But, everyone knew that many first pregnancies did not end well. Especially, when the mother was as young as Mary. In addition, both Joseph and Mary were anxious about the child. That strange man that had appeared nine months ago had said some very strange things about this child. As the birth drew near, the young parents wondered what kind of creature was about to enter their world.

It seemed as though Mary had been laboring for hours. With a final push the child arrived. With a cry, the child took his first breath. The midwife lifted the child and tied off the umbilicus.

“It’s a boy!”

Joseph gave a sigh of relief. The others began to pour bowls of wine and a party celebrating the birth of a first-born son began. They sang and danced and drank. When Mary was cleaned up and the child wrapped in clean cloths, Joseph was summoned to come down. He looked compassionately at Mary. She was so strong and brave…no longer a child. Joseph reached into the feeding trough in which his newborn son had been laid. He picked him up.

“My son, Yeshua!”

A little later I looked up and saw a small group of people entering the house. By the staves that they were carrying I could tell that they were shepherds.

“Who let this rabble in?” I thought. Shepherds were not usually welcome among respectable people. They walked over to where the child lay sleeping.

“We were out in the field tending the sheep. Suddenly, there was a great light in the sky! We feared that something was going to take our sheep and harm us! Then, we heard a voice saying that a child had been born…here…in Bethlehem. The voice said that this child is the Messiah who we have been waiting for!”

Another shepherd spoke up saying, “Then there was a great host praising God! They gave God glory and said that peace was to reign between God and those whom God favors!”

We poured bowls of wine for the shepherds and continued to celebrate throughout the night.

However, Mary had a puzzled look on her face. She said nothing!

May God Bless you all and Merry Christmas

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The Eyes Have It

Published by mhelbert on December 20, 2018

They say that the eyes are the window of the Soul.

Not so much that they allow light to enter,

But, they allow the light within to radiate outward.

People may change the color and style of their hair or the shape of their nose.

Grimace and pout; Giggle and laugh.

Fold arms and raise angry fists.

Dance a jig or march a dirge.

The eyes, though, are truthful.

Nothing is hid from one who knows how to see.

Open your eyes! And, I will see your soul’s light reflected in my heart!

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Wednesday Musings

Published by mhelbert on December 19, 2018

Yesterday was interesting. And, not because anything out of the ordinary happened.
I had lunch with the Rector of the church I’ve attended since September.
But, before I left to meet Fr. Alex, I watched “Ghosts of Christmas Eve” with
The Trans Siberian Orchestra. I really like TSO. Being a musician I appreciate
what the arrangers did. Especially, since I cut my musical teeth on Prog Rock from
the early 70s, the mash-up of classically inspired shredding guitars is a favorite.
So, when the first scene opened I found it strange that my emotions began to surface.
In fact, until late in the program it took a concerted effort to not sit there and bawl like
a baby. Now, I’ve had music affect me emotionally before. Certain passages and sequences
of notes charge me up. Chills and constricted arrector pili muscles appear on my arms.
Yesterday was different, though. And, honestly, I have no clue why. The script and acting
in the program were mediocre at best. Contrived and frivolous at worst. Was it simply
the music? I don’t think so. The wave of emotion began well before the music really took off.
Maybe, it was the idea of the young runaway spending Christmas Eve in a run down old
theater. The old story goes that no one should be alone on Christmas. As I write this, I’m
still not sure what the deal was.
But, I’m kinda glad for it. It proves, once again, that I am not Mr. Spock. I do have emotions
that surface and cause me to reflect. And, in spite of everything, I am connected to other
people and the World at large in ways that are not always predictable.
Maybe, that’s a good thing.

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