Category: Musings

Thoughts for a Wednesday Morning

Published by mhelbert on July 2, 2014

All of us go through periods when the light seems to be far off and obscured. We spend time in introspection wondering what ever happened to the joy and innocence that existed so very long ago. Anger, frustration, hurt and shame seem to be constant companions. How in the world did my life turn out like this? This question is one that I’ve been asking myself. Why have I taken every opportunity to shoot myself in the foot? I look in the mirror and really don’t like the person staring back at me.

I approached God about this. “Why,” I asked, “haven’t things ‘worked together’ for my good?” Now, I know that some will ask me why I’m counting lemons when there are so many cherries around. So, yes, I’ll concede that not all things are a downer. But, those things are external. What I’m talking about here are the internal things. The feelings and emotions, thoughts and dreams that make us human seem to have fallen in the desert where they shrivel and die.

Then God began to show me the flaws and imperfections, some deadly, that existed throughout the Cosmos.

Tectonic shifts, volcanic activity, super-novas, meteors and asteroids crashing into planets and each other. The universe is a very dangerous place. Yet, look at the beauty that can spring forth from these ashes. Beautiful islands and majestic mountains are created by the natural ebb and flow of the earth’s molten core. Great nebulae expanding out from some great cosmic explosion. From these new stars or planets may even be birthed.

Then God said, “I love all of this! The forces, great and small, that work together to create and recreate reveal the life that I have shared with all things. Yes, some of the forces destroy. Yet, even in death there is the seed for new life. You are no different. With the darkness and struggle you find yourself in is a spark that promises creation of new things.”

Has this changed how I feel? No. It has, however, given me something to consider. Perhaps, in time I’ll be able to fully embrace who I have become and not mourn the loss of innocence. Perhaps, not. That’s tomorrow’s concern. I’m having enough difficulty dealing with here and now.

I really don’t know if any of this makes sense. Or, if it’s just more ramblings of a mad man. But, I suspect that I’m not alone in all of this.

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The Wise Men…Who Were They?

Published by mhelbert on January 1, 2014

One of the stories that has become part of our holiday season is the story of the Magi. It’s been romanticized to the point that the story we tell today bears little resemblance to the story written by Matthew. It now has three kings from the East bearing gifts to the infant Christ. They have even been given names! Tradition in the West has graced them the monikers Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar. They are depicted as riding their camels across the desert ‘following yonder star.’ In some places, even the crèche has them standing around with the shepherds and animals. It’s a nice story. It’s a warm and emotional story. But, it’s not the story that Matthew tells.

Matthew’s story is one of international interest. It also has touches of courtly intrigue and deception. It starts with the statement, “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea…” The writer doesn’t give us a time frame for this. It’s just sometime ‘after.’ Later in the chapter we learn that Jesus may have been as old as two years. But, that’s a story for another day.

The Magi were most likely astrologers from the region we now know as Iraq. These people had a relationship with the heavens that has been lost to us today. At some point they recognized some new celestial event. They called it a ‘star.’ Through their training and practices they discerned that this ‘star’ hailed the birth of a new king of the Jewish people. Perhaps they were sensitive to this because there was still a fairly vibrant Jewish community left from the Babylonian captivity half a millennium earlier. In any case, they thought that a new king of the Jews would be in the Jewish capital of Jerusalem, so they loaded up their caravan and headed west. It’s highly unlikely that there were only three Magi in the caravan. And, they would have been traveling with an armed escort as well as servants and supplies.

They arrived in Jerusalem and began asking where the king was. Well, of course they were directed to Herod the Great. They told their tale to Herod, who was not happy about this. Matthew tells us that “when King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him.” I can understand why Herod was disturbed. He was ruthless in his pursuit of power and prestige. He spent millions building cities and edifices for the glory of his name and legacy. He was probably the greatest builder of his day. He was also a man who would not hesitate to have someone’s throat cut if he thought they were a threat to his position. Caesar Augustus is reported to have said that it would be better to be one of Herod’s pigs than one of his sons. This was the person to whom the Magi reported. The rest of Jerusalem would be upset and worried if Herod was upset and worried. No one knew what he might do, but they all knew what he was capable of. And, there was the problem of Rome. As a vassal state, Palestine could come under Rome’s scrutiny if a new ‘king’ suddenly appeared on the scene. As we see from the end of the gospel, claiming to be the ‘king of the Jews’ did not have a great retirement policy.

Anyway, Herod had his people figure out that the new king would be born in Bethlehem. He sent the Magi out to find him and report back his location. At this point Matthew states that the “star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.” Apparently, after the star originally appeared, they must have lost sight of it. They knew it was about the Jews, so they traveled there. But, now, having left Herod’s presence, the star reappeared and they could not contain their exuberance. When they found the house where Mary, Joseph and Jesus were staying, they “bowed down and worshiped him.” They presented the child with their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Royal gifts for a royal child. As they slept that night, the story reports that they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod. They decided to return to the East by a different route and left.

Now, I could stop here. That’s pretty much the story in a nutshell. But, I think that there are some things to be learned about God and God’s love for humanity as a whole. I’ve always been intrigued by the fact that God chose to announce Jesus’ birth to those who were marginalized in society. Those who had no voice or who were considered unclean or ‘outsiders.’ First, the choice of Mary and Joseph to be parents. They were not upper class folks. Joseph was a craftsman and Mary was a child herself. Second, the shepherds. These people could not even testify in court because their word was considered to be as worthless as their vocation. Third, the gentile Magi. Not only were they outsiders, they worshiped the heavenly host and other gods. They were idolaters! Yet, God chose these people to welcome the Word of God into our world. The Magi used their own, dare I say, God given talents to discern what God was doing in the world. Pagan astrology and knowledge led them to worship Jesus. After they came and bowed before Jesus and worshiped him, they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod. What I found interesting was that we are not told how they happened to receive this dream. In the two instances where Joseph received divine instructions through dreams, we are clearly told that “the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream.” There’s no such caveat in the Magi’s dream. Could it simply be that the writer did not want to reveal such a close association between the God of the Jews and these gentiles? Perhaps. Or, could it be that there was another way that dreams are communicated to people other than God? I’m not speaking of something dark or demonic. But, perhaps something natural, that because of their training and practices, the Magi they were sensitive to? God works in many mysterious ways.

How should this inform how Christ-followers should respond to others? We see that God seems to prefer communicating with the poor, the marginalized and the ‘other.’ The wealthy, powerful and privileged are left on the outside wondering what’s going on. The ‘other’ includes those who do not think nor believe like ‘we’ do. And, apparently, that’s OK with God! Perhaps we should take a lesson from God and learn that God is accepting of all people wherever they live and whatever they happen to think and believe. They do not need to become like ‘us’ for God to love and accept them. If God can ask the Magi to join in God’s plan for the world and send them on their way in peace, why can’t we?

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On Grapes and Gratitude

Published by mhelbert on October 11, 2013

This morning’s Exercise focused on a passage from the Gospel according to Mark. In chapter 12, the first few verses, a story is recorded about a man who planted a vineyard. He planted the vines, built a wine press and built a wall around it. He then leased it to some folks to tend the vines and, in time, bring in the harvest. At the time of the harvest, so the story goes, the man sent someone to collect his share of the fruit. The tenants beat him and sent him away empty handed. This process was repeated several times. Some servants were beaten, others killed. Finally, the man sent his son to collect. For some reason, he thought that the tenants would respect his son. The tenants took the son outside of the vineyard and killed him. Apparently, they thought this would allow them to lay claim to the vineyard. The story ends with the threat of the man coming himself and destroying the tenants.

Fun story, eh, kids? Give me what’s mine or, in the words of Achmed the Dead Terrorist, “I keel you!” But, that’s not the point of the story. In it, the man prepared the vineyard with everything necessary for a successful operation at his own expense. The plants, buildings, wall and winepress were all put in place. Workers were secured to tend to his investment. Arrangements were agreed to in which at the harvest the man would receive a share. This was his Return On Investment. The tenants, however, either felt entitled to the whole or simply were not mindful of the man’s claim. Personally, I think that they felt that since they had done all of the labor they were entitled to the entire harvest. I think that they felt secure within the walls that the man had built. And, I speculate that they did not expect the man to do anything about it. They were arrogant and self-seeking. There was apparently no concern for possible consequences to their actions.

The story ends with a threat. It doesn’t finish with the destruction of the tenants, only the statement that the man would be within his rights to come and take what was his by force. Now, like any parable, eventually comparisons to life events break down. And, I don’t want to stretch this into something it was not intended for. A couple of things that I did notice, though…

The man was mindful of what was necessary to run a successful business. He prepared everything that was necessary to turn a profit and provide for himself, his family and the tenants.
He graciously provided for the tenants’ livelihood by giving them free reign to care for the vineyard.
He exhibited unusual patience by sending, and continuing to send people to collect his share.
Ultimately, he sent his own son, his heir, to collect payment.

I think that if I had to highlight any one point of the story it would be gratitude. The man had done everything in his power to see to the well-being of the tenants. They had no investment in the vineyard. It was pretty much handed to them. The man did not tell them how to care for it…he was not a micro-manager. In the end, he simply wanted the tenants to show respect and gratitude by providing his share. By their actions the tenants revealed greed, disrespect and ingratitude. They considered the vineyard and its produce theirs and they were not about to share it.

I know that I don’t show gratitude for much of what I’ve been given. I have a life, people, a place and a mind that thinks. And, most of the time I consider all of this mine. I forget, or am not mindful, of the Source from which these things come. Honestly, I don’t see that changing a great deal. Yeah, this story has reminded me that gratitude should be the natural response to such graciousness. But, I forget sometimes. I don’t think that I’m alone in this. That’s why I’m sharing it. Perhaps, we all need a reminder to be thankful from time to time.

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More Musings on a Wednesday Morning

Published by mhelbert on October 9, 2013

The journey begins. No one said that it would be easy. Rocks; boulders; deep crevasses impede forward motion. Yet, forward we must go. For, to retreat…to backtrack…is futility itself. Clambering over obstacles. Vaulting over lacerations in the earth, deep and unhealed that no salve can sooth. Forward, ever forward.

Yet above, you know, that place where God dwells insulated from the mundane…the “everyday.” The place where mere mortals press onward. Forward, ever forward.

“When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child.” But, I am no longer a child. I am enveloped by the ‘NOW!’ Beneath azure skies where the gods dance I am enshrouded by the nebulous mist of incense filling the temple of my heart. NOW! Pressing me forward, ever forward.

Attentive to the sound of my breath; my heart playing rhythms reaching out to the life that surrounds me. Searching for intimacy. Where are you, my Soul? Come! Take my hand as we leap, dance and run forward, ever forward.

In those days darkness will draw near. The sound of flies buzzing in my ears. I will lie down to rest. Sleep! Blesséd sleep! Yet, the journey does not end. For even now…I must press on forward, ever forward.

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Musings on a Wednesday Morning

Published by mhelbert on October 2, 2013

I love sitting in the stillness of the morning. Outside there are the sounds of crickets and the occasional acorn falling on a nearby rooftop. A candle, the scent of cinnamon, burns and fills the room with autumn. My thoughts wander here and there. They touch memories and sensations within me; without me. In the core of my being, my heart, I sense God’s presence. Peace. Be still, O my soul.

I allow the Muse to guide me. ‘Where shall we go? To what far off land or sea or star?’ Perhaps, we’ll simply drift on a river as it meanders through green fields. We listen to the sound of the water flowing gently over a bed of small rocks and pebbles. It tells tales of aeons past. It knows the fish and the fowl by name. Ancient people traveled along its banks; floated on its back. Never tiring, it bends and winds its way from its source to the Great Sea. There its life mingles with that of the Other in brackish love-making in which it is embraced, consumed by this One. Is this not the way of it? We travel the path before us. Touching and being touched we grow and we learn. From our beginning, our source, we are destined to live, laugh, cry…love. If fortune smiles upon us, another may join in our journey. A companion, a friend…a lover. However, our path and theirs are not the same. Even though we walk together I have my own quest. And, you have yours. Joyful as our time spent together may be, one day our ways must diverge. You will be joined to Another. Embraced by the One who is the true Source. And, I…I will flow into the Great Sea.

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To Suffer…and To Suffer With

Published by mhelbert on September 20, 2013

In a recent post I mused about God’s relationship with the entirety of the Good Creation. That, perhaps, at the moment that the universe began to grow and form God had shared a part of God’s own essence. We are all interconnected, related, because of the Breath of God that has given to us. In another post I wrote a little about my own journey through depression and self-loathing. The story is painful for me to recount. But, I must share just a tad more.

This week I messaged a young person who is battling her own inner demons of depression. I don’t know why, but something about this person has caused my heart to be open…vulnerable. I have tried to encourage her to ‘keep on keepin’ on.’ In a reply she wrote something that really caught me off guard. I quickly responded with an apology. But, I felt horrible inside. Now, for most people the exchange would have been nothing to be concerned about. The words shared were neither abusive nor inappropriate. However, what I had thought would be helpful was rejected. By extension, I felt rejected. When a person lives with depression, any rejection, real or perceived, can throw that person into a downward spiral into interior depths where all sorts of beasties live. Throughout the remainder of that day I was pretty much lost. It got to the point where I asked a friend of mine why I was such an ‘asswipe.’ Sleep was lost to me that night as I considered and reconsidered what had happened. I beat myself up for feeling bad. I cursed myself for the words, as innocuous as they were. Other unrelated issues began to pop up and cause more anxiety. You see, with me that’s how depression works. It causes all of my strength to focus inwardly. I can see nothing but my own faults and inadequacies.

The next morning as I was trying to meditate and pray, I picked up a book by Brian McClaren entitled Naked Spirituality. I had been reading it recently for, I don’t know, the umpteenth time. I opened it to the place I had marked the last time I had read from it. The words jumped off of the page! He was writing about compassion. Particularly, how we respond to the suffering of others. The word does not, as some have said, have anything to do with having passion, as in “she is passionate about someone or something.” The passion part of the word carries the same meaning as when people speak of the Passion of Christ. It is derived from Latin and can be translated “to suffer with.” McClaren wrote that when we are presented with the suffering of others we can respond in one of several ways. We may become “calloused, uncaring, embittered, or overwhelmed.” I had become clearly overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by this young person’s suffering and by my own inability to deal with rejection. Compassion was what I needed. And, I needed it now! Compassion forces folks to look outside of themselves. Our gaze looks upward and outward for relief for the object of our compassion. It breaks forth in pleas for mercy. And, as McClaren wrote, it enables us to “choose connection over disconnection, compassion over apathy, commitment and expansion over constriction and contraction.” I began to pray. Prayer for this young person and her life. Prayer for the enlargement of my heart. Prayer that took my eyes off of me and fixed them on the loving Creator who imbued me and this other person with God’s own breath. Have I found a cure for depression? No, it’s something that I will continue to live with. However, I have found another weapon to use against it. Compassion.

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Relationships…What if?

Published by mhelbert on September 10, 2013

I started to write this post a few days after we buried Dad. It’s taken a little longer to write than I had originally thought.

I’ve just gone back to work after Dad’s passing. I have mixed feelings about going back. Part of me really would like to take a few more days to recover from the emotional stress of watching Dad during his final hours. Lack of sleep and good nutrition has left me physically drained. Another part of me feels the need to get back in the saddle. Work can be a good diversion, focusing the mind on tasks other than funerals and mourning.
The outpouring of support from extended family and friends has been amazing. I’m not sure that I would be of much use to anyone if not for their encouragement and presence. Yeah, I still like books, but all of these people made the last week not only bearable, but in many ways, pleasant. What can I say? We’re all connected in some way. There is something more than just our common humanity at play here. We all share in the brevity and frailty of life. Love given and received binds us with others as we form communities.
But, there is something more. The connection between us as humans is vast and wide. Why would a person in one part of the world care about the needs of someone 14,000 miles away on the other side of the world? Especially, when that one person has more than enough cares and troubles of her or his own? How can I travel to another culture, not knowing the language, and actually communicate with someone? Perhaps, there is an affinity between us because we are the same species. You know, ‘birds of a feather.’ That could be part of it, I suppose. However, those birds simply flock together. They don’t go out of their way to care for the needs of others. Some birds don’t even care for their own young! No, I don’t see that being the common thread that binds us. I think that there is something other than our physical reality at play here.
What that something is has been speculated about ever since humans began to think. (Although, there are some folks today that I wonder about.) I’m not going to join in that philosophical discussion. I’m woefully under qualified for that.
However, I might speculate on something else… relationship. What if that common characteristic is buried deep within humanity? And, what if it is empowered by an outside source? (I’m just musing.) Could it be that what we call God, or Creator, or any number of names is responsible for touching each of us? Perhaps there is a relationship between this God and the Good Creation that acts as a catalyst causing humans to care. Not only caring for other humans, but for the Good Creation as well. That would explain why there are organizations such as Green Peace and Doctors Without Borders. There are thousands of shelters for battered and beaten people. Environmental and human rights organizations flourish. All of this in a world that seems bent on self destruction. Why? I have no pat answer. Nor, does anyone else.
Maybe, the relationship between the Creator and the Good Creation has been damaged. This has been the position of the Christian Church. They accept that sometime in the distant past, between 6 & 10 thousand years ago, God created all things and declared them ‘good.’ The entire created universe was pristine, if not ‘perfect.’ Humankind was innocent and enjoyed relationships with God and the creation. However, these humans were somehow enticed to disobey God and suffered a ‘fall’ of some sort that affected all of creation. The good relationships with God and the cosmos were damaged. Yet, there was still something within them, a broken shard of God’s image that continued to allow some people to do good things. This idea was first articulated by Augustine of Hippo in the late 4th to early 5th centuries. Personally, I don’t agree with him about the ‘fall.’ But, more on that at another time.
What if, about 14 billion years ago, the known universe erupted and began to form into the wondrous environment that we now live in? Then, somewhere around 4.5 billion years ago this system of planets and asteroids and other matter began to form around a larger mass that became our Sun. Over time changes occurred due to any number of causes and effects. On the third rock from this sun these changes caused organisms to develop that contained within them the potential for what we call ‘life.’ Eventually, millions more years passed until a certain small segment of these organisms developed and matured until humanity emerged…upright and aware of itself within this Great and Good Creation. Now, I hear the voices saying, “Whoa! Where is God in this? Isn’t this just a rehash of some Darwinian theory?” Well, yeah it is…kind of. But, what if God has been a part of this entire process? Perhaps not in an entirely active way. Nor, as the deists would say, as a passive observer. Maybe, God breathed God’s life into that original bit of matter and imbued it with God’s own presence. I’m not going to go into panentheism. I don’t think that the universe is part of God nor that the universe is synonymous with God. I’m saying that, perhaps, God is the One who animated and gave ‘life’ to the process. That God has carefully watched over the cosmos, not as an ‘intelligent designer,’ but as a caring and loving parent who knew and trusted that things would develop a certain way.
In the beginning, the breath of God…Ruach Elohim, who hovered over the formless void…was God the Spirit. The Word of God, spoken, brought order out of chaos. God, present from the beginning, shared part of God’s self with what became the Cosmos. Humans, aware of time, space and self also had the capacity to ‘know’ God. Far from being a separate entity at the top of some cosmic hierarchy, humans have derived their essence from that which erupted all those billions of years earlier. We are ‘part and parcel’ with all of the Good Creation. Relationships…they are built into us…from the beginning.

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It’s Hard to be Human

Published by mhelbert on September 6, 2013

It’s hard being human. We have minds that think. There are emotions and desires that stir and motivate us. We are sentient and aware of ourselves and our relationship in time and space. Our realities and experiences are as varied as each individual, yet we have a commonality that binds us together. All of this seems to indicate that humans should be happy that they are apparently the pinnacle of creation.

Yet, we are not happy. We are a conflicted lot, internally as well as externally. Externally, it’s easy to see how very disturbed we are. Watch the news or read a newspaper, (if you can find one). Every day people are being abused, robbed, murdered or taken advantage of by others. Wars are waged in the name of whatever the cause du jour is. (For some reason people seem to think that if you kill people peace will break out.) The privileged oppress those who are not. Greed and lust for power are systemic ills that are deeply embedded in virtually every culture. Yeah, it’s hard to be human.

Internally, we wage our own private wars against ourselves. Many of us live in cultures that value things like integrity and character. We have set up ideals that we aspire to attain. But, we can never seem to grasp them. We denounce greed, yet desire more. Mention lust and people gasp and put their hand over their mouth. Our eyes, however, crave to see and our hands to hold that object of our desire. Voices cry out against injustice. In that inner most part of us, though, there is another voice that laughs at it. Our appetites rule us and our desires drive and motivate us. Then, we wake up the next morning and our heads hurt and our bodies ache and we wonder what the hell just happened. It’s still hard to be human.

If these observations of mine are not true, then why are there so many self-help groups, gurus, counselors and therapists, churches and para-church organizations and books in the millions designed to inspire and motivate us to be ‘better’? In the particular religious culture that I spent many years immersed in, they would say, “Just read your Bible and pray.” They seemed to think that the Bible was some sort of talisman and prayer a kind of magic that could ward off the evil of the flesh and this ‘present generation. Shame and guilt were used to keep the flock in line. These, of course, do nothing but add to the inner conflict of people who are already hurting. Not only am I battling my inner ‘demons,’ now I’m also a bad person for having these thoughts and feelings. This, too, is a form of abuse. Damn, it’s hard being human!

I don’t think that it has ever been easy to be human. Our species has endured a lot of adversity over the millennia that we’ve been present on this planet. Nature has been against us. We have been against each other. Drought, famine, war…it seems like there are always battles to fight. Yet, we have survived. In fact, some would say that we are thriving is spite of the adversity.

As, I was praying this morning these thoughts came to my mind. I shared them with God saying, “It’s hard to be human.” And, I didn’t hear any disagreement. I think this may be because God now knows what it’s like to wear a body of flesh and bone. The Creator has experienced the reality of the created. Reading the stories that recount God’s sojourn among us, I am struck by the fact that Jesus’ life was not easy. He wandered around Palestine and probably wondered more than once where his next meal would come from. Hated and despised by his own culture, he continued to press on. Those who, like himself, were on the fringes of society…the people who were hurting and marginalized…he loved and cared for. And, he encouraged them to persevere and to continue to put one foot in front of the other. He didn’t offer spiritual platitudes and magic to remove the obstacles that confronted them. He said, “Go, and stop sinning,” or “take up your cross and follow me.” I think that Jesus realized that the only way people could live and thrive was to take on adversity head on and to do the necessary work to deal with it. I suppose that means when the external injustices rise up to crush people, we stand against them. Maybe, the internal appetites and desires will always, always, always be with us. Our lives will be spent in the muck of living. We’re going to be confronted with desires that we must resist. There will be cravings that must be tempered with self-control. We must then confront these things with whatever strength we can muster. Difficult? Yeah. But, whoever said it was easy…to be human?

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What’s in a Legacy, Anyway?

Published by mhelbert on September 4, 2013

I’ve spent the last two weeks mindlessly wandering. I can’t seem to put one cogent thought with another. I don’t know if this is a normal step in the mourning process. Perhaps, the incredible number of tasks that must be done after the death of a loved one is simply overwhelming me. After all, my brother and I have been left with the responsibility of disposing of my parents’ property and liabilities. We’re kinda new at this. We are listing their condo for sale. It’s not expected to sell for much. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get enough to cover what is still owed on it. There are outstanding medical bills that need to be paid. And, we still have a lot of ‘stuff’…furniture, odds-n-ends, and papers…lots of papers to deal with.

What we’re finding is that my parents had very little in the way of a material legacy. They did not prepare for a secure financial future. And, they certainly didn’t spend time thinking about what they were going to pass on to the next generations. They lived for the present. Some might say they lived ‘in the moment.’ Theirs was a relationship that was devoted to enjoying life with one another. I remember Mom saying that she had some regrets that they had not given more thought to their legacy. She would have liked to leave something more materially substantial. But, by that time it was really too late to begin preparations for that. The best that they could do was to ensure that my brother and I simply split whatever property and assets they had.

My question, is this a bad thing? Should children expect their parents to take care so that there is something to leave as a material legacy? My parents lived for each other and their family. They gave a lot to us while they lived. Not ‘stuff,’ but love and care. They modeled devotion through their relationship. My dad, if nothing else, was loyal to his wife and to us. No, they did not show us how to accumulate things. They certainly did not instruct us in how to stay out of debt and to be ‘fiscally responsible.’ Saving money or spending it on large insurance policies didn’t seem to be a high priority for them. Dad once told me that he and mom made a lot of money…and, they spent a lot of money. For them it was more important to use what they earned to enjoy life.

Yes, I’m losing sleep and focus with all that needs to be done in order to settle my parents’ obligations. And, yes, there won’t be much left when the task in finished. But, maybe…just maybe…there really is more to leaving a legacy than leaving a lot of pictures of a green guy named George lying around.

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I Am a Rock

Published by mhelbert on August 12, 2013

One of my favorite songs of all time is “I Am a Rock,” by Simon & Garfunkel. When I hear it, I hear a description of me.

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve always envied people who, at least from my perspective, seem to have no trouble opening up to others. They have many friends and enjoy spending time with them. I am not one of them. Yeah, I have several people whom I like and get along with. We socialize and sometimes work together. But, they are not folks with whom I share myself. I’ve built walls, a fortress deep and mighty.

Over the years there have been a few people that I have let in. I’ve escorted them inside of my fortress and showed them the tapestries and paintings on the walls. I’ve opened the secret cabinets holding the silver plates and gold-rimmed chalices that I keep there. I have exposed my heart to these. But, like my cat who is socially handicapped, I don’t know when to close doors. In my exuberance to be accepted I hold nothing back. Soon, I find that my exposure is too costly. Either my emotional offering is not returned or, like Hezekiah who revealed his entire treasure to the Babylonian delegation, I find my treasure plundered and carried off.

Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

One would think that I would remember this. But, emotions tend to awaken. They open one eye and gaze about. If that eye spies something interesting, suddenly they become alert and search for ways to sate their desire to share themselves. You see, emotions must be shared. They cannot exist in a vacuum. While one may experience them in private, there is always some object that they are attached to outside of themselves. Taking on a life of their own, the emotions push all other considerations out of the way and present themselves with all of the false modesty and flattery they can muster. After all, one must offer oneself as perfect so that the other person will be impressed. There cannot be any warts or blemishes showing. We cannot risk rejection. Once disturbed from slumber, however, the inevitable journey toward tears begins.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I’ve written in other places that most of the time I find the company of books preferable to that of people. Books offer refuge. They are worlds in which emotions can live safely. I can wake them and let them out for a little fresh air and sunshine. They really don’t seem to care that books are not reality. They see relationships and trees and flowers and butterflies. They are given a safe environment where they can laugh and cry. And, no one gets hurt.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

“I Am a Rock” lyrics: Copyright: Paul Simon Music, Eclectic Music. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/simongarfunkel/iamarock.html Accessed: 8/12/2013.

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